Voice Mail Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

secretively, “and I know Rosemary appreciates our help when their athletes need special treatment, if you know what I mean.”
    “I do, Jane Marie,” Pamela replied, “but this time, the Coach got some special treatment from someone—and not just help with some football players who needed to get into a course late or help with struggling athletes who couldn’t make passing grades. This time, he got more special treatment than he bargained for.”
     

Chapter Five
     
    Pamela arrived home and gave her garage door opener a quick click. As she drove her little blue Civic into its spot next to Rocky’s black Ford Explorer (Rocky believed in buying American) she was anxious to learn if her husband had heard any gossip about the murdered football coach from his side of campus. Grabbing her jacket and belongings, she slid out of the car and opened the door into the kitchen. Immediately she was greeted with the vibrant, spicy aroma of Mexico. Rocky stood at his favorite location in their home, in front of their stove, stirring frantically as he poured a container of sour cream into a bubbling mixture of what smelled like his famous chicken enchilada casserole.
    “Umm,” she announced. “Mexican!” Rocky turned and smiled briefly at her before returning to his pouring and stirring.
    “Hey, Babe,” he called out. “No late meetings?”
    “Nope,” she replied, hugging him from behind with a quick kiss on his neck. She could smell his after-shave mixed with salsa.
    “Everything go okay? No first day crises?”
    “Smooth all the way,” she responded from the bedroom around the corner. “And you?”
    “Great,” he called out to her, “They gave me an extra section of English 100!”
    “Wonderful,” Pamela said, returning to the kitchen empty-handed. “That’s four classes. We can use the extra money.”
    “No kidding,” agreed her large, muscular husband. “And it fits great into my schedule. All morning classes. Still have the afternoons to cook!” His eyes twinkled conspiratorially.
    “Thank the Lord for that,” she said, laughing. The couple was non-traditional in that Pamela had the full-time job with her tenure-track position in Psychology, and Rocky, retired from the Army, worked in the English Department as an adjunct, picking up courses when he could, semester by semester. Typically, he was able to schedule three classes each term. An additional class would mean extra dollars in their budget.
    Rocky now moved over to the island in the center of the kitchen where a rectangular casserole dish awaited. A layer of corn tortillas was draped over the bottom of the pan and a package of opened tortillas sat to the side. Rocky carefully poured a portion of the chicken and sour cream mixture over the tortillas in the rectangular baking dish. Then placing the cooking pan back on the stove, he opened the refrigerator and brought out a package of shredded Monterey Jack cheese and ripped off the top. Sprinkling a generous amount of cheese over the chicken mixture, he continued alternating layers in the pan of tortillas, chicken and cheese as he spoke.
    “Angie was here,” he said.
    “Oh?” she said, smiling. “Why? Did you ask her to stay for dinner?”
    “I did, but she was off with Kent. They were headed to some event for his job. She stopped by to pick up some sweaters.”
    “Sweaters?”
    “Yeah, she’s freezing over at Kent’s. He keeps the thermometer off and she’s used to it being warmer, but she’s not about to pick a fight with him, so she’s just going to dress warmer, she said.”
    “She said that?”
    “Yup,” he noted. Angie was their daughter and she’d been spending a lot of time at her boyfriend’s apartment. She might as well admit it; Angie was living at her boyfriend’s apartment. Even so, she and Rocky had kept Angie’s bedroom as it was—which meant messy—on the off chance that she would move back home, but Pamela wasn’t holding her breath. Angie dropped by from