“Were you close?”
“Not really.” Not at all.
“It’s seems your brother’s plan to profit from the deaths of others didn’t end after he tried to kill Daytona.”
Oh God. What now? “What are you saying? His obituary said Uncle Ned died of natural causes.”
“Only because no one felt the need to perform an autopsy. And since he was cremated, there’s no body to exhume and test now.” Walter’s shoulders sagged, and shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes. “Guess who benefitted from his life insurance policy?”
Chapter Twenty-three
What a shitty couple of weeks. Brother tried to kill him, possibly killed an uncle for money, Bo packed and left without goodbye sex, Walter banished Lucky from the office until the doctor cleared him to return to work, and now this.
Lucky stared down at the back deck and a suspiciously squirrel-shaped bundle of fur. Moose’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and if his tail wagged any harder the mutt might get whiplash.
“Did you do that?” Lucky pointed at Moose’s kill.
Wag, wag, wag.Damn, hard to stay mad at a pooch with an “I saved you from a dangerous beast” vibe going on.
Lucky took care of the dead squirrel, let the unrepentant Moose in, and flopped down on the couch to watch some TV. Nothing on this channel. Nothing on the next either. Or the next.
Nope. Not one of those crime-solving shows.Click.Real surgeries? Oh,hellno.
He paced, cleaned the kitchen, took out the trash.
What kind of assignment had the Richmond office given Bo? Was he in danger?
Bo worked for the SNB. Of course he was in danger.
Undercover. No calls and no telling when they’d see each other again.
Lucky plopped down on the couch. Life couldn’t get any worse.
The cat hopped up on the couch.
And dropped a dead mouse on Lucky’s lap.
***
“How are you, Mama?” Lucky sat on the living room couch, staring out the sliding glass doors at a rainy June day.
“Doing as good as I can. Charlotte’s boys are here now, helping out pretty good for two young’uns not raised in the country.”
“If you need me to…”
“Richmond, you’ve gone above and beyond already, and just had surgery. Clarence is getting better slowly, and if you’re going through the same thing, rest, get better.”
“But I want to be there.” If Lucky closed his eyes, his mother’s kitchen filled his memory, and if he tried real hard he might catch a whiff of bacon or blackberry jam.
“I know you do, son.” Mama held something back.
“You haven’t told Daddy, have you?”
Silence, then, “The time isn’t right yet. He’s still recovering, and then what with Bristol and all, and the cops keeping us quiet about his death.”
Calling home didn’t soothe Lucky’s soul like he’d hoped. “Mama, I want to see him again.”
“And you will. Give it more time.”
