Read Touch-Me-Not for Free Online Page B

backing away from the door. “Sorry.”
    “Give him a message, will you?” said Beany. “That’s a damned piece of junk he sold me and I want my money back.”
    “Sure, but I don’t expect to see him anytime soon,” said LeRoy. “Sorry about that, buddy.”
    “No problem,” said Beany. “When you see him, tell him I said, ‘Or else.’ ” With that, Beany turned away and stepped off the three back steps in one long stride.
    “Sure. Okay,” said LeRoy to Beany’s departing back.
    A key turned in the front door lock and the door opened. LeRoy swiveled around, expecting to see Jerry Sparks.
    Maureen put her key back into her purse. “I didn’t realize you were here, Mr. Watts. The door was locked.”
    “Sorry, I forgot.”
    Maureen studied him. “You seem to have an awful lot on your mind, Mr. Watts.”
    LeRoy nodded. “I’ve got a couple of errands to do, Maureen.” He had to find Sparks’s computer, and soon. “I’ll be away from the shop most of the morning. I broke off the key in the supply closet, so the door’s unlocked. Need to get a new key. Call me if something comes up. I’ve got my cell phone.”
    It was another fine, bright morning with a brilliant blue sky and the scent of spring in the air. LeRoy was too preoccupied to notice. He checked his watch. After 8:30.
    After 8:30. Victoria had been working in her garden for more than an hour. Last summer, she had sowed seeds of touch-me-not near a lush growth of poison ivy that thrived in a damp spot on the other side of her vegetable garden. She’d gathered the seeds from plants that grew alongside the brook on the other side of Doane’s pasture. When she was a child, even before she could read, she’d loved to touch the seedpods that popped like birthday favors, shooting seeds into the air and water and earth like tiny missiles. Last summer, she’d felt almost guilty, touching as many of the fat pods as she could reach to watch the exploding seedpods and the way the emptied pod split and snapped back into tight curls. It still seemed magical. Touch-me-not grew in the same places poison ivy did and was an antidote. You merely rubbed touch-me-not on your skin where it had been exposed to poison ivy, and the itchy rash wouldn’t develop. Or that’s what they said.
    She got slowly to her feet. Eight-thirty wasn’t too early to call her attorney friend, Myrna Luce. Her legs had cramped from kneeling too long. But she’d found the green leaves of touch-me-not poking out of the dirt where she’d planted them. A good discovery for this fine morning.
    She limped back to the house, her muscles gradually easing, and called Myrna. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Unofficially.”
    Myrna laughed. “I won’t charge you, if that’s what you’re asking. Come about four, and I’ll break out the sherry. Do you need a ride?”
    “No, thank you. I’ve got transportation.”

C HAPTER 7

    Jerry Sparks lived, or had lived, in a basement room in a house off Wing Road, a place owned by old Mrs. Rudge. He’d done work for her in the past. LeRoy parked in the driveway, went up to her kitchen door, and knocked.
    Mrs. Rudge shuffled to the door in her bedroom slippers, a wiry woman in her seventies, cigarette hanging from her lips, eyes half-closed against the smoke.
    She held the door partway open. “Yeah?”
    “Mrs. Rudge, I’m LeRoy Watts, your electrician. Is Jerry Sparks in?”
    “Haven’t seen him for several days. He owes me rent.”
    “I need to get something he borrowed from me. Mind if I take a look in his place?”
    Mrs. Rudge removed the cigarette from her mouth with thumb and third finger and flicked the ashes onto the floor. “Be my guest.”
    “Thanks. Is his place locked?”
    “I doubt it,” and Mrs. Rudge shut the door.
    LeRoy went around to the outdoor basement entrance and tried the door. Not locked, of course. Nothing much in the place. An unmade futon with a greasy pillow and a wadded-up blanket, empty carryout