Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) Read Online Free

fourteen come December. At least.
    One of the names caught me by surprise. “I didn’t know Annette was robbed. Mom never mentioned it.” Annette was the owner of the town’s hair salon and had been my mother’s best friend.
    Pop nodded. “For a while no one was certain whether the Thanksgiving thief cleaned her out or if it was her ex-boyfriend. The man was a skunk.”
    My mother had told me about the skunk. If she had mentioned the breakin, I hadn’t been paying attention, which made me sad.
    I quickly scanned the rest of the list. Some of the names—Betsy Moore, Nan Thain, and Doc Truman—were familiar. The rest were not. Pop started to give me a rundown on the victims, but after hearing about Betsy Moore’s controversial methods of inseminating a horse, I tuned him out. Sometimes too much information is a bad thing.
    “So who are we going to question first? My vote is for Barna Donovan. Last summer he said one of his goats was eaten by an alien.” Pop’s eyes glittered with excitement, which was way better than the sorrow that had been there earlier. Too bad I was going to disappoint him.
    “If I’m going to look like a professional investigator, I need to talk to victims on my own.”
    “You’re probably right.” Pop frowned. “We don’t want to get your new business off on the wrong foot. Just keep me posted on how things are going. I have fifty dollars riding on you catching the crook before Sean Holmes does.”
    The women in the room stopped talking, and their eyes settled on something behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I slowly turned around.
    Well, crap. Leaning against the doorjamb, looking at me, was Deputy Sean Holmes. His ash-blond hair stood up as though he’d raked his hands through it a bunch while questioning Ethel, and his smoldering eyes had me ready to duck for cover.
    “Where’s Ethel?” Pop demanded. “We want to make sure you didn’t rough her up.”
    Sean gave Pop a flat stare. “I don’t rough up old ladies.”
    “Who are you calling old?” Ethel appeared behind Sean. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red, but the way she was swinging her purse said she was ready for a fight.
    The crowd of women near the bikes took a step forward. Pop glared. Elvis and the septuagenarian Supremes were ready to rumble. Sean swallowed hard.
    Call me crazy, but I decided this was a good time to clear out. I said good-bye to my grandfather, who was slowly advancing on Sean, skirted around the action, and headed out of the room. Shrieking voices and shouts for an AARP uprising followed me all the way down the hall and out the door leading to the parking lot.
    The temperature was somewhere around freezing as I zipped up my coat and trudged to my car. Somewhere above the clouds the sun was probably shining, but it wasn’t making its way down here. The mist of rain falling from the sky made me glad I hadn’t walked the two and a half blocks from the rink to the center.
    “Funky Town” was blasting from the sound system as I strolled into the rink. Kids and adults of all ages boogied counterclockwise on wheels while laughing, screaming, and inevitably falling. The smell of popcorn and pizza made my stomach growl, and I remembered I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. After a quick talk with my staff, which today mostly consisted of responsible high school students, I decided everything was under control. I told them to call if they needed me and then headed back outside and around the side of the rink to the door leading to my second-story apartment.
    The apartment was blissfully quiet thanks to Mom’s decision to soundproof when she refurbished the place a few years ago. Kicking off my wet shoes, I made a beeline for the kitchen. I poured myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs as my cell phone rang. Almost certain the call was my grandfather needing to be bailed out of jail, I dug my phone out of my purse. Then I smiled with pleasure as I read the display. Lionel.
    I flipped