Brothers in Blood by DC Brod

Author:DC Brod [Brod, D. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-3322-8
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 1993-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

MAYBE MARGARET HEBRON had a real good reason for investing in a stud horse, but when I pulled up to her house, I couldn’t help wonder why she didn’t spend the money on some fix-up work. She lived near downtown Foxport in a white two-story that, fifty years ago, had probably been a handsome home. Now, the paint was peeling, though not quite to the eyesore point, and the green shutters were ragged and a couple were at odd angles. Hanging from the door was a straw wreath with a large blue bow with the words “Welcome Friend” printed on its ends. We’ll see.

The woman who answered the door was short and plump with pale red hair that was so thin you could see her scalp through it. She kept the storm door closed until I explained I was working for Jubal Tanner, hesitated a moment longer, then held it open for me. Inside, the hardwood flooring in the entryway was polished to a gloss. As she led me into the living room, I noticed she walked with a stiffness that suggested arthritis.

“Claude mentioned that Jubal had hired someone to help him. I was so glad to hear that, though I can’t imagine what you’d want with me.”

The furniture in the living room was situated around a slightly threadbare Persian carpet. The couch was old and comfortable, the kind you sink into. A cut-glass dish of pecans sat in the center of the coffee table. I wonder how people can put morsels out for drop-in guests and not clean the bowl out themselves within a day. Guess it takes more self-discipline than I’ve got. I helped myself to one of the pecans.

“Can I get you some iced tea? I know it’s a bit early in the season for most people, but personally I drink it all year around. Except around Christmas. Then it’s eggnog.” She giggled and patted her rounded stomach. “It takes me the rest of the year to recover from the holidays.”

I smiled. “Me too,” then added, “Iced tea sounds great.”

The floorboards creaked as she moved into the kitchen.

I heard a groan nearby and noticed for the first time a dog curled up in an overstuffed chair. He seemed to be waking up from a rather pleasant dream, stretching his legs and yawning. I figured him to be some kind of mixed terrier breed and noticed as he gazed at me, peering over his shoulder from his prone position, that his beard was mostly white. He wagged his tail slowly, and I moved over and held my hand out to him. He sniffed it without much interest and yawned again.

“I see you’ve met Frisky.” Margaret set a tray with two tall glasses on the coffee table. “He’s quite old. About all he does anymore is sleep. Do you have a dog?”

“Yeah,” I returned to the couch. “A border collie.” I helped myself to the iced tea.

“Oh, they’re wonderful dogs, I understand.”

I swallowed. “Yeah, they are.”

She had settled into an easy chair with lace doilies pinned to its arms.

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