4 Brewed, Crude and Tattooed by Sandra Balzo

Author:Sandra Balzo [Balzo, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
ISBN: 9780727878571
Google: U5DxQgAACAAJ
Goodreads: 5519884
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2009-05-31T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Please, God, I thought, please don’t tell me I’ve stumbled on another body.

I considered walking away. Let somebody else ‘discover’ this one. Later.

I mean, I said to myself, it already smells bad in here. Who would notice?

The corpse opened one eye. ‘Go...a...way,’ Verdeaux said stiffly. Succinctly, too.

‘I need the key to Way’s office.’

‘Too bad.’ The eye closed again.

I was in no mood to play Odysseus to the other woman’s Cyclops. Though I’d have dearly loved to shove a pickle spear through her eye.

I shook Verdeaux by the shoulder. ‘The key,’ I demanded.

She growled and shifted slightly, causing the stool to roll. I blocked its progress with my foot. ‘Again, the key.’

She propped her head on one hand and eyed me. ‘The door’s open.’

That seemed un-Way-like. ‘Do you mean you left it unlocked?’

The growl looked to become a snarl. I let my foot slide and Verdeaux went with it.

Naomi grabbed either side of the desk to keep herself from falling. ‘Damn it, what is your problem?’

I wanted to say, ‘You are my problem,’ like we were squabbling twelve-year-olds. Instead, I decided to rise above such.

‘You,’ I said. ‘You’re my problem.’

That’d show her. ‘Now tell me,’ I continued, ‘which door is open, the outside one or the back one? Because if you left it unlocked, I want the key so I can secure it. There’s a murderer running around and I’d prefer not to give him unfettered private access, you know?’

I also preferred not to walk into Way’s office with Eric, without knowing if my intruder had circled the mall and come back in through Way’s office.

I looked toward my son, who was staring at the floor. Something was really wrong. Was Eric sick? Flunking out? Or was he thrown out? Maybe in the context of trouble with the law?

All the bad things that could happen to my nineteen-year-old son, all the ways a young life could be ended or changed forever, were racing through my head.

Oh, my God: was I going to be a grandma?

‘Now!’ I screamed at Verdeaux. ‘I need to have the key now!’

Every sleepy visage in the place popped up over its respective store shelf. When each saw who I was brow-beating, though, they stuck their little turtle-heads back into their shells.

Verdeaux, probably assuming I was a psycho, also must have sensed a decided lack of support from her fellow travelers. As a result, she became more forthcoming.

‘The back door, damn it. What do you think I did, go outside in this crap?’ She gestured toward the window, the growl now a defensive snarl. ‘The door from the service hallway was sitting open so I went in.’

‘It was open?’ As I’ve said, it wasn’t like Way to leave either of his office doors open. God forbid we should be able to share and compare leases or something.

‘Open. Ajar. Whatever you want to call it. I never had a key. And I sure as hell don’t have one now.’

Oh.

‘Well, thanks,’ I said.

I walked back to the rear door, thinking.

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