Sarah Booth Delaney 13.50 - Shorty Bones Read Free

feared being stalked. “And so can anyone else. This is unbelievable.”
    “The first adjective I would use for Lovey in almost any circumstance.”
    Tinkie racked up another point.
    “Let’s go home.” My concern for Graf outweighed my concern for Lovey, who seemed determined to put herself in harm’s way.
    * * *
    Dahlia House was ablaze with lights. I made my way down the sycamore-lined drive, remembering the times my parents had thrown dinner parties or gatherings and the house had glowed with warm and inviting lights. The evening heat was dissipating and when I crossed the porch, I heard male laughter. Graf and Harold Erkwell, a treasured friend, shared a moment of humor.
    Sweetie Pie’s mournful bay and the gravelly bark of Roscoe, Harold’s dog, clued me in to the antics taking place upstairs. When I entered Graf’s bedroom, I found Roscoe jumping back and forth over Sweetie’s back at Harold’s command.
    “I’d offer a drink, but I think men and dogs have already tipped the bottle.” It did my heart good to see Graf laughing. Pain had extracted a high toll on his normally good nature.
    “I’ve discovered that Roscoe has comedic abilities,” Harold said. “I’m thinking of David Letterman.”
    Harold had taken the evil little canine after his owner had been sentenced to prison during a prior case. I would forever be grateful, but it was clear that Roscoe had brought a level of joy to Harold’s life—a fair exchange.
    I kissed Graf’s cheek and let my hand drift across his forehead to check for an elevated temperature. He felt fine and he looked better than he had in a week.
    “Any luck with Lovey?” he asked.
    “She’s not the brightest lamp on the street.” I relayed her Facebook postings.
    “Why would someone who thinks she’s being stalked post everything she intends to do? It’s like an invitation to follow her.”
    “My thoughts exactly,” I said.
    “Lovey Jensen isn’t stupid.” Graf shifted in the bed. His leg was elevated, making it difficult to maneuver, but he wasn’t a whiner. “A friend of mine worked in the porn industry, and he said Lovey took a filmmaker to the cleaners.”
    “And she convinced Curtis Jensen to marry her,” Harold pointed out. “Word at the bank is there wasn’t a pre-nup, either.” He rubbed his right eyebrow. “Not to plant any nefarious ideas, but Curtis Jensen is worth a lot more dead than he is alive, and I’ll bet Lovey is heir to all of it.”
    “You think this whole stalker thing is a scam?” I’d had a sense something was off, right from the start, but this was devious. And far smarter than I’d given Lovey credit to be. I’d let my stereotyping get in the way of my investigating.
    “It’s the perfect way to set up an alibi,” Harold pointed out.
    “You two are a big help.” I kissed Harold’s cheek and planted a good one on Graf’s lips. I was lucky in love and lucky in friends. Now I was about to get lucky in turning the tables on one Lovey Jensen.
    * * *
    “Pilates will do you some good.” Jitty drifted out of my closet in a get-up that would have scared ten years off my life had I not been expecting her. Her blond hair was combed four inches high straight up off her forehead. Her features were flattened by the horrific war paint she’d donned, and her outfit looked like she was an invader from a dystopian society that liked chains, leather, and spandex.
    “I’m not going to work out. I’m going to spy on Lovey.”
    “Better get in the back of the class, ‘cause if you start spinnin’ and twirlin’ that butt, you gonna do some damage.”
    “Who, or what, are you dressed as?”
    “Famous Japanese female wrestler. Known for her savagery and for winning.”
    “I’ve seen the Glamorous Ladies of Wrestling or whatever they’re called. Some of them are pretty. Why not be one of the pretty ones?” I pulled my workout clothes on and picked up my purse. Graf had been fed and coffeed and was in the hands of the