The Consequence of Murder by Adams Nene

Author:Adams, Nene [Adams, Nene]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Veronica continued before Mackenzie had a chance to voice her surprise. “I mean, Annabel’s sort of an aunt, I think, or something like that. My mother’s got Coffin relations, but as far as I can tell, Annabel’s people pretty much stuck around Mitford County. My mother’s folks are all over the place. Last night I got hold of Mémé Faillard in Louisiana, who used to be a Coffin before she married Great-Uncle Oscar. She told me I’m related to Annabel through my father’s second cousin, though I’m not quite sure how. It’s complicated.”

“Relatives usually are,” Mackenzie said, recalling the near- impenetrable Gordian knots of relationships on her own family tree. Go back far enough, she thought, and almost everybody you meet is related to you somehow.

The cabinet door opened and banged shut, a reminder of Annabel’s presence.

“Do you see her?” Veronica asked.

“Yes and no. If I look straight at her, I don’t see anything. But when I sort of focus sideways, or above her head, I see her sometimes. Not always. Sometimes, I feel a chill or catch flashes of silver and gray light when she’s around.”

“Like a black-and-white movie?”

“Not exactly.” Trying to describe the indescribable was frustrating. Mackenzie picked up the empty bowls and went to the sink, where she turned on the tap, retrieved a plastic washbasin from the cabinet below and added dishwashing liquid. “The few times I’ve actually had a good look at her, she’s black, silver and gray, but sharper than an old film,” she said over the sound of water gushing from the faucet. “And foggier, too. Blurry, but sharp. Damn it, I know I’m not making sense—”

Veronica stopped her with a gesture. “That’s okay, Mac. I understand what you’re getting at. You know, what’s interesting is how our experiences are so different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see Annabel in color.”

Mackenzie’s jaw dropped. “No shit! How’d that happen?”

“Beats me. It’s always been that way.” Veronica rose from the table and joined her at the sink. “You wash, I’ll dry,” she said, grabbing a dishtowel from the rack.

Up to her wrists in hot soapy water, Mackenzie didn’t argue, although her mother would have been horrified by the idea of a guest doing the dishes. “Thanks.”

They worked in comfortable silence. The cutlery had been washed, dried and put away when Veronica said, “According to Doc Hightower’s report, Annabel died from a cerebral hemorrhage caused by a single blow to the back of her head with an object consistent with a pipe. The angle of the blow suggests the killer wasn’t much taller than her. The working theory is that she was killed on or about the same time she disappeared in nineteen fifty-seven, but we don’t know who did it or why.”

The cabinet door banged twice.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Veronica went on, “but we have no witnesses, no evidence and no forensics apart from the body itself.”

Mackenzie wasn’t sure if Veronica was talking to the ghost or her. “What about the charm bracelet? Maynard told me that’s how y’all identified her.

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