Benni Harper - 07 - Seven Sisters by Earlene Fowler

Author:Earlene Fowler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780425179178
Publisher: Berkley Prime Crime
Published: 2001-04-01T07:24:19+00:00

Was it a real tombstone somewhere? Unfortunately there were lots of cemeteries in San Celina County. It could take weeks to go through all of them looking for a specific tombstone. Narrow it down, that’s what I needed to do.

As I drifted closer to sleep, the black crayon rubbing drew itself in my mind, and the refrain Find the tombstone reverberated like an echo. Where was this tombstone? And whose was it? And the most pressing question of all: What about it would cause someone to kill Giles?

10

GABE AND I spent the next morning, Sunday, laying around reading the newspaper. No one called or came by, and for a little while I could forget everything that had happened in the last week—Sam’s announcement, Lydia’s presence, Giles’s murder, Detective Hudson’s uncomfortable attentions. About noon we met Emory downtown for brunch at a new Mexican restaurant that was getting rave reviews—El Cantina Gallo. Over seafood enchiladas the conversation turned to Elvia’s work habits. As usual, she’d been too busy to join us.

“This is her day off, and she insists on going in for a few hours,” Emory complained over his empty margarita glass.

“That’s just her,” I said, scooping up some guacamole with a fresh, hot tortilla chip. The reviews had been right. “If you’re serious about her, you’d better get used to it.”

“She’s driving me nuts,” Emory moaned, gesturing to the waitress for another margarita.

My cousin was one of those Southern men who knew how to wring every ounce of pleasure out of his leisure time. Though deep inside I knew he and Elvia were right for each other, there were definitely some surface issues that needed work.

“Welcome to the real world, Emory,” Gabe said, laughing. “It only gets worse.”

I elbowed him. “Hey, Friday, we’re trying to encourage, not discourage. Remember?”

While we continued to dispense sage and silly advice to Emory, Elvia’s brother Miguel walked in. He spotted us and waved. Then he spoke briefly to the man at the take-out counter and came over to our table, adjusting the paraphernalia hooked to his heavy leather police belt.

“How’s things going, Miguel?” Gabe asked.

“Fine, Chief. Sunday morning watch is a piece of cake. All the drunks are sleeping it off somewhere. Last night was crazy, though.”

Gabe nodded. “I figured when that new bar next to the Chinese buffet started selling beer for seventy-five cents it would be trouble.”

“Gum Alley is unwalkable today,” Miguel said. “Hope the city gets someone down there to clean it up soon. Puke and piss, that’s all those skippies know how to do.”

“Skippies?” Emory said.

“College students,” Gabe interpreted. “Specifically the drinkers.”

“And to think they’ll be running the treasury when we’re collecting Social Security,” Emory said. “Lord have mercy.”

“Can we change the subject?” I asked, staring down at my enchilada, which was looking decidedly less appetizing.

“Sure,” Miguel said. “Actually, I came over to give you a message, Benni.”

“Me?” I said.

“Tell Dove no.”

I gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Just what I said. Tell her no. Absolutely not. No way.”

“What?”

“Just tell her.”

The man at the take-out counter called out his name.

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