A Fool & His Honey by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Horror & Ghost Stories
Published: 2010-05-17T19:42:07.653000+00:00

With Hayden asleep, we were able to explore the house a little more thoroughly. I opened cabinets and drawers, feeling like the worst kind of snoop, since Regina had arranged all these things in her own system. But I couldn’t see a way around it. We’d be here for at least a few days, and we might as well use what was there; it was Martin’s house, after all, and Regina’s child was with us. Well, a child, maybe Regina’s.

Craig and Regina’s belongings fell into two categories, like most young married couples‘. They had old things given them by relatives and friends who no longer wanted them, like the couch and chair in the living room and some rather battered pots and pans; and they had brand spanking new things they’d gotten for wedding presents. Regina’s engraved thank you notes were still sitting underneath an address book in the kitchen drawer that held the phone book and quick-phone list. While Martin wandered around checking out the renovation job, and probably reminiscing, I located kitchen things I might need, figured out the stove, and started lunch. Corinth didn’t have much in the way of restaurants, and I didn’t feel like coping with Hayden in a public place again. Besides, I like to cook, especially when no one else is in the kitchen. I planned a large meal since we’d missed breakfast. When Martin saw me deboning chicken breasts, he pulled on his coat and scarf and went outside to take a walk. He returned with the welcome news that in case we needed it, there was a rack of firewood that looked dry.

I thought about Darius Quattermain when Martin mentioned the firewood. I wondered if he was all right, if he would ever feel like delivering wood to my house again. Maybe no one had told him he’d stripped in front of me, but he might remember all on his own. I didn’t know what drug he’d taken, or what its aftereffects would be. As I waited for the cooking oil to heat in the electric skillet, I wondered what kind of person would drug another; it was a kind of poisoning, wasn’t it? Poisoners were supposed to be sly and patient, I recalled. Anyone could pick up a baseball bat and swing it out of frustration. Well, maybe not anyone, but many people. I was sure the number of potential poisoners in the population must be much lower.

“What are you thinking of?” Martin asked, and I jumped, dropping the chicken breast into the hot oil, which popped me. When he’d apologized and I’d taken my hand out from under the cold running water, I said, “I was just thinking about Darius.”

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“You were shaking your head, raising your eyebrows in this kind of amazed look, and got this ew expression on your face.”

I shook my head, feeling silly. I didn’t want to explain my train of thought to Martin. A knock at the front door made me jump again.

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