Dead Women Tell No Lies Read Free Page A

either happened.
    He held out his card. “Here’s my number. Call me night or day.”
    “What about your family? I don’t want to intrude.”
    “You won’t bother anyone. Call.”
    At his last clipped word, she looked closer. An air of authority that breathed confidence rolled off his broad shoulders. She wished it would land on her.
    “I’d like to discuss the progress of the case when I’m more on top of everything.”
    “I’ll keep you up to date,” he promised, gentling his voice. His blue eyes met hers. “Don’t worry. We’ll arrest the person who did this to your sister. She won’t be forgotten.”
    The forceful, steady light of certainty shone through his gaze, and the strong line of his whiskered jaw tightened. She believed him. A sense of relief and assurance poured through her. Palming his card, she slid inside the front seat. She’d meet with Detective Lennox again soon. She keyed the engine of her vehicle and merged into the traffic.
    “I won’t forget, Gram,” she whispered, blinking away tears. “I’ll keep my promise to find Dahlia’s killer.” Her hand went to the weapon’s bulge in her pocket.

 
    Chapter 2
     
    Monday, Dahlia was buried with her First Communion rosary next to Mom and Gram in Brattleboro’s Village Cemetery. Father Mark bent his balding head and said the final prayers in the shadow of the mountain, just beyond the moss covered markers. Several church members, a handful of neighbors and Gram’s co-workers from the diner listened to the pastor’s words. With the murmur of one final rest in peace, they disbanded for refreshments in the church’s basement.
    As children, Rose and Dahlia had always whined about attending Sunday Mass, and as they grew independent, they skipped the weekly ritual. Today, the familiar faces added a sense of support and consolation.
    Rose accepted condolences and answered the discreet inquires about the investigation into Dahlia’s death. Time seemed to drag, and Rose longed to escape. When the last mourner left, she swallowed the lump in her throat and caught up with her friend, Cassie, to discuss arrangements for keeping her store open. A friend since kindergarten, Cassie accepted the job of holding down the boutique until Rose returned.
    The next day Rose drove to Ledgeview to follow through on her promise to Gram. She locked herself away in Dahlia’s apartment and pulled out the photo album she’d brought back. The pictures always gave her the feeling that she belonged to a real family.
    She opened the worn cover and flipped to the first photo of her always sober, gray-haired grandmother. If only her sister paid attention to Gram’s favorite warning: “Always work hard and remember the only free lunch sits in the mousetrap.”
    It was advice Dahlia ignored and her mother botched by giving birth to them at age seventeen. On the next page, Dahlia had inserted a magazine picture of George Clooney with the label “Father” printed underneath.
    Rose shook her head and turned to the photo of her mother who could now pass for her sister. The camera’s eye preserved her mom’s youth at age twenty-five. In her short life, her mother had several boyfriends but never met a man who cared for her beyond a month or two.
    Maybe the Blue women weren’t born for love. None of them had found it. Not that it mattered. Tomorrow she’d meet with Detective Lennox. She prayed he was about to make an arrest. His intense stare and sharp questions left her on edge, yet his decisiveness drew her to him. She liked the fact a strong man was working her sister’s case. He’d find Dahlia’s killer.
    The memory of Dahlia lying in the morgue hung in her mind. Her lifeless eyes stared forever upward. Her blue lips frozen open in a last gasp.
    Rose tossed the album aside, threw on her winter wear and fled the apartment and the painful memory. The cold soon invaded her boots and gloves, but she welcomed the fresh air. She wandered the well‒lit sidewalks of