River Ghosts by Robb B.R

Author:Robb, B.R. [Robb, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-05T03:00:00+00:00

26

At the threshold to the kitchen, Sydney remarks, “Cleaner than mine, although that’s not necessarily a compliment.”

No marks on the jamb.

“Please leave the house,” I say. “You should respect my wishes.”

“You’ve asked a lot from me.” As if that’s reason enough, she continues on. She passes through the hall running by a bedroom and a den. She pauses along the way at pictures on the wall. In particular at a photo of Momma and Poppa side by side on the swings; Momma large weeks before my birth, Poppa with a wrench in his hand after tightening the last bolt on the swing set. She’s turned to kiss him, lips puckered into a tight circle against his cheek. “Your father was a handsome man,” she says. “Like you. Although you get your tight-ass smile from your mother.”

Hand on my holster belt, I push by her to check the den, bedroom, and living room. No one else is present, nothing disturbed. Sydney’s preoccupied with the wealth of shelving packed full of Momma’s books. “You’ve read all these?”

“Most,” I say, and notice on the bottom shelf, the tilting of one title against another. A space caused by a missing book.

“Impressive. Are you a college boy?”

“Community college. An associate’s degree in criminal justice. There wasn’t enough money left in the trust fund for anything more after I bought the house.”

“What possessed you to buy it, you know, after everything?

“Everybody asks me about the house.”

“Is that your answer? No answer at all, like the mysterious case of the vanishing Charlie Watts?”

“Please,” I say. “You need to leave.” I listen for an invading sound. A breath, a creak beneath a step.

“You keep it neat. I suppose out of respect.” She turns back toward the hallway, but her stare lingers on my face. “May I go upstairs?”

“No.”

Sydney smiles, her eyes ablaze. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything. Do you have to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“You can’t go upstairs.”

She returns to the living room. Frowns at the sag in the recliner facing the TV. “Guess I should’ve said I needed to use the bathroom.”

“Sydney, you should leave now.”

“You started your sentence with my name. Are you swearing at me?”

“You could take it that way.”

“No unusual smells, rotting flesh, chemicals, or otherwise. You’re a strange man, but there’s nothing to call the police or mental health center about.” A familiar kiss on my cheek, what I’ve replayed so often in my mind. “I’m not necessarily believing you over DNA,” she says. “But you have one month less one day before I go with a story. It’ll either be about a man unable to accept the truth, or a man who kicked the crap out of DNA forensics.”

Standing near the front door, she examines the room a final time. Watches me by the dining room table, suddenly quiet. “Is that the table?”

“No.”

“What happened to the table?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Sure you do. You kept it, sold it, or burned it.” She stops chiding me, brings her hands to her chest the moment she focuses on the floor.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.