No Gun Intended Read Online Free

way,” Mom said.
    I swallowed again. “Who?”
    â€œLoren Scranton.”
    I leaned back in my chair. “Mom! Who are you, Lis Salander? Are you hacking into computers now?”
    â€œWho’s Lis Salander?”
    â€œ The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Didn’t you see that movie? Or read the book? Good stuff.”
    Mom shook her head. “No. Anyway, all I did was Google him.” She paused. “Want to know what I found out?”
    â€œNot really.” We stared at each other. “Go ahead. Tell me.”
    Mom grinned and jumped up to get a notepad from the kitchen counter, then came back to sit down with me. “He’s an accountant!”
    â€œDangerous guy. Wow.”
    â€œAnd he lives in Brooklyn!”
    â€œWe’d better alert the New York Times. ”
    â€œAnd, best of all…” She paused again for effect.
    â€œPlease, Mom, I can’t stand this suspense. Wait, don’t tell me. He’s a Boy Scout leader!”
    Mom snorted. “No! He’s a member of the NRA!”
    I laughed. “So are about a billion other people. C’mon, with a name like Loren, I bet he needs a gun to defend himself against bullies.”
    Mom dropped her notepad on the table. “Well, he probably owns at least one gun, if he’s a member. I think that’s an important clue.”
    I rubbed my eyes. “Mom, hell, I own a gun, sort of. That doesn’t make me a criminal.”
    â€œI know, I know. And we should talk about that some more, I think. It was news to me that Mickey got you a gun. But right now I feel like I’m onto something with this Scranton prick. Maybe something important.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe I could volunteer to help out at the police station. Do research or something.”
    I stood up. “Prick? You don’t know that. Well, you sort of do. I mean, a rich guy offering twenty-five bucks for a sweater is a true sign of prickdom. Anyway, slow down, Miss Marple.”
    She frowned.
    â€œReally, Mom? Agatha Christie? She wrote a ton of mysteries. You should see 4:50 from Paddington. That movie is a classic. The TV series Murder, She Wrote was based on a movie that was based on the first film, and…”
    â€œAnnabelle, darling, I have heard of Agatha Christie and Miss Marple, believe it or not. But I don’t see why I shouldn’t try to help out, and I think you should tell Mickey what I found out about Mr. Scranton.”
    I nodded. “Yup, he probably wouldn’t have already checked him out.” I smiled.
    Mom rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. I’ll leave Scranton the dickhead alone for now and you get ready to go to the Japanese Garden.”
    â€œWhere’s Dad?”
    â€œOutside, in front, raking leaves.” She put my coffee mug and plate in the sink. “He called the airport, by the way, to inquire about your backpack. No one turned it in.”
    â€œBig surprise.”
    I skipped up the stairs two at a time and took a shower and blow-dried my hair. I got dressed and had just finished putting on a dark blue beret when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered right away. “Hello?”
    A quiet female voice answered. “Is this Dr. Starkey?” She sounded young.
    â€œNo, this is her daughter. Who is this?”
    â€œI’m looking for the dentist, Beatrice Annabelle Starkey?”
    Dentist? I thought. “Well, I’m Annabelle, but I’m no dentist. Who is this?”
    â€œYour card says Beatrice Annabelle Starkey, DDS.”
    I laughed. “That’s for Dumpster Diving Specialist. Are you calling from New York?”
    â€œYou’re a detective?”
    I sat on the bed. “Look, you need to tell me who you are and where you got my card…” I stopped. I remembered. I had business cards in my backpack. “My backpack. You found it?”
    She paused. “Yes.”
    â€œI need