Tangled to Death by J. M. Griffin

Author:J. M. Griffin [Griffin, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00A3UHC58
Published: 2021-11-01T07:56:17+00:00

Chapter 13

Some things should be left alone. Some should be dealt with by those capable, and some shouldn’t be brought to light at all. The wicked snatches of disparaging gossip and innuendo I found in Flora’s books were often accompanied by scribbled illustrations. Her glee over the misery of others disturbed and fascinated me at the same time.

Flora was a sad woman with a tawdry life. Her unhappiness unfolded within the journal pages. By the time I’d gotten to the middle of the first book and peered at the pictures, shame overtook me. A voyeur, that’s what I’d become, just as Flora had been.

I’d read her stories, or lies, concerning neighbors and once close friends. What a sorry person she’d grown into. Her fervor for taunting others was ever present in her writing.

I could almost hear her speak the words as she wrote them. One by one she’d turned friend into foe with no mercy for any of them. How she’d survived this many years came as a surprise.

I must have nodded off because I awoke to the phone ringing, the blare of the alarm, and somebody pounding on the downstairs door.

I staggered from bed, half-asleep and still dressed from the previous night. By the time I reached the kitchen, Jasmine stood on the countertop, her paws splayed across the sink window. Gretchen stirred from sleep.

Bleary-eyed, she sat up, thrust off the covers, and muttered, “What the hell. Can’t anybody sleep around here?”

My laughter bubbled over at her disheveled appearance and rude comment. I swung the door wide and Jonah marched inside.

“What’s this, a sleepover?” he asked, followed by a smirk.

“Too much wine and late hours. Coffee?” I offered.

While I brewed coffee, Gretchen stumbled to the studio bathroom. Jonah lifted the crocheted afghans off the floor. He tossed them on the sofa and turned to me, when his eyes widened.

“You should see your face. It’s a myriad of color.”

I scurried to the nearest mirror and checked out the hues. Rainbows had nothing on my cheek bones or the bridge of my nose. My eyes weren’t swollen, but were smudged with shadows.

“Great. Now I’ll be the talk of the town.” I sighed as Jonah snickered.

“It looks like you got crazy with a makeup brush and too much color.” He stared at the wine bottles on the table, the empty glasses nearby, and his grin widened.

“Did you two celebrate not being arrested last night after I left?”

I poured steaming brew into cups, set out milk and sugar, pointed to it and him. “You could say we had a little too much to drink, though I don’t have a hangover.” No, but I hoped Gretchen didn’t remember my remarks about having more money than I needed.

Gretchen, refreshed and looking better, strode in, picked her coffee cup off the table, and flounced onto a chair.

“Do you always make early house calls, Detective?” she asked.

“When I have to, yes.” He flicked a glance at each of us, motioned for me to take a chair, and then sat at the end of the rectangular table.

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