***So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child.   She finds a body then finds a murder weapon.  She is the prime suspect.  Instinct tells her an old high school friend, Missy Toblerone, is somehow involved.  But in order to investigate, Miranda has to let Missy back into her circle.  But, will doing so put the ones she loves at risk? ***

 

 

 

 

After gorging on those delicious Oreos, I sleep like a baby.  I wake, feeling better, and more at peace than I have in weeks.

 

I fix Waylon a quick breakfast, go to send him off with a warning not to give Mrs. Fine the finger.  

 

"Aaron wants to go back to the pond.  He's afraid to ask you.  This is something that means a lot to him.  Can we?  Please?" he asks, hoisting his backpack on one shoulder.

 

The mention of the pond sends a shiver through me.  There's a voice in my head telling me to just shut it down right now, but there is something in Waylon's voice that tells me it means more to him than he's willing to admit.  I think that Waylon sees Aaron as a surrogate father in some ways.  Of course, a coat rack could have replaced Dougie.  But Waylon needs Aaron.

 

"Can I give you an answer tonight?  Let me see how I feel after work?  Fair?"

 

He nods.  "Shit.  Bus is coming.  See ya tonight."  He takes off in a full sprint down the road.

 

I pour myself a cup of coffee.  After putting the cushions back on the couch, I sit down.  I should read more.  I used to read.  Murder mysteries were my favorite.  Dougie told me it was a turn off.  Said it made me suspicious.  Hell, I was born suspicious.  Those books just helped fine tune those suspicions.

 

I finish my coffee and take the cup to the sink.  I wash it and set it in the drain rack then look around.  My house needs a good cleaning.  I have two hours before I have to go in to work so I start with the kitchen.  

 

I'm making pretty good progress until the phone rings.

 

"Hello."

 

"What the hell happened to you last night?"  Missy says.  She sounds pissed.

 

"I left a note.  I was getting a migraine."

 

"Oh, bullshit, Miranda.  One of the bartenders said you were snooping through my purse.  What were you looking for?"

 

I press my lips together because there is a big part of me that is dying to blurt out, "I think you killed your husband, and I was looking for proof."  But I can't do that, now can I?  So, I scramble for a save.  "I was hoping you had some ibuprofen."

 

"Oh.  Well, you should have come told me or, at least, waited until I was finished using the bathroom."

 

I pinch the bridge of my nose.  "Well, I apologize, but you were gone an awfully long time."

 

"How about we meet tonight?"

 

"Oh, sorry but I have work."

 

She's silent for a few seconds.  "How's your boy toy?"

 

"Excuse me, what?"

 

"The Earl boy."

 

"Aaron?  He's my neighbor.  Nothing more."

 

"Rita thinks you're into him.  Is she wrong?"

 

"Yes.  Yes, she is wrong."

 

"You aren't still pining away for Dougie, are you?"

 

She's asking a lot of questions.  Like she's looking for my Achilles heel.  I've never been one to air my dirty laundry to those close to me.  I'm certainly not going to share with the likes of Missy Toblerone.

 

"He's not worth it, Miranda.  If he were to get hit by a bus today, there wouldn't be one person to miss him."

 

I think about Waylon.  He would.  I would, too.  Though he could be a jack ass, we both care about him.  "That's not exactly true.  His son would miss him."

 

"So you say.  But, in all honesty, some people are better off just disappearing.  They offer nothing to the world."

 

"Like Jason?"  Without thinking, the words tumble out of my mouth.

 

"Yes," she says.  "The Jason everyone else knew wasn't the one I was married to."

 

"So, who were you married to?"

 

"A monster.  He used to do horrible things to me.  Miranda, if he hadn't disappeared when he did, he may very well have killed me."  She sounds like she's crying. 

 

But it sounds forced. Or maybe I just want to believe it's put on.  

 

"Why didn't you go to the police?"

 

"I kept thinking I could change him."

 

"Why didn't you leave him?"

 

As sad as she sounded just seconds before, her voice suddenly sounds cold.  "I'm starting to think you don't believe me."

 

"I knew Jason, Missy.  He was arrogant, no doubt, but he never struck me as abusive."

 

"Don't judge a book by it's cover.  That's what I told that reporter when she was asking about you.  Told her that we went way back.  You'd had run-ins with the law but I wouldn't ever suspect you of murder.  Least, not premeditated.  But then, you do have a temper.  Everybody around here knows that."

 

I feel my blood start to boil.  "Don't talk to that reporter about me.  Do you understand?"

 

"We're actually supposed to meet for coffee this afternoon.  I was gonna cancel if we had come to terms last night.  But, you got that headache, and went home."

 

"We aren't friends, Missy.  We haven't been in a very long time.  Nothing you say will have any relevance."

 

She giggles in the phone.  "I can be your best friend or your worst nightmare.  It's totally up to you."

 

"I can say the same."

 

"Ta-ta." The line goes dead.

 

  I've got to find out who's framing me and why.  This rabid reporter is willing to turn over any person from my past, in order to find some dirt on me.  And Missy is willing to provide as much as she can.  The sheriff thinks I'm hiding something.

 

I might not be Nancy Drew, but I better solve this mystery fast.

 

 

 

 

To be continued ...