The Chocolate Cupid Killings Read Online Free PDF

Joe. His mother didn’t want me at this big family meeting. In-laws were invited as a courtesy. Mercy and Mike wanted to talk to Joe and Tony, their sons.
    How could Joe do this to me? How could he do it to his mother?
    But Joe understood the whole situation, I reminded myself. If he couldn’t leave the meeting in Hogan’s office, it must be something important. But what was more important than his mother’s plans for her life?
    I was still mad when I got into my van. I slammed the door so hard I nearly broke the window out. I turned on the ignition and gunned the motor loudly. I shot out of my parking place.
    What was I going to tell Mercy?
    When I got to the corner I turned toward Dock Street, the most direct route to Mercy’s house. I automatically checked out the spot where the Georgia vehicle had been parked. At least that car had moved.
    As I went by the end of our alley, I glanced down it, toward the shop. And there, under the light over our back door, I saw Aunt Nettie’s blue Buick.
    Oh, yikes! Aunt Nettie was back at the shop. Was something wrong?
    I decided I’d better check. I threw on my brakes, backed up ten feet, then turned into the alley. I drove slowly. Aunt Nettie’s car was square in my headlights.
    And so, I realized, was Aunt Nettie herself. She was at the back door of the shop, fumbling with the door. As I watched she shoved at it frantically. But it didn’t open.
    I stopped about twenty feet away, opened my door, and stepped out.
    â€œAunt Nettie? What’s up?”
    â€œLee!”
    â€œYes, it’s me. Did I frighten you?”
    â€œI hardly know.”
    Aunt Nettie was squinting in the headlights, and I saw that she was holding something. A bottle. She had it by the neck, and she was holding it upside down, almost as if she was ready to use it as a club.
    â€œI was just checking to see if anything was wrong,” I said.
    Aunt Nettie made a sound I can only describe as a hysterical giggle. “Wrong?” She giggled again. “Oh, what could be wrong?”
    â€œWell, you’re standing there holding that bottle as if you’re ready to attack.”
    â€œIt’s too late for an attack.” Aunt Nettie used the bottle to point with. “Look!”
    I followed the line of the bottle. There, wedged between our Dumpster and the wall, was a lump. A large lump.
    And it was a lump outlined with what looked like polyester fur.
    I edged toward the mass. It was a person. A man was lying on the icy asphalt of our alley.
    My nerves jumped all over. “Oh, no! I’ll call an ambulance!”
    â€œI think he’s beyond an ambulance,” Aunt Nettie said. “I think he’s dead.”
    I ran back to the van, grabbed my cell phone, and called 9-1-1. Aunt Nettie stood silently as I told the dispatcher about finding the man in the alley. She said she’d have the Warner Pier patrol car there within minutes.
    â€œPlease page Chief Jones,” I said. “He’ll want to know. His wife found the man.”
    â€œDo you recognize him?” she asked.
    â€œRecognize him?” I repeated the words. “I haven’t looked that closely.”
    Aunt Nettie spoke then. “It’s that detective,” she said. “That one who came looking for Pamela.”
    Then she dropped the bottle. It shattered into big shards of glass.

Chapter 3

    I almost dropped the cell phone. “Derrick Valentine?”
    â€œI didn’t know his name.”
    I went over to the figure on the ground. The man was stuffed behind the trash container. I remember thinking that it would have taken a strong person to get him into the tight space. Then I realized the Dumpster was on wheels. It would have been simple to shove him against the wall, then move the Dumpster in front of him. Well, fairly easy. The Dumpster was pretty full, but it wasn’t an especially large Dumpster, and most of our trash is cardboard and