Along Came a Demon Read Free Page A

gone from here, Lindy. That’s the deal.”
    She came after me. “But where will I - “
    “ I don’t know,” I cut in. “But not here.”
    I’m not unsympathetic, far from it, but there have to be boundaries between the living and the dead. Their place of departure is typically their boundary, but in Lindy’s case, with her ability to move about, I had to outline those boundaries for her. My backyard would not to be the place she lingered till she passed over.
    “ By the way,” I added as she wandered toward the fruit trees, “the man in your apartment, what did he look like?”
    She half-turned back. “I don’t remember very well. He moved so fast, he was a blur. I think he had long yellow hair. Oh, and his eyes seemed to glint. I don’t mean how a person’s eyes can gleam in lamplight, they … oh, I don’t know. They just looked strange.”
    I headed for the backdoor leading to the kitchen, acorns from the scrub oak crunching underfoot. I made a face - another oddity. The one thing the dead never forget is the face of their killer.

    “ Well?”
    I poured more coffee. “It’s her all right.”
    “ And?”
    “ A man was in her apartment. I think he killed her, but I don’t know how. She doesn’t know herself. All she’s interested in is her little boy.” I frowned at Jack, wondering if I skipped over some of the newspaper article. “The paper didn’t mention a child, did it?”
    “ If it had, I would have told you.”
    I got up from the table. “I’m gonna talk to Mike.”
    Jack went to the window in the backdoor, from where he could see Lindy. “She’s a looker. Wouldn’t mind wrapping myself around that.”
    “ Now that I’d like to see,” said Mel.
    “ Yeah, Jack,” I chimed in as I headed for the stairs. “And why don’t you pass me the newspaper while you’re at it.”
    I gave Mel a conspiratorial look. We girls have to stick together. Jack glared at both of us. “I suppose you think you’re funny.”
    “ Well … yeah.”
    Dead people. They slay me.

Chapter T wo

    Showered, clad in Levis, white long-sleeved sweater and white surgical-style tennis shoes, I headed for the door, grabbing up my green corduroy jacket as I passed through the hall.
    The windows of my navy-blue Subaru Forrester were thick with frost. I knew I should have put it in the garage last night. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Five minutes later, I turned off Beecher onto Second Street and headed downtown.
    My cell rang. It was Colin. “Hi Tiff.”
    Colin is a nice guy. I met him at the court house, me on the way in, he on the way out after paying a speeding fine. We collided in the entrance, kind of rebounded, and looked each other up and down. I guess he liked what he saw as much as I did, because he apologized and invited me for coffee. That was three months ago. Colin is a gangling six-four, with fine, pale-blond hair and lazy blue-gray eyes. During my teen years, we called eyes like Col’s “go-to-bed-eyes.” I didn’t get to that piece of furniture till our eighth date, with a little urging from me. Our relationship had progressed to the “next level” and, well, I was a happy camper.
    My bones loosened a little and my voice dropped an octave. “Hi, Colin.”
    “ Did you have a good time last night?”
    “ I had a great time.” A nice meal at a good restaurant. A few drinks. Back to his house. His nice empty house. Just him and me. I call that a good night.
    I got lost in the memory a little and almost drove through Gillian as she leaped in the road. I swerved to miss her, glowering and wagging my finger. She hunched her little shoulders and backed up to the bushes from which she’d emerged.
    I avoided her mother like the plague. Gillian cropped up in the conversation every time I bumped into her mom, even after three years. Listening to a mother reminisce about her dead child is really uncomfortable when the little blighter jumps in front of your car almost every time you drive past her