Pick Your Poison by Leann Sweeney Read Free Book Online

insurance policy,” I said.
    The weather-worn skin over her prominent cheek-bones took on color. “He told you about that, did he? Bet he didn’t mention how Ben only bought that insurance to help my first husband out. We were losing our shirt with the farm and started selling policies on the side. So Ben—and plenty of others, I might add—bought insurance he didn’t even need. And that was the Ben Grayson I knew.” She nodded, her mouth drawn into a stubborn pucker. “He was never no wife killer. Not never.” Her chin quivered and she fought back tears, then said, “It’s okay, Miss Rose. Don’t look so worried. I’m all right.”
    “Please, call me Abby.” I reached across and touched one thin arm. “I didn’t come here to upset you. I want to help. How can I do that?”
    “You could help me bring him home so I can put him to rest. I never been to Houston. Wouldn’t know where to start if I had to go there and . . . find him.”
    “I’ll arrange everything. You won’t have to leave your home.”
    “You’d do that for a stranger?”
    “It’s the least I can do.”
    She studied my face, then said, “You’re one fine lady, Miss Abby. Even if you do come from the city.”
    I smiled. “I take that as a high compliment. I have one more question. Ben was using the name Garrison while he worked for me. Why did he change his name?”
    She blinked her red-rimmed eyes several times, looking as if she’d put a bucket down a well and brought up Coke instead of water. “He was using some other name? He never said a word about that.”
    “When did you speak to him last?”
    “About a week ago. He called, said he was making progress. Sounded happier than I think I can ever remember.”
    “Making progress? On what?”
    “Well, I assumed on finding out who killed Cloris. That’s why he went to Houston in the first place. He’s been trying to find the person who killed her ever since she died. Sometimes he’d follow a lead for weeks and come back with nothing. But this last time was different. He’s been gone long on three months.”
    I leaned back in the chair, questions flying through my brain like gnats. “I-I guess I assumed Ben came to Houston to find work.”
    “Oh, no, Miss Abby. We had plenty of money since the insurance finally paid him what they owed—with interest, I might add.”
    So Ben had ended up at my house to search for the truth about his wife’s murder. What clue had led him to us? Had he found the proof to clear his name? And was he killed because of what he’d learned?
    I stood. “You’ve been so helpful, Mrs. Grayson. I won’t keep you any longer.”
    “You’ve gone white as flour, miss. You sure you’re all right?”
    “Well, I’m not sure I understand why he ended up working for my sister and me, that’s all.”
    “Could be a simple explanation, Miss Abby. Ben’s been a workingman all his life. Could hardly think straight if he wasn’t using his hands. Can’t see him holin’ up in some hotel while he was in the city. That woulda never suited him. Carpentry was his first love, but he liked working with the earth, too. My guess is he took the job to keep busy while he looked for the killer.”
    “Maybe,” I said, not sure I bought this explanation.
    Ruth Grayson and I exchanged phone numbers, and I promised again that I’d move Ben’s body back to Shade for burial as soon as the police gave me the okay.
    After we said our good-byes, I walked out into the late-afternoon heat, slid behind the wheel of my Camry, and pulled onto the dirt drive that led to the main road.
    A cloud of dust signaled the approach of another vehicle, and with the road barely wide enough for my car, I wasn’t sure I could squeeze over without side-swiping the rail fence. I started to back up, but then recognized the car and braked.
    Willis’s Mercedes lurched to a halt beside me, and he rolled down his window.
    I did the same and tried to sound pleasant despite my irritation. “Hi,