Thugs and Kisses Read Online Free PDF Page A

returning me to a room of blue and green chaos.
    Dev stopped dancing and stood stock-still, as if sniffing the air for the direction of the trouble. More screams. Dev and I turned to face the doorway just as the crowd parted and a man staggered in, his shirt-front soaked with blood. Dev made a dash in his direction just as he collapsed to the floor.
    It was Donny Oliver.

A sausage, plump, white, and uncooked, was being wiggled in my face. It reminded me of the smoked chicken and apple kind I’m so fond of, except that this one had a fingernail attached. Or was the nail something disgusting left behind by the factory? Either way, I was trying to grab at it with my teeth, like bobbing for apples but without bending over or getting my hair wet. I had almost succeeded when a bell sounded, then stopped. I tried to snag the sausage again. Once more, I heard the short ring of a bell.
    On the third ring, I realized that the sound was coming from the phone on my nightstand. I made a half-hearted grab for it, but the caller had either hung up or disappeared into my voice mail. I settled back under the covers and closed my eyes, thinking that if I could only catch the sausage, it would go great with some scrambled eggs.
    The phone rang again. This time, I answered on the second ring, but no one said hello back. All I heard was someone breathing. I said hello again, then it hit me. The elusive sausage was a dream. Or rather my subconscious retelling of the night before, when Dev Frye had poked his thick, round index finger in my face and told me to mind my own business. But in my sleepiness, the why and about what still escaped me. I said hello once more into the phone. The caller hung up without saying a word. There was no caller ID on my bedroom phone, so the call would remain a mystery for now. Frankly, I was too exhausted to care.
    It was nippy in my bedroom, so I burrowed back under the covers. This time I didn’t think about breakfast, but about why Dev would shake a stern finger at me. Not that he needed a reason to tell me to mind my own beeswax—he did that on a regular basis.
    I yawned loudly. Seamus hopped up on the bed and rubbed his furry head against my chin. I gathered him up and squeezed him like a teddy bear until he meowed for mercy. Cats are wonderful things on cold mornings.
    A glance at the clock on the nightstand told me it was just past nine o’clock. Usually I’m up much earlier than this on a Sunday morning. And usually I wake up next to Greg. Why wasn’t I next to Greg?
    Oh my gawd!
    The reunion.
    The screaming.
    Donny Oliver.
    Dev’s admonition to stay out of it.
    The events of the night before came crashing into my consciousness like a head-on collision. I sat straight up in bed and covered my face with my hands in horror. Donny Oliver was dead. Someone had shot him in the chest—someone at the reunion.
    The phone rang again. This time I grabbed it quickly and said hello. It was Zee.
    “Did you call here a minute ago?” I asked her.
    “No, I didn’t,” she told me. “I figured after last night you’d be sleeping in, especially after what happened.”
    “What happened?”
    A deep sigh came from Zee’s end. I could almost see her standing there with a hand on one bulky hip. “Did you forget about the murder, Odelia? Or were you hoping no one would notice?”
    Yep, dollars to donuts, Zee had one hand on a hip while she spoke to me.
    There was a click, and another voice chimed in. “Hey, Aunt Odie.” It was Jacob, Zee’s teenage son. “Did you really see the guy get whacked?”
    “Jacob Ezra Washington!” Zee snapped at him. “You get ready for church. Right now!”
    “But Mom,” Jacob whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I want to know what happened.”
    I heard more commotion and muffled voices from the Washington end.
    “You’re not too old to obey your mother, Jacob.” It was Seth, Zee’s husband. His deep, authoritative voice came through the phone loud and clear, even though he