Hide nor Hair (A Jersey Girl Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Jo-Ann Lamon Reccoppa Page B

you?” he asked.
    “Give me a few minutes. You’re making me nervous. I’ll find it.”
    “Close it all out and reopen the Word program. It’ll come up on a list automatically under recent files. Print it out, so I can take it with me. Wait until I’m gone before you try to attach it to an email. I can’t stand to watch you fumbling with it. Meanwhile, I assume Matthew Oliver will be out here in the morning to resolve your heating and cooling problems. As I said, I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation with Neil. Let’s see if we can work out some questions for you to ask the Hot Air King regarding his deceased wife.”
    I grabbed a pad out from beneath a pile of junk mail on my desk and found a pen in the drawer.
    “You said Matthew came out to the house a few days ago, but he didn’t say much. He might be more willing to talk now that a few more days have passed.”
    I called up the weather on the computer screen. “It’s supposed to be in the mid-eighties tomorrow. Hot enough work installing a furnace in the basement and a new air unit outside in the sun. I’ll make a big pitcher of iced tea and make sure good old Matthew Oliver is plenty hydrated. If he keeps coming into the kitchen to get a cold drink, I can get him to talk.”
    “Use the hair angle to get him talking. Ask him if Dizzie’s Salon will go on without her,” Ken suggested.
    My hand automatically went to my hair. Though it wasn’t inordinately humid outside, the curls still magically happened. I wondered if my unruly mane reminded him of the salon.
    “You never went to get your hair straightened out at that Trina’s Tresses place,” he said, confirming my hunch.
    “Next week for sure,” I told him. “Seriously. Next week. I have enough to do without going there and worrying if I’m going to come out bald.”
    Ken pushed back the kitchen chair and stood. “Just make sure you get Trina to work on you. Try to fit whatever she says about Dizzie Oliver into your next column.”
    “Okay,” I agreed.
    “And remember, you still have to finish that story for Meredith about the flying lessons.”
    I nodded. How could I forget?
    “And Colleen …”
    “Yes?”
    His voice softened. “Don’t beat yourself up over Neil and the kids. Cut yourself a little slack, okay?” He took the sheet of paper with the airport body story from the printer tray and started for the door.
    “Thanks,” I called out after him.
    “Anytime,” he replied before leaving. I watched him go, wondering if he would figure into my future in some way more significant than being my employer.
    I hoped so.
    * * *
    I returned to my desk, feeling melancholy, and scribbled a few thoughts down on the pad of paper before turning my attention back to the computer. There was already a draft of the email I would be sending Ken Rhodes, and I called it up. It took fifteen minutes, give or take an hour, to find the story about the body in the field. I attached it to the email and sent it, then went to the kitchen to eat a celebratory Twinkie.
    I found Sara rummaging through the refrigerator, looking for apples. Of course, there were none. I needed to make a food run, but the last few days had been so busy, there hadn’t been time. I suggested water, of which there was plenty. Sara wanted something more.
    “There’s never anything decent to eat in this house,” she complained.
    I looked at her skinny legs and thin arms. The kid had always been a picky eater, but she’d been on a healthy-eating kick for months and months now, which meant she wouldn’t touch most of the items that were staples in my house. Even if I jammed the refrigerator with what I considered healthy choices, I knew she would snub them.
    “Maybe you can add a little more variety to your diet,” I suggested. “A baked potato once in a while, a piece of salmon, or even a turkey burger …”
    “A baked potato?” she asked incredulously. “Carbs are killers, Mom.”
    “Brown rice won’t