Worked to Death (Working Stiff Mysteries Book 2) by Kerri Nelson Page B

throw up all over the potential evidence.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    "My get up and go has done got up and went." —Things We Say in the South
     
    I got zero sleep. Between the motorboat sound that Sundae made as she snoozed deeply on the sofa and my checking and double-checking on Matty to be sure that she didn't (a) murder us in our sleep or (b) choke on her own stomach contents in her drunken stupor, I basically paced around the house all night waiting for the sun to come up.
    The one thing I had accomplished was to retrieve the evidence containing garbage bag from under the sink and slip it into the trunk of my car. I hadn't been brave enough to try to extract the note that was covered in Matty's stomach contents, but I had it nonetheless. At least until I decided whether or not it was significant at any rate.
    This had been a terrible night off from watching after my sister. I would remember this next time someone offered. I was better off locked behind closed doors with my sister and my pooch, Pickles.
    I thought of him and decided to slip into the laundry room to phone Ms. Lanier and ask that she feed him.
    I was going to have to change clothes at Hollon Brothers Towing this morning and not take my shower until after my shift. I certainly wouldn't have time for primping after taking Sundae home. It was already only an hour before my shift.
    I had hoped that Matty would wake up so I could chat with her about Mick's death. To express my true condolences and to see if she seemed suspicious in the light of day. In all of my late-night pacing, I'd decided that I still couldn't believe she'd murder the man she'd been with all these years. I could still see them cuddling together under a stadium blanket in high school. I could still hear their laughter on the morning radio show.
    Ms. Lanier had been right that it was an aggravating show. But I believed that the reason it grated was because they seemed so darned happy.
    I tried to think of why Mick would throw all that away to be with the much older Ms. Jamison. I couldn't remember her all that clearly, but from what I could remember—she was certainly no Matty Thibault. It just didn't make sense. Why would he have an affair with her eight or nine years ago and then start back up again now?
    The phone rang on the other end of my cell phone, and Ms. Lanier answered after only two rings.
    "How'd your night go? I heard that you took one drunk, screaming widow home just to keep her from getting arrested by Devvie," Ms. Lanier said with no shortage of glee.
    "Of course you know the details, did Ms. Maimie fill you in?"
    "Well of course she did. We already had morning coffee. Apparently, Devvie came home and told her everything—including the fact that you have a date later today. Woo hoo! It's about time, girl." Her laughter was so loud that I held the phone out a few inches until the ruckus died down.
    "It's not really a date." I tried to tone down her excitement. I was starting to have second thoughts about starting something up with Ms. Maimie's grandson anyway. I'd had time to think about it more, and one of the reasons that it was a bad idea was because I didn't want it to damage my relationship with my dear friend Ms. Maimie in any way.
    "Okay. Okay. You're just having dessert. I know. That's what Devvie told her as well." Ms. Lanier tried to calm her voice, but I could tell that she was still smiling.
    I smiled back through the phone.
    "Listen, I wanted to see if you could feed Pickles for me. I have to take Sundae home and then get to work at Hollon's."
    "No problem. He's actually over here with me right now."
    "He's—what?" I looked down at the phone as if I could see through it.
    "Yeah, hope you don't mind. I brought the poor dear over here last night. He seemed so sad that both his girls were gone."
    I knew she was probably right. He'd had a tough time adjusting since he'd lost Aunt Patty, too. People sometimes forget that about animals. They do mourn.
    "It's okay. Just