《A Dangerous Woman (A Fay Cunningham Mystery-Book 1)》Chapter Forty-Three

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Chapter Forty-Three

I eyed the glove compartment for longer than I care to say before I remembered the cigarettes were no longer in there. Without them there, the urge for one passed quicker than on previous occasions. But something in the way of food to nibble on while I waited for Mitch to return home would have made the wait more bearable.

No smokes, no food, meant I had to settle for something much less soothing to my jittery nerves. I pulled down the visor and reached for the pen clipped fast to a corner. I went from twirling it through my fingers to chewing on the end of it while I played the question and answer game inside my head.

I was positive Angel set me up to take the fall for Ethel's murder. I also had myself talked into believing she was the one who committed the heinous act. What I couldn't figure out was why she had done it. Mitch may have something with his theory that she wanted Joe all to herself. But that meant she'd have to start knocking off people regularly. I admit Joe had become sort of a recluse the last couple of years since his retirement, but there were a number of people who remained in his circle of friends. I was probably closest to him next to Ethel. Then there was Alicia-

My God, no. Was it possible? Did Angel have something to do with my daughter's sudden disappearance? Was this elopement thing just a smoke screen? "You go near my daughter and I'll strangle you with my bare hands," I vowed to the image of Angel that loomed in my thoughts.

The fingers and mouth gave the pen one heck of a workout before my anger was brought down to a level that made me see I had let the imagination get the best of me. It was Alicia's voice I heard on my answering machine, after all. It was Alicia who said she couldn't come home this weekend because she was getting married.

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By the time I calmed myself down with this piece of analysis, a set of headlights flashed into the car. For a minute there, fear gripped me by the throat. What if it was the police? They found my hiding place and had come to haul me off to jail. Or worse yet, what if it was Angel, come to do me in like she had Ethel?

There was still enough light in the day for me to see it was Mitch's pint-sized truck pulling in next to my Lincoln.

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