Touch-Me-Not Read Free

key. Where in hell was the key? Leroy fumbled through Maureen’s top desk drawer and found it.
    “Stop shouting, kids. The neighbors . . .” He twisted the key in the lock. The key broke off. “Damn!”
    “Daaaaaddy!”
    “Zeke’s gonna wet his pants,” said Jared.
    “Use the bushes, Zeke!” Sweat was dripping into LeRoy’s eyes and he was having trouble seeing.
    “Daaaaaaddy!”
    He glanced around. Had he overlooked anything? Seemed okay. He went to the back door and opened it. Zeke was dancing from one foot to another. “Sorry, kids. Had to tend to something.”
    “Why’d you lock the door?” Jared asked. “You never lock the door.”
    His two boys, twins, tumbled in, hot and sweaty from baseball, a dirty-clean nine-year-old-boy smell.
    “Pee-yew! Something stinks!” said Jared.
    Zeke unzipped his jeans and raced for the toilet.
    “Did the coach buy you pizza?” LeRoy searched for his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, then realized it was wrapped around the cell phone in the file drawer.
    Jared nodded. “All of us guys. Pepperoni.”
    “What did you have to drink?” LeRoy snatched a paper towel off the stack on the counter and mopped his brow.
    “Lemonade.” Jared made a face. “He never buys Cokes.”
    “Lemonade’s healthier,” said LeRoy, crumpling up the paper towel and putting it into his pocket.
    Zeke reappeared. “What stinks, Daddy?”
    “Something I’m working on,” said LeRoy, wondering how he could get the corpse out of the supply closet, now he’d broken the key, and when he’d be able to get it into the van, and where he could leave the body of Jerry Sparks.
    As he was wondering how he could dispose of the corpse, LeRoy heard a gentle rap on the front door and the sound of a key turning, and Maureen, his office manager, entered. She was a comfortable woman in her early sixties and had been with him since he’d started the business eight years ago. “You’re still here, Mr. Watts?” She glanced around. “Heavens! What on earth is that smell?”
    “Coach bought us pizza, Maureen!” said Zeke, dancing around her.
    “That’s nice.” She advanced into the showroom. “I’ve never forgotten my purse before. Getting old, I guess. I was carrying that spider plant Mrs. Avery gave me, and I totally forgot.”
    The office phone rang, and before LeRoy could stop her, Maureen answered it. “Watts Electrical Supply.”
    LeRoy couldn’t hear the voice of the caller.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re closed.” Maureen listened, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Emily Cameron. She wants to know if her, um, friend ”—she emphasized the word—“Jerry Sparks is still here. He’s not answering his cell phone, she says.” She removed her hand from the mouthpiece.
    “Afraid not,” said LeRoy, reaching for a paper towel.
    Maureen reported that to the caller, listened, then turned to LeRoy again. “She says he was going to stop by.”
    “He’s not here now,” said LeRoy, not looking at her.
    “Sorry, Emily,” and Maureen hung up. “I don’t understand why such a nice girl has anything to do with that dreadful man. Do you know her?”
    “She’s done some baby-sitting for us. She just got a job at the boatyard.”
    “A lovely girl.” Maureen shook her head. “What goes through some people’s minds, I’ll never know.” She headed toward the file cabinet. “I’ll get my purse from the bottom drawer and leave.” She sniffed. “What is that smell?”
    “It’s not us,” said Zeke, pinching his nose between finger and thumb.
    Just as Maureen was reaching for her purse, the cell phone in the file drawer uttered a loud rap phrase.
    “Good heavens!” Maureen laid her hand on her chest. “How that startled me!” She found the cell phone, still swathed in LeRoy’s handkerchief, and the phone burped out its rap phrase. “Whose phone is this?” She held it up.
    He looked away. “Customer must have left it.”
    “I suppose I should answer?” The phone