All Fixed Up by Linda Grimes Read Free Book Online Page B

physically exhausting—I really needed some shut-eye.
    I stared at the phone, debating whether I could get away with ignoring it.
    Crash! “Answer your phone!”
    I yawned until my jaw cracked. Oh, hell. She’d keep trying every five minutes until she got through. Mom was nothing if not persistent. I reached for the phone.
    â€œHey, Mom. Wow, great news, huh?” I said, thinking, in my groggy state, a preempt would be a good idea. Maybe if Mom found out I already knew, she’d hang up fast and call someone who didn’t. “Welp, gotta run—”
    Yes, I know I told Thomas not to let on they’d told me first. Trust me, all of us Halligan siblings are accustomed to the view from under the bus. It’s a survival mechanism that kicks in when dealing with our mother. Thomas would no doubt claim I’d wheedled the news out of Laura. Since Laura is a saint in Mom’s eyes, she wouldn’t get in trouble over it. So really it wasn’t as much of a betrayal as it might appear.
    â€œCiel Colleen Halligan, how could you say such a thing? It’s terrible news. And how did you hear about it? I just found out myself.”
    â€œUm, Thomas told me,” I said, scrubbing my face with one hand, trying to chase away the residual sleepiness. Regardless of Laura’s immunity from Mom’s wrath, she hadn’t been in the family long enough for me to throw her under the bus. Besides, sisterly solidarity. “I’ve never heard him so happy,” I added. “Wait a second—why aren’t you happy? You’re supposed to be thrilled.”
    â€œYou think I’m some sort of monster?”
    â€œOf course not,” I said. “I would never think—”
    â€œAnd how did Thomas find out?”
    â€œWell, how do you think? Laura told him.”
    â€œLaura? Why on Earth would she—oh, my God! The CIA is involved?”
    Okay, what the hell was going on? “Mom, let me talk to Laura for a second, okay?”
    â€œWhy would Laura be here? She’s working, and so is Thomas.”
    Uh-oh . “Mom, what did you call to tell me?”
    A heavy sigh came through the line. Mom composing herself. “It’s Aunt Helen. She’s dead.”
    Crap. A picture of Aunt Helen popped into my head and gave my heart a squeeze. Elderly, frail, and unable to sustain a decent aura for longer than fifteen minutes at a time anymore. We all loved her dearly.
    I took a breath and leavened my voice with a hefty dose of sympathy. “I’m so sorry. It’s not entirely unexpected, though, is it? Given her age and all,” I said.
    â€œShe was murdered.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSomebody used a stun gun on her in Central Park, then stabbed her while she was still twitching.”
    Thanks for the visual, Mom. “What kind of fucking sicko does that?”
    It was a measure of how upset I was that I let “fucking” slip out while talking to my mother. It was a measure of how upset she was that she let it pass without a comment about God punishing me right away.
    â€œHow could the police know such a gruesome detail anyway?” I added rapidly, in case she was only pausing to frame an adequate threat of heavenly retribution.
    â€œThere was a witness. He was too far away to get a good look at the guy’s face, but he definitely saw the stun gun, and then the stabbing. Which I wouldn’t know, except Junie Sorensen volunteers at the library where the wife of the police officer who was first on the scene works. Oh, God, Ciel, what is the world coming to when a harmless little old lady can’t even take a walk—in the middle of the day!—in Central Park?”
    I knew she didn’t expect an answer. “How’s Dad taking it?” Aunt Helen had been like a second mother to him when he was a kid.
    Mom switched gears from impending hysteria to deep sadness with a heavy sigh. “You know your father.