The Troubled Man: A Q.C. Davis Mystery by Lisa M. Lilly

Author:Lisa M. Lilly [Lilly, Lisa M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spiny Woman LLC
Published: 2020-12-16T22:00:00+00:00

30

My mouth dropped open. It took me a second to recover. “You want me to investigate the real – the original – Q.C.’s death?”

“She’s your family. It’s like you’ve forgotten her.”

“I can hardly forget her, Mom. You gave me her name.”

“A name you don’t use.” She pointed her straw toward me. “All I hear from you is Quille Quille Quille Quille.”

Ty gave me an apologetic look.

“I prefer Quille. Which is still her name, by the way.”

It wasn’t a new conversation for us, despite my mother acting like it was. But her wanting me to investigate was new. And curious. I’d grown up hearing tales of the amazing and fabulously talented Q.C. Davis, but what little I knew about the kidnapping and her death came from my Gram.

The waiter set our desserts down. A brownie a la mode for Ty and me, cheesecake for my dad, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce for my mother.

My mother dipped her spoon into the caramel sauce, skimming it off the top of the ice cream. “All I want is for you to show a little concern for your sister. Maybe look into her death, rather than doing these investigations for other people.”

“Investigate – really?”

I’m not a gambler. I work too hard for my money to find losing it fun. But before this conversation, given the chance, I would have bet my monthly mortgage payment that my mother had no idea I helped uncover the truth behind Marco’s death, found a missing college student last year, or caught the perpetrator of a vehicular homicide.

Dad placed his hand over my mother’s. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve talked about this.”

Now my dad had shocked me. I stared at him. “You have?”

“I don’t want you looking for a killer,” he said.

“He’s probably dead,” my mother said. “All I want is answers. Peace. No one ever looked into anyone but us. How could they find the truth?”

The ice cream on my brownie had melted all over the plate, and I hadn’t touched it. “But the FBI took the focus off you, didn’t they?”

“And got nowhere,” my mother said.

“It was too late.” My dad rubbed his forehead. “At least I think so. They only broadened the investigation after that other poor girl was found and they couldn’t link it to us. That’s when they stopped seeing us as the main suspects. But not before.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ty said. “That had to be awful.”

My mother’s fingers twirled a section of her long, straight hair. “So why haven’t you ever tried to find the truth?”

“It never crossed my mind you wanted me to,” I said.

“We don’t,” Dad said.

“You could try,” my mother said.

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