A Murderous Plot by Minix Sue

Author:Minix, Sue [Minix, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008659868
Google: jk3xEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2024-08-29T08:59:47+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Conway thanked the girl for speaking with us. She went back inside, and the music was back up to rock-concert levels before we could get down the steps.

“That girl’s gonna be deaf before she turns twenty-one at this rate,” I commented.

“I bet you sound just like your mother right now.”

Nope, not even close. My mother was never home. “No, my stepfather did all the complaining in my house.” I poked him playfully. “And if you’re telling me I sound like him, just shoot me now and get it over with. I couldn’t stand him when I was growing up.”

We crossed the grass to the neighbor on the other side. Still no signs of life at the Kirby house. Maybe they really didn’t have a housekeeper.

“And now?” Conway asked.

“We declared a truce for my mother’s sake. I don’t live with them anymore, so no sense in having an adversarial relationship that makes my mom uncomfortable.” Why was I telling him all this? I barely knew the guy. Guess some people are just easier to talk to than others.

The dwelling on the other side of the Kirbys’ stood as tall as theirs but not as wide. Still a formidable place, though. Way out of my price range. A cardboard box under a bridge was probably out of my price range, too. Well, not quite, but close.

Conway knocked on the solid oak front door, avoiding the witch head staring back at us. No answer, so I reached over and tried the doorbell. Not as much fun as playing tag with a witch, but hopefully more productive.

As we were about to give up on anyone responding, the Kirbys’ garage door rose. The mechanical rumble drowned out any chance we had of hearing someone inside their neighbor’s house. I suspected nobody was home, so nothing to hear, anyway.

An older model blue Honda slipped into the available space in the garage, and we sprinted over to catch the driver before the door closed again. Conway’s longer legs carried him there in time to detain a woman from Methuselah’s generation wearing a plain black dress with a white collar, climbing slowly out of the driver’s seat. I lagged about three steps behind him. Another reminder that my first growth spurt had also been my last.

Conway introduced us and asked her if she’d mind answering a few questions. He explained what information we sought, with her shaking her head the whole time, making it clear she had no interest in cooperating.

The woman popped the trunk and began unloading bags of groceries.

“Here, let me help you with those,” Conway said, reaching for the bags. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No, thank you,” she replied, throwing us a distrustful glance. “I do this every day. And the missus wouldn’t like it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“She doesn’t like strangers in the house when she’s not home.”

I reached for a bag. “We don’t have to come in the house. Let us help you carry them to the door. Then, you won’t have to lug them as far.

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