Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning Page B

waiting for some randy dude to try this since she hit town. Every guy in El Royo thought she was fair game. But she hadn’t expected a cop to show up at her door and try to get laid. A cop who worked with Rafe, who she’d thought was a friend.
    She stood. “Get out of here before I report you to whoever the hell is running the station now.”
    His lower lip pushed out into an ugly pout as he rose. His eyes hardened. “You’re hooking up with the wrong guy, darlin’. Officer Morales has a yellow stripe down his back a mile wide. Ask him about it the next time you screw him.”
    She was free falling into a nightmare. For the first time since her father’s conviction, she’d actually trusted a cop. She’d considered Rafe a friend, and he was going around town bragging he’d gotten some off her. Her eyes raked Derek’s face. “Get out.”
    After the cop left, her fingers itched to text a blistering message to Rafe, that snake . But her cell was dead since she couldn’t pay her bill. Maybe he’d slink off on his own, too ashamed to face her since she hadn’t heard from him since Saturday night.

    An hour later, Dinah slid her feet into a comfortable pair of flip-flops and headed into town for groceries. Fortunately it was a beautiful morning for a walk since she was nearly out of gas. She quickened her pace as she passed a two-story brick colonial with fake columns and a manicured lawn. Gerry Sutton’s place. She did not want to run into him again. When she rounded the next corner, her footsteps fell back into an easy gait.
    At the corner, the carpet of tended lawns abruptly ended at a yard surrounded by rusted fence barely able to contain the overgrown vegetation pressing against it. Poking up past the shaggy shrubs were the eaves of an unkempt bungalow. Paint peeled from the wood, and a torn screen dangled from a window covered in newspaper. Snippets of faded white house showed through the leggy bushes, and Dinah squinted through the sparse branches of an Indian Hawthorn as she passed. Dirt-phobic, meticulous Lonnie must have moved.
    Out of nowhere, the body of a large animal hurled itself against the fence, rattling the links. Dinah jumped back as a greyhound leapt up, balancing its paws on the fence and barked sharply. When it saw Dinah, it began to whine.
    She pressed a hand to her chest to still her pounding heart. “You startled me.”
    The dog’s ears perked up, and it tilted its head. It seemed to be smiling at her.
    “Aren’t you a cutie?”
    The dog whined again and shook its tail eagerly. Pet me, pet me.
    Dinah was considering the risks of sticking her hand in the vicinity of a strange dog’s teeth, when a man’s voice interrupted her.
    “Daisy? Daisy Mae? Where did you get to?”
    She’d have recognized that voice anywhere. She heard it every fourth Friday night when she was growing up. Poker player number four, Lonnie Bigsky. The lightness fell out of her day.
    “Dang animal. Barks at everything. Day and night. Can’t hardly sleep some nights.”
    The bushes rustled again, and Lonnie’s upper body popped up at the fence beside the dog. Lonnie was sure a changed man. The muscular, well-groomed, former armored car driver was thin and slumped over. A greasy ponytail snaked down his back. He reached for the dog, but poked his palm on a rusty link instead. “Dang it all!” He studied his hand before rubbing it against a stained T-shirt. When he finished, he focused on Dinah. His face paled.
    “What are you doing here, girl?”
    She wasn’t taking crap from an underhanded sneak. “Here? On this public sidewalk?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Actually, I don’t. I was walking by when your dog came out of nowhere and barked at me. The next thing I know, you’re accusing me of coming here on purpose.”
    “You didn’t?”
    “I’m busy.” She began to walk away.
    “Did Teke come to see you before he died?”
    Dinah’s feet stopped.
    “You told him where the money was, didn’t you?