Sandy Gingras - Lola Polenta 01 - Swamped Read Online Free PDF

really your job?” she asks.
    Just then, a black Ford Expedition pulls up. It’s the detective. He gets out of his truck. I’m not doing anything wrong, but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like a criminal. “Well,” I say brightly to him, “we meet again.”
    “What are you doing here?” he asks.
    “I’m talking to Marie,” I say. “I’m walking my dog.”
    He continues to stare. He has these green eyes that remind me of a field of grass. They’re nice eyes. But when he uses them in this manner, it’s off-putting.
    “Marie and I were just talking about if Ernie had any enemies,” I say.
    Marie pipes up. “She’s a private investigator.” She flashes my Curious George business card at him. He looks at her hand and the card. I didn’t mention any of this to him when he questioned me. I just said I was in Florida because I was taking a summer vacation from my life, separating from my husband, visiting my father. Which is kind of true.
    “Can I see that?” he asks. He takes it, glances at it, and one eyebrow goes up.
    I wave at Marie and start walking backwards.
     

Chapter 7
    “You again?” another voice says as I turn to walk away.
    It’s the old guy from last night—Joe. He’s in plaid shorts with a white belt and a beige polo shirt tucked in neatly. He’s got a pair of big cataract sunglasses on.
    “Morning,” I say.
    “I’m out for my daily constitutional. I had a heart attack two years ago and now I have to walk.” He indicates his white running shoes with blue racing stripes down the sides.
    “Snazzy,” I tell him.
    He smiles down at his shoes. “My daughter sent these from Michigan.” He smiles and hikes up his shorts a bit although they are already too high up on his waist.
    Just then, the detective turns from talking to Marie. He walks up to us. “Curious George?” he asks.
    “Yes?” I say.
    He holds up a roll of yellow police tape. “I’m putting this across Ernie’s doorway.”
    “Oh,” I say.
    “Stay out of things,” he tells me.
    “I’m not doing anything,” I say.
    Joe’s head is ping ponging back and forth.
    “Do you have a P.I. license to operate in Florida?” the cop asks.
    “Um,” I tell him. Really, no. It’s a detail I haven’t thought about yet.
    “We do things differently here in Florida than they do in New Jersey,” he tells me.
    “Yeah, I never heard of death by putter in New Jersey,” I say.
    Joe pipes up, “Ernie got hit by a putter?”
    The cop steps back and looks at us. “You think this is funny?” he asks.
    I really don’t. I don’t know why I’m acting so frivolous.
    The cop is standing in front of me like a giant wall of judgment. He’s really a very handsome man. I’m staring at his chest. He’s wearing a navy blue polo shirt and some chest hairs are escaping out of the neckline where the top two buttons are unbuttoned. It gets very quiet. I try to pretend like I’m reconsidering my sinful ways or praying or something. Really, I hate to admit it, but I’m thinking about the chest hair thing.
    “Are you right-handed?” the detective asks me.
    “Why?”
    “Because Ernie was hit by someone from the right.”
    “I’m left-handed,” Joe pipes up.
    “That’s good to know,” the detective tells him.
    “I just moved in,” I say. “I was napping.”
    “Are you going to arrest any of us, Detective Johansen?” Joe asks as if that would be the highlight of his day.
    “Not today, sir,” he says and then he walks back to where Marie is watering.
    “Are you really a private investigator?” Joe asks me.
    “Well,” I say.
    He says, “Because I may need your services. Looks like I’m the number one suspect. I found the body,” he says proudly.
    “I thought I was the number one suspect,” I say.
    “I touched Ernie’s body to see if there was a pulse,” he says.
    “My fingerprints were on the murder weapon,” I respond.
    “I was the one who called 911. They always suspect the person who calls