Booked 4 Murder (Sophie Kimball Mystery Book 1) by J.C. Eaton

Author:J.C. Eaton [Eaton, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2017-06-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Forty minutes later, a second cup of coffee and no blue Mazda. I did, however, see Jeanette’s garage door open and her car backing out onto the street. It was a white KIA Sportage and looked as if it had just come out of the showroom. I had test-driven that same model earlier this year when I considered trading in my car but then decided against purchasing a new car. Didn’t need any more payments. I had enough bills on my desk to start a mini Leaning Tower of Pisa. Maybe Jeanette’s finances were better than mine. Maybe West Valley Home Mortgage Solutions was personal, not professional.

I looked at my mother’s kitchen clock. It was already past ten. I couldn’t afford to let the rest of the morning waste away. I was hell-bent on finding out if any toxicology tests were done on Minnie Bendelson since my “finned fish” theory was still in play, and I had to do a little more digging into Thelmalee’s unfortunate demise. I wanted to rule out any involvement with members of Thelmalee’s family. My mother had been quite emphatic about the fact Thelmalee’s relatives were “scavenging the house like seagulls tearing off barnacles from a ship.”

Since I wasn’t sure how to begin with acquiring a toxicology report, I figured I’d call Nate later in the day to ask him. That left me with Thelmalee. I had already checked the phonebook and had written down where she lived. Less than a mile from my mother’s place. I thought I’d drive over there, introduce myself as a friend, and offer my condolences to the family.

Grabbing my bag, I headed for the door, making sure there were no snakes in the vicinity before closing and locking it. My mother would never forgive me if Streetman had an encounter with a snake. As I started toward Thelmalee’s, something dawned on me. It would be very rude to arrive without bringing something. Flowers wouldn’t make sense at this point, but food was always appropriate. A quick stop at the supermarket and I had a large bakery box of assorted cookies in tow.

The immediate area surrounding Thelmalee’s beige and blue ranch home looked like Costco’s parking lot. Cars everywhere. California plates. Arizona plates. Colorado plates. One vehicle, a black Dodge Ram pickup, was sitting in her driveway, its bed filled with furniture and boxes. Apparently my mother was right. The family was doing some picking.

I parked across the street to avoid getting blocked in on the off chance more relatives would be on their way. With my bag flung over my shoulder and the box of cookies under one arm, I made my way to the front door and rang the bell. My first impression of the family was ingrained in my head before I even laid eyes on anyone.

“Will someone get the damn door?” a voice screamed.

“What?” It was another screamer.

“Someone’s at the door! Can’t one of you idiots open the door?” Still another screaming voice.

“I’m in the

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