Blown To Pieces (PTO Murder Club Mystery Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

is found, my son will have to go to community college or possibly a technical school; then again, that’s where he was headed ten minutes ago before he had a college fund.” Monica shrugged. “Go forth and hide it.”
    “I won’t let you down, and I won’t tell a soul. The two of you are going to be impressed.” Haley was very impressed with herself.
    “Okay.” I hadn’t really given Max’s college much thought, since I was too busy trying to feed and clothe him.
    “So, we’re good on the money and gold.” Monica sat back and crossed her legs. “What are we going to do about Big Tommy’s murder?”
    “Are you sure we have something to investigate?” It wasn’t that I was afraid to snoop around, it was more that this felt like an accident.
    “Tell you what, I’ll go on my date with T-Rex and see what I can find out, and then after, we’ll decide whether or not to investigate.” Monica loved a good puzzle.
    I looked at Haley, and she nodded. We said in unison, “Sounds like a plan.”

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Chapter 3
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    I had no idea why Chris Pratt and Channing Tatum were having a dance-off dressed as gunslingers, but they were shirtless, so I didn’t really care. In the distance, a mechanical version of “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” played over and over. Just when I was about to find out who wore boxers and who went commando, my eyes fluttered open, and all I saw were the dust bunnies colonizing my ceiling fan. How did fans get dusty when they were in motion all of the time?
    Mystery of the universe.
    My dancing gunslingers were gone, but “All My Ex’s” still played on.
    I rolled over and plucked my phone off of the nightstand. Monica was calling.
    Last time I let anyone pick their own ringtone. I checked the time on my phone as I hit the answer button. “I can’t imagine why anyone would call me at the asscrack of seven twelve on a Saturday. Has the world been taken over by aliens who disguised themselves as cheerful morning people? If so, where do I sign up to lead the resistance?”
    “Like I’ve ever been cheerful.” This early in the morning, Monica’s sarcasm was admirable. I was lucky my eyes were open. It was way too early to get my bitch on.
    “Breakfast at the Lane in an hour. Hal’s already up and on her way.” Monica yawned.
    I yawned and sent it back to her.
    “I’m not hanging up until your feet are on the floor and I have proof.” There was no need for her to yell. I was up...in theory.
    “Max,” it was my turn to yell, “get up and get dressed. We’re going to Kerbey Lane for breakfast.” If Monica’s eardrum burst, that wasn’t my problem. Morning people took their lives in their hands if they dialed me before noon on a weekend.
    “Passive aggressive much?” Monica yawned again.
    “You call the bull in the morning and you get the horns.” I yawned and passed it back to her again. “Stop making me yawn. It’s making me tired.”
    Was yawning considered exercise? If so, I should be a size two instead of a six speeding downhill toward an eight.
    “Okay, I’m hanging up now, but I’ll throw you a bone. I’m buying.” Monica never picked up the check. We left that up to Haley, who had more money than most midsize countries and a lovely willingness to share.
    If Monica was buying, the sky was falling, and we’d all be eating fried Chicken Little and waffles at Kerbey Lane.
    “I’m up.” I rolled out of bed, clicked a selfie of my feet standing on the maple floorboards, and texted it to her.
    “Wow, you need a pedicure. Your toes look like you crawled out of a well.” Monica hung up.
    I glanced at the selfie and flinched. My feet did look like I’d had to tunnel my way to freedom using only my toenails. Tennis shoes it was.
    An hour later, Max and I walked through Kerbey Lane Café’s front doors. The mint-green and white booths and overabundance of woodwork was American diner meets Zen prayer garden. The scents of gingerbread pancakes and burned coffeepot