Grounds to Kill by Wendy Roberts

Author:Wendy Roberts [Roberts, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2013-01-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

It took me a while to compose myself after Mitch’s sudden lip lock. I drove around thinking about that and about what Zelma had told me about finding a key and looking into Misty’s past. Both revelations had left me feeling like I needed more.

I got a decaf latte and sat sipping it quietly in my car. I wished I had my laptop so I could Google what other people had to say about Zelma Turnquist. As it was, I only had my gut instinct that told me she was one-half showman and one-half accurate. Half was good enough for me at this point, however. She’d told me I needed to find a key to find the killer. I thought about that and looked through my own key chain. I had one key for my apartment and another for the building front door, a third for Merlot’s and the spare for Mallory’s. None of the keys looked full of possibilities.

I spotted Dad’s backpack in my rearview mirror and frowned. There wasn’t a key inside, was there? Being homeless pretty much meant you didn’t really need keys. Still, I was drawn to the pack and I found myself tugging it into the front seat with me, and, once more, going through the items inside. I’d tossed out all the trash, old batteries and old food, but I’d stuffed the flyers back inside and they took up the majority of the space. I also kept the picture frame wrapped in Dad’s old T-shirts in the pack. Once I took out the flyers and the frame there wasn’t a whole lot left except the loose change I’d stuffed back in one of the smaller outer pockets. I took out the change now and went through it again, but no key was hiding in the jumble of coins. I took the coins, placed them in my purse and replaced them with a ten dollar bill. I could use the change for laundry money.

I found myself once again driving up and down the downtown streets and peering into alleys. No Dad anywhere. Finally I gave up and headed back to Mallory’s.

When I woke up it was because Mojo was making whining noises near me on the sofa. It was nearly ten and she needed to go out, but I felt groggy and disoriented. I slipped my bare feet into my shoes and snapped on Mojo’s leash. We stepped outside and onto the grass. I took a deep breath of the breeze blowing inland from the Pacific. The distinct Seattle fragrance: smog, sea water and seagull poop. Divine.

Mojo was also sniffing the air and taking her time. I took my cell phone from my pocket and scrolled through my messages. There were a couple of texts from Mallory. The first told me that she’d left early for work so she could drop off Beth on the way. She also mentioned I could help myself to the soy milk in the fridge and the vegan nut cereal in the cupboard.

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