Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 02 - Bogey's Ace in the Hole Read Online Free Page A

who witnessed the argument live in?” I asked.
    Jasmine pointed at the home to the left of Addie’s.
    “I’ll be back,” I said.  “Wait here for me.”  I glanced at each woman with what I knew was the same expression I used when I told Sherlock and Watson to stay .
    They each nodded and I climbed out of the car, leaving my sweater behind because the weather was still warm, and carefully holding my dress up while I stepped over running water in the gutter onto the sidewalk.  Patting my hair, I walked toward the front step.  I usually wore my hair down, but for tonight I’d brushed it up with curls on top, similar to the famous pinup photo of Betty Grable.
    Before I could ring the doorbell, the front door was opened an inch.  I could see an eyeball peering out at me past a safety chain.  The eye moved up and down, and back up again.
    “Who are you?” a very nasal voice asked.  “It’s a little early for trick or treating, don’t ya think?”
    “I wear this dress for work,” I explained , patting my hair again.  “My name is Pamela Cross, and I’m here about your next door neighbor.  Her friends said you saw her arguing with a man this morning, and I’d like to ask you about that.”
    “Ohhh,” the voice said before closing the door and pulling off the safety chain.  The door opened again and a very short gnome-like woman with a slightly hunched back pulled the door wide, inviting me in.  She had scraggly short white hair, huge dark brown eyes, a bulbous nose that was too large for her face, and she looked around eighty. Her ears, slightly protruding, were also a bit big for her face.  She hugged a housecoat around her middle.
    “Thank you for letting me in.  I know it’s late,” I said, glancing at my vintage watch, “but Addie is still missing and we need to find her as soon as we can.”
    The television blared with a medical talk show in progress.
    “At my age, dearie, I don’t sleep a lot.”  She sat down in her recliner and looked at her television.  “Phooey!  It’s only eight o’clock.  That’s not late at all.  Besides, they’re going to talk about menopause.  I’m past my prime and not interested.”
    I guessed that this woman could tell you what time of day it was by what show was on.  At least, that’s the impression she gave.  She picked up her remote control and pushed the Mute button.  The sudden silence was golden.
    “Can you tell me what you saw today, uh, uh…”
    “Elsie.  My name is Elsie Montrose.  And yours is Pamela Cross.  Now that we have that straight, there’s not a lot to tell.  I heard a man yelling and peeked out the window.  He was at Addie’s door and they w ere arguing.  He looked mean, if you ask me, but you didn’t.”
    “I ’d like to know what he looked like,” I said.
    “First, let me finish my story.  Anyways, they w ere arguing to beat the band, although I couldn’t hear everything they said.  Addie pretty much told him to get lost – I did at least hear that part – which was pure bravery as far as I’m concerned.  Her face looked kinda scared.  He grabbed the edge of her screen door, like as to pull it open, and that’s when I headed for the front door.  He mighta been mean, but at least he’d have two of us to deal with, ya see.  But I heard footsteps stompin’ down the walkway and looked out another window.  He was climbin’ into a truck – one of those kind with a camper on it – and he started it up to drive away.  That’s all I can tell you.”
    “Addie’s friends said you never saw her again today.  Is that right?”
    “Sort of.”
    “What do you mean?  Did you see her again or not?”
    “Well, when this guy was driving away, it looked like the door to the camper was being pulled shut.  I coulda sworn I saw Addie’s face just before it closed, but I thought it was all just my imagination.  But the more I think about it…”  Elsie’s expression was sheepish.  She’d had all day