THE MOM ZONE MYSTERIES
By Sara Rosett
MOVING IS MURDER
STAYING HOME IS A KILLER
Staying Home Is a Killer
Sara Rosett
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
To Edna, Faye, and Marguerite
The three best grandmothers a girl could have.
Frost Fest
February 19–26
Dreams Take Flight
Beat the winter doldrums at the Vernon, Washington, twelfth annual Frost Fest celebration This year Frost Fest salutes Vernon’s rich aviation history
EXHIBIT: Retrospective of Flight in Vernon Historic photos and memorabilia capture the role men and women from Greenly AFB played in aviation from WWII to the present
ART SHOW: local artists’ work featured in downtown galleries
STUDENT ART SHOW: Artwork from Vernon public school students displayed throughout the Sky Mall and Sky Walk
Free hot chocolate Discounted ice-skating at Memorial Plaza Pond Sales at downtown retailers and restaurants
Chapter One
As soon as I opened the door to the 52nd Air Refueling Squadron I knew something was off. Penny Follette held open the inner door at the top of the incline, her smile radiating like a beacon in the dim light.
Penny didn’t radiate. In fact, she was usually unnoticeable. “Penny, are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” Penny said as frigid wind sliced across the back of my neck before the squadron’s outer door thudded shut. I lurched up the steep hallway to the squadron. The incline was a safety feature left over from the Cold War. The squadron, located in the old alert facility at Greenly Air Force Base in eastern Washington State, had once housed rotating shifts of aircrews ready to respond to nuclear threats. I guess the steep walkways had been designed to slow down Communists raiding the building. They certainly slowed me down.
And I’m not that fast to begin with since I lug a small arsenal of toys, diapers, wipes, and snack food in a diaper bag, not to mention my twenty-month-old daughter, Livvy.
I squeezed through the inner door, dropped the diaper bag and my purse, a fuchsia Belen Echandia shoulder bag I’d snapped up from eBay, at my feet.
I’ll admit it—I’m a bagoholic. I’m addicted to purses. They’re my one indulgence. Well, that’s not strictly true because I indulge in chocolate, too. But that’s it. Only two indulgences. My fuchsia bag provided a nice bright spot on an otherwise dreary day, just like my purses provided the only stylish accent in my typical Mommy ensemble of sweaters, sweatshirts, jeans, and snow boots. I was too tired to coordinate outfits. All I could manage right now were purses with panache. Later, maybe when Livvy went to kindergarten, I’d try to accessorize. I shifted Livvy to my other arm. She wiggled and said, “Pen! Pen!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again.
Penny was practically glowing. She pushed her dull brown braid over her shoulder and reached for Livvy. “Hello there, little Livvy,” she murmured. Even in the dim hall, in her droopy gray sweater and sagging broomstick skirt, Penny looked luminous. “I’m wonderful.” Her smile’s wattage edged up another notch. “The most amazing thing has happened. I’m dying to tell you.” She sighed, “But I can’t. I promised.”
She handed Livvy back. Her petite size forced her to look up at me as she grinned mischievously. “I’ll call you this afternoon and tell you.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. In the year and a half that I’d known her, I’d never seen Penny look mischievous. And I’d gotten to know her pretty well since Penny and her husband, Will, another pilot in the same squadron as my husband, lived down the street from me. She was one of my most dependable babysitters for Livvy.
She slung her scuffed backpack off her shoulder and pulled a small gold bag out of a webbed side pocket. A crossword puzzle book fell from the pocket to the floor. “Here. Won’t be eating these anymore.” She shoved the gold bag at me, then picked up the book and put it away. “You take them. Then I won’t be tempted.” The curly font on the bag read Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans.
I tried to give them back. “I don’t even like coffee. You love coffee.” My hands were full enough with Livvy squirming, but I knew better than to set her down. She’d motor away around a corner and I’d have to chase her down.
Penny continued to paw around in her bag. “I don’t want them. Throw them away if you don’t like them.”
“I’ll drop them off at Mitch’s office. Someone will eat them.”
Penny paused in her search of her backpack. “There is one thing I need to talk to you about.” Her face still glowed, but her brown eyes were serious. “The thing last year.” She hesitated, tucked a strand of wiry hair back into her braid. “Well. You figured it out.”
I’d been embroiled in a search for a murderer in the squadron. “I didn’t really…” I said.
“Yes, you did. You knew something was wrong and didn’t let it go. I think I need someone to—”
The outer set of doors clanged open. Icy air gusted up the incline and snaked through the cracks under the inner doors. We shifted to make room. Penny stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the flight crew laboring up the incline. Livvy went still in my arms, her attention on the heavy tread and voices that echoed up the vaultlike incline. Penny’s face shuttered. She zipped her backpack, heaved it up on her shoulder.
I blinked at her abrupt change. Penny was back in her usual lurk mode, fading into the wallpaper. Captain Zeke Peters, the pilot, led the crew. His tall figure filled the doorway as he said, “Come on. I’ve got to be out of here in an hour.”
The next guy, Staff Sergeant Rory Tyler, strolled through the door. “She’s not going