Biggie and the Quincy Ghost by Bell Nancy

Author:Bell, Nancy
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-07T05:00:00+00:00

11

The guests started arriving at twelve. The bride wasn’t even a girl. She was an old gray-headed lady, and her new husband had a bald head and a red face and talked real loud. Miss Mary Ann, who had come out of her room wearing a pink lace dress, greeted them at the door and led them out to the courtyard where they all made a big deal about how pretty everything looked. Rosebud and I watched through the French doors while they toasted the bride and groom. After that, the bride tossed her wedding bouquet over her head. I like to died when two of the women guests butted their heads together and fell on top of each other trying to get their hands on the thing. One large lady’s dress flew over her head so high you could see her underpants. I looked at Rosebud to see if he’d seen, and it was pretty clear he had, because he was doubled over laughing into his blue bandanna handkerchief. I slapped my hands over my mouth to keep the giggles in, and took off for Biggie’s room to tell her what she’d missed.

I found her sitting on her bed with the contents of Annabeth’s purse dumped out on the pink coverlet. I took a seat on the other side of the bed and watched while she picked up a little silk bag with a drawstring tie and pulled the top open. She put her fingers inside and pulled out a gold lipstick, a plastic powder compact, and a little vial of perfume, the kind they give away at department stores. Biggie opened the perfume and smelled it, then made a face. Next, she opened Annabeth’s billfold and took everything out. “Let’s see,” she said, “according to this, she was eighteen years old in May. She was five-foot-two and weighed ninety-eight pounds.”

“About your size, Biggie.” I picked up the empty purse and began tossing it up and catching it.

“Don’t do that. Nope, I weigh a hundred and twelve. Here’s a library card, a credit card from Penney’s, and someone’s business card.” She held it out as far as she could and squinted at it. “Hmm, Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation, and there’s a local address and phone number.” She turned the card over. “Someone’s written a date and time on the back. Tomorrow at 10:00 A.M. Wonder why she was carrying that around.”

“I don’t know, Biggie.” I squinted at the card. “I reckon she might have had an appointment for that time.”

“Most likely—and I’m going to have to find out why. Well, hand me the purse. We might as well put these things back.” She looked at her watch. “My soul, it’s nearly two. I’m hungry enough to eat fried buzzard.”

I picked up the purse to hand it back to Biggie, and when I did, I heard a rustling sound, like paper. I opened it up and felt something between the silk lining and the leather outside. “Biggie, there’s something in here.

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