Escape Route (Murder Off-Screen Book 1) Read Online Free

black, chocolate and yellow. Stop by the house for a visit. Mrs. Gill wants to hear about the doin’s in Hollywood, too. I warn you in advance, she’ll want to know all about Cary Grant.”
    “But he’s—”
    “Haven’t had the heart to tell her.”
    I shook the bag of ice cream. “Who’s up for pecan swirl?”
    Clark Morgan raised his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.”
    Uncle Frank said, “Only thing he can eat on pinochle Tuesday, without his dentures.”
    “Is Millie still in charge of your teeth?” I said.
    Clark covered his mouth. “That wife of mine holds a grudge.”
    “Shouldn’t have kissed that girl behind the Ferris wheel.” Bub slapped him on the back of the head. “Millie says without his teeth, no girls will want to kiss him.”
    “Forty years. Forty years, it’s been. Like an elephant, she remembers.”
    “I’ll take that,” Bub said. “Pecan swirl for everyone.”
    That marked the end of the chain of custody for Aunt B’s swirl.
    While the boys argued rules of pinochle and girl-kissing over bowls of ice cream, I wandered around the conglomeration of Bub’s store. Lopsided shelves of WD-40 and flour and hubcaps and hand-warmers for the hunters who lived here in season.
    They’d gather around the wood stove with muddy boots propped on ancient, yellow Coke cases, and brag on what they got, or belly-ache about what they didn’t get.
    Bub’s is the male version of Tilde’s Cuts to Dye For next door. Gossip and neat things to buy. There was an actual fish bowl at Russell’s Sprouts if you wanted in on the pool about whether or not Bub and Tilde would ever go public with the least kept secret in town.
    “Look there,” Bub said. “Customers coming. I guess the phone-off-the-hook isn’t foolproof.” The door opened, the bells jangled. “My favorite sound,” he whispered and headed over to the cash register.
    We eyed Bub’s “actual customers” in case we needed to bring them over for a sit-down about the fine weather and some pecan swirl, but the two men were strangers—one noticeably thin, one noticeably not.
    I squeezed Uncle Frank’s shoulder. “Cracked Blue for dinner tonight. Aunt B says don’t be late getting home.” I tipped his hat up and kissed the top of his head. “And I really need to talk to you.”
    He swiveled in his chair. “Did they find your friend?”
    “No.” I hurried on before the boys piped up with their questions. I’d been weepy since I got out of bed this morning, and I didn’t want to leak all over their game. “About Ovation . I’m thinking of taking her for a spin.”
    Uncle Frank slapped the table, and the cards and the pot jumped six-inches in the air. The two men at the counter jumped, too. One not as high as the other. “That’s the ticket! Wind in her sails, a bone in her teeth. A day on the bay.”
    I left it at that. I’d wait until dinner at the restaurant, in public, with witnesses, to tell him that a day on the bay was just the beginning.

CHAPTER 5
     
     
    My bench was totally in the sun. I leaned back, stretched out my winter-white legs, and closed my eyes, determined to think of something else—anything else—other than Jeep. Enjoy the sunshine, I told myself. Life goes on, Uncle Frank keeps telling me. I’d soak up the warmth of our early spring, and think about how a yellow Lab could give birth to brown and black and yellow babies.
    A hot plop of goo hit my knee.
    “Great.” I opened one eye, expecting to find a glistening bird deposit. “Oh. Well, that’s not so bad, is it, fella?” Another yellow Lab sat on the walk in front of me, smiling. I guessed the slobber was his way of saying, Whatcha doin’?
    “No harm done.” I’d kept tissues stuffed in my pockets for a year, usually for an unexpected Jeep meltdown, but handy for dog slobber, too. “There. Good as new.” I scruffled the dog’s ears. His right one had a gob of nail polish smeared on it.
    “What’s this about?” I used the damp section of