Casket Case by Fran Rizer Read Free Book Online Page B

Jane push it over to the shoulder. Lean in and steer with your right hand. You’ve seen me do it.” I must have been more upset than I realized. I should’ve thought of doing that. Frank should not have had to give directions. At various times in my life, I’d seen Daddy and each of my brothers have to push cars and trucks because of dead batteries or other problems.
    “Okay,” I agreed, then thought about the possibility that the shooter might have disabled my car. I’d read about men who would do that so a woman would be at their mercy when they stopped to “help.” “Frank, we’re going to the pier. Come get us from there. We’ll see you in half an hour or so.” When I explained to Jane, she agreed that leaving the car and waiting for Frank somewhere crowded with other people sounded like a good idea.
    Jane and I managed to push the car over to the edge of the road and walked back to the pier. I called the Jade County Sheriff’s Department and reported the dead seagull and exploded watermelon. The dispatcher informed me that Hunting Island wasn’t in Jade County, but he’d relay the report to the proper authorities. Jane and I strolled out over the water and talked with some folks who were fishing. Nothing was biting.
    “Hey, Jane,” I heard my brother shout. We met him at the steps to the pier. Frank is the youngest boy, only two years older than I am. He’d not only made it to the beach from Daddy’s house in record time, he must have showered and changed before he came. He wore a spiffy black T-shirt with “Mama Said” printed on the chest in large white letters and “Americana Music” under it in smaller print. His jeans were cleaner than usual.
    “Hi, Jane,” he said as though I were invisible. “I saw the Mustang on the way in. I think the best thing is for me to hook it up to Pa’s truck and tow it to the house. For the car to stop like Callie said, it’s probably got a broken belt, and I don’t have a replacement with me.”
    Daddy’s truck is a Ford F-350 diesel with a rear seat that he uses for storage. In other words, it stays full of “stuff.” Frank held the door for me to climb in the back, then assisted Jane to the front seat like a gentleman.
    Of my five brothers, the only one who is consistently mannerly is my oldest. John is thirteen years older than I am, and he was as socially unacceptable as the others until he married Miriam. She trained him well, and now he’s a sweetheart, living in Atlanta, working for her rich father.
    “How have you been, Jane?” Frank asked as we rode.
    “Not as well as I’d like,” she said.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Pearl White is selling her property. I have to move, and I don’t have the money to hire a moving company, plus it will be difficult to pack my things so that I can put everything where it belongs in the new place. Besides, the woman buying the property is already a real pain and I want out of there as soon as possible.”
    “Got any idea where you’ll be moving?” Frank asked. Then, without giving her a chance to respond, he offered, “I’m sure Pa would let you stay with us if you need some place.”
    Puh-leeze. Jane’s been my friend for years. She’s been in and out of Daddy’s house thousands of times and knows all my brothers. As a child, she loved coming home with me, but there’s no way she’d ever stay with the Parrish men now that we’re all grown.
    “If Jane needs somewhere, she can stay with me,” I said.
    “But it was sweet of you to offer, Frank,” Jane cooed, just like a Magnolia Mouth. She leaned over toward him and breathed, “ Ooooh , you smell so good.” At times in the past, I’d wondered if Frank might have a crush on Jane. It sounded like she knew he did. Then again, she may have been practicing her Roxanne on that last sentence.
    Anxiety. It struck me like that bullet hit the watermelon. What if some thief had disabled the Mustang to make Jane and me get out of the way, leaving my car