The Skeleton Paints a Picture: A Family Skeleton Mystery (#4) by Leigh Perry

Author:Leigh Perry [Perry, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2017-10-09T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

As soon as we were safely inside, Sid said, “Georgia, I told you that you shouldn’t be telling everybody about our investigation! Now the killer knows you’re looking for him.”

“I am not having this conversation. If I hadn’t told Indigo what I did, they wouldn’t have answered our questions.”

“And when Officer Buchanan was here?”

“I didn’t tell her a thing she couldn’t find out elsewhere.”

“You told somebody something!”

“Sid, I realize you’re nervous about somebody finding out about you, but—”

“Coccyx, Georgia, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you! You’re all alone out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not alone. I’ve got you. You are the best bodyguard anybody could ever have. You’re strong, you’re smart, and you never sleep. What more could I ask for?”

“Well, yeah, that’s true.”

“Look, I’m not happy about this, either. And I’m not saying we won’t make sure everything is locked up tight and keep our eyes open, or eye sockets in your case. I just don’t think we should panic.”

“Fine, no panicking. But I’m going to stay on guard tonight.”

I thought he meant he’d just be a little more vigilant than usual, but in fact, he patrolled the house all night long. He wouldn’t even sit down and keep me company when I ate a stuffed baked potato for dinner—just kept roaming from room to room, peering out of the curtains. It was moderately annoying, and I thought about reminding him that he was supposed to be seeing if he could find the second victim of art theft but decided to let him work out his anxiety in his own way. I did a little work, watched a little TV, and listened to him clattering from room to room. The noise made me feel a lot more secure than silence.

I slept well, though not as long as I wanted to, because I had to be up early the next morning.

One item I’d originally thought of as a benefit to teaching at FAD was that I was invited to English departmental meetings. At many of my previous jobs, adjuncts weren’t considered important enough, or perhaps permanent enough, to include. We were lucky if we got informed of departmental policy via memo.

Now, having sat through a number of department meetings at FAD, I was starting to miss the memos. Sure, we sometimes got into a spirited debate over the use of the Oxford comma, but most meetings were so dry that I needed two bottled waters to get through them. It didn’t help that they were first thing Wednesday morning, one of the rare times when none of us taught a class. I’d asked Caroline why we didn’t meet on Fridays—another time when nobody had classes and when we wouldn’t have to get up so early—but her guess was that either Professor Waldron wanted us to be available to students all day, or she wanted to be able to sneak off for wild weekends in New York or Vegas, possibly taking along Mr. Perkins as arm candy.

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