Tumbling Blocks Read Online Free PDF Page B

had to admit, she’d aroused my curiosity. “What do you mean?”
    “He refuses to investigate my friend’s murder,” she snapped. “What part of that sentence don’t you understand?”
    Boo scampered behind one of the whiskey barrel planters, and I darted after him. He was as fast as a toddler. “Back where I can see you, Mister Boo,” I said, scooping him up with one hand and placing him at my feet. He pounced on the tassel dangling from Constance’s right dress pump.
    “Get away, you beast,” she said, jerking her foot. He chased after it, excited by the new game.
    “Come back here, you,” I said, pulling the scrunchie from my hair and dangling it at him. Luckily, the attention span of a puppy is nanoseconds. He grabbed the scrunchie and shook it like it was captured prey. “Let’s go into my office, Constance, and talk about this in a more comfortable setting.” I scooped up Boo.
    “He’s coming with us?” Her pale eyes bugged slightly.
    “I can’t leave him out here. He’s just a puppy, and people will start driving in soon.”
    “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But we just had your office carpeted. He’d better control himself.”
    We followed Constance through the museum toward the co-op studio in back, which was once the hacienda’s stables. These buildings, I wanted to inform Constance, had seen their share of animal droppings. Instead, I whispered into Boo’s upright ear, “If you must piddle, please stay away from her expensive shoes.”
    Once inside my small office, I found a basket, emptied it of its magazines, arranged my sweatshirt for some padding, and settled Boo in his makeshift bed. He immediately stuck his shiny nose inside one of the sleeves and went to sleep. From experience, I knew his nap would probably last for about twenty or thirty minutes, then he’d be ready to play again. Hopefully, by then, Constance would be gone.
    “Tell me everything,” I said, sitting down across from her in one of the two padded visitor’s chairs. “From the beginning.”
    “First, I want to say how disappointed I am in your husband. You know, I’ve half a mind to report him to the mayor.”
    I contemplated reminding her that the mayor wasn’t Gabe’s boss, the city manager was. On a quick second thought, I decided to keep that to myself. “What did Gabe do?”
    “It’s what he’s not doing.” Beads of sweat darkened the whitish down on her upper lip.
    “What is that?” I asked calmly.
    At that moment, she burst into tears, which couldn’t have surprised me more than if she’d hopped up on my desktop and started dancing the jitterbug. I jumped up, fumbled in my desk drawer for a box of tissue and held it out to her. While she took one and held it under her mascara-streaked eyes, I sat back down across from her, stymied about what to do next.
    “I’m very sorry,” I said again, my words sounding feeble to my ears. I hadn’t realized how truly upset she was over her friend’s death. Behind my closed door, a group of men laughed, on their way to the wood shop down the hall. In the distance, the whine of a wood saw accompanied Constance’s sobs. I held out the tissue box again, and she took two more.
    “Constance, what happened to Pinky?” I asked in a gentle voice. I was still shocked at her uncharacteristic outburst. She’d always been one of the most self-assured, imposing, some would say controlling, people I’d ever met. Confidence in herself and her place in San Celina’s society had always made her seem like nothing could ever shake her. Seeing Constance’s vulnerable side was something that caught me off guard. It also made me more than a little wary. Once she regained control, I was sure she’d make me pay for glimpsing this vulnerable moment of her psyche.
    She inhaled deeply, dabbed at her eyes and then straightened her spine. “They say she had a heart attack in her sleep, but I know it isn’t true.”
    “Did Pinky have heart problems?”
    Constance