The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

messed up.”
    “Sam. It’s her. Her face isn’t messed up. And I recognize her sweat suit—it’s University of Michigan. Her ponytail. Her eye shadow. How many women joggers were dressed like that this morning on this street? It’s her. I’m absolutely positive.”
    Sam seemed unconvinced.
    “She slammed into me, Sam. She grabbed on to me to steady herself. We both almost hit the ground. We were like holding on to each other, face-to-face, and—I don’t know. We had a moment.”
    “You had a moment?” Sam blinked. “You? With a dame?”
    Tony shrugged. “Not everything is about sex, Sam.”
    What? Wait, what were they saying? Was Tony gay?
    “Says you.”
    “I’m telling you, we had a moment. A purely nonsexual one, a human-to-human moment. It was intense. Like her eyes bored a hole into my head.”
    Sam paused, as if absorbing the information. “This is unbelievable. You’re telling us that this morning, that dead dame came on to you.”
    “She didn’t come on to me—”
    “But it’s the same broad. You’re positive?”
    “How many times do I have to say so? Yes. I’m positive.”
    “Son of a gun.” Sam shook his head, baffled. “The kid doesn’t even like women, but he goes out for the paper and some hot blonde jumps him.”
    “She didn’t jump me. She collided with me.”
    “Whatever. A few hours later, she ends up gutted like a deer. In the back of the place where you’re staying.”
    Again, for a moment, the three of us sat silent. I wondered why Nick hadn’t mentioned that Tony was gay. Not that it mattered, but still. And I didn’t know what it meant that Tony had seen the victim before. In fact, I wasn’t sure it meant anything at all. But, clearly, the police had to be told. I stood to go get Nick and almost tripped over Oliver, who’d been watching us beside the wingback. Damn, I’d forgotten about Oliver—it had been hours. He must need to go out. But I couldn’t let him out back; it was a crime scene with a body on the ground. I’d have to take him out front. I knocked on the window, motioning Nick to come inside.
    Oliver gave out an accusatory bark. Then, watching me, slowly and deliberately, he lifted a leg and piddled on my hardwood floor.

S EVEN
    B Y THREE O’CLOCK, THE fog had mostly burned off, and Sam and I waited at the corner for Molly’s school bus. Sam tried to divert my attention from the crime by talking about various time- share properties he was selling, pushing me to think about investing in the Bahamas or Playa del Something-or-other, just outside of Cancun. After all, with two kids, Nick and I would want a place for family vacations. I tuned Sam out, watching for the bus, wondering how I would explain to Molly why police cars were blocking the street, double-parked in front of our house where the bus normally dropped her off. At least there were no sirens or flashing lights.
    Finally, the bus pulled up to the corner, and Molly burst out the door and bounced down the steps, yellow curls flying as she looked up the street. “Mom, what happened?”
    Not “hello.” Not a kiss or hug. Molly greeted us with a wide, suspicious gaze and a direct question.
    “How was your day, Molls?” I dodged. Actually, her question hadn’t entirely startled me. Molly had an unflinching way of confronting trouble. But so soon? Even before hello? My explanation wasn’t ready. I glanced at Sam, who glanced at me.
    “Here’s my girl.” He reached for her, scooped her off the ground. “Give your uncle a hug.”
    But Molly wouldn’t be distracted, even as she perched in Sam’s hefty arms. “Why are you guys here? You never wait for my bus.”
    Ouch. She was right. I hadn’t greeted her bus in months, not since Luke was born. Did she feel neglected? Guilty, I fumbled for an answer. I never lied to Molly, but I hadn’t fully figured out what I was going to say. The day had passed in a blur, and suddenly it had been time for her bus to pull up. How could I explain