Jo-Ann Lamon Reccoppa - Jersey Girl 01 - New Math Is Murder Read Online Free

taken seriously or given the respect they deserved. The lettuce glistened, wet and soggy. The tomatoes were cut into thick, unappetizing wedges. The carrots were huge chunks of orange—the jaws of life wouldn’t have been able to break through them.
    “I’m just not hungry,” I told everyone at the table.
    “That’s a first,” Dick teased.
    My brother jumped in his seat and reached down beneath the table to massage his leg. I knew Delia had kicked him hard in the shin. My mother let the comment slide. My parents always thought of Dick as their golden child. Being the only boy, he was the pride and joy of both the Irish and Italian sides of the family and had been allowed to get away with just about everything.
    “I’m sorry. I think I’ll just go home and go to bed,” I told everyone.
    “Geez, Colleen, I was just kidding,” Dick said, and I knew, deep down, that he was. He fought all my battles in grade school and took my side in every altercation on the block. But inside the house was another matter entirely. He treated me the way I treated our kid sister Kate. We observed the pecking order.
    I pushed back my chair and stood. “Don’t let the kids stay up too late, Mom.”
    “We’re doing that Xbox thing after we eat,” my father informed me. That meant Bobby would stay up until long after midnight and probably beat the pants off his grandfather.
    I used the backyard shortcut and entered my kitchen through the sliding door. The flashing red light on the answering machine caught my attention right away. There were two messages. Kate called to ask if I enjoyed my morning jog. I knew my mother had told her about the body. Ron Haver also called. He said he would drop by sometime in the early evening with a few more questions. I barely had time to fix a gin and diet tonic before the doorbell rang.
    Ron Haver slouched beneath the porch light. His crisp suit was a jumble of lines and creases, and his usually perfect hair looked lifeless.
    “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I have to clear up a few things, and I’d like to get it done right away. Are you busy?”
    “Not really.” He eyed my drink, longingly, I thought. “You look like you could use one of these,” I said. “I take it you had a rough day.”
    “A hectic one,” he admitted.
    He stepped inside and pulled the battered notebook I saw at the Little League field from his breast pocket.
    “Have a seat,” I said, motioning to the sofa.
    “Thanks. I’ve been on the run all day, and you’re my last stop.”
    “Would you like a drink? Or maybe coffee?”
    “I’m still on duty,” he said. “Coffee would be great.”
    “I’ll bet you’re hungry. How about something to eat?”
    “That’s really nice of you, Colleen. I skipped lunch and dinner.”
    So did I, I thought.
    I went to the kitchen to make coffee and throw together a sandwich. When I returned, Haver’s eyes were closed and his snores filled the room. I gave him a gentle nudge and whispered, “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. The coffee’s ready.”
    He snapped awake, disoriented, and glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. “I must have dozed off. Sorry. Look at this sandwich!”
    Like my mother, I possessed no cooking skills. But sandwiches were my specialty, and they usually dazzled my guests—capicola, Genoa salami, provolone, lettuce, tomato, red onion, with a splash of olive oil and balsamic vinegar on a sliced hard roll from Lisa’s Bakery.
    “It’s nothing really.”
    Haver took a huge bite, then another. I sat down beside him and glanced at the words scribbled in his open notepad.
    “It’s only your name, address, and a few words about your mishap with the body,” he said when he caught me looking.
    “I can see that. How’s the sandwich?”
    “Great,” Haver said. “But it’s too big. Please take some of this.”
    He held out half the sandwich, and I took a reluctant bite. It was good, but it really could have used mozzarella and there wasn’t any in the