Poison Flowers by Nat Burns Read Free Book Online Page B

her. Then that Irish temper took over and once again words spewed from her before she could think about them.
    “What is your problem, anyway? Is your life so precious that you have to keep it under lock and key? I don’t deserve this kind of crap from you. I’m just trying to do my job. Some of us don’t have fancy businesses of our own and actually have to do what others tell them to, you know.”
    She took a deep breath and raged on. “Besides, if I were a hard-core investigative reporter, you’d be shaking in your shoes right about now ’cause I wouldn’t give up. I’d be like a hyena tracking a gazelle going after your butt, until I learned everything there was to learn about you with or without your help. How would you like that? Huh? Are there any skeletons in your closet, Miss Wood?”
    Marya angrily flipped open the lid of her notebook and poised her pen above the page. “You want to talk now? No? You’d rather I did the work for you? I’ve been wanting to do a little investigative journalism anyway.”
    They glared at one another as Marya tried to get her breathing under control. As Marya watched Master Wood, her eyes and face feeling hard as flint, she saw Master Wood’s gaze change. It softened in a subtle way; maybe there was sadness there. But if it was sadness, there was a steel edge to it, as her gaze remained locked with Marya’s. Abruptly, without changing her demeanor in the slightest, she turned and strode through the side door, leaving Marya standing alone in the lobby.

Chapter Eleven
     
    Mama found the Silvestres’ cat right off. I should have known.
    She was standing on the porch when I drove up, her white dress blinding bright in the high beams of my headlights. The dead cat, mauled and partially skinned, dangled from one hand.
    I closed the car door quietly and approached her. I tilted my head down, hoping she could sense how sorry I was. Only I knew it was not for the cat, of course, but because she’d found it.
    “Well,” she began, eying me harshly in the twilight dimness. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
    I scrubbed my palms along the front of my T-shirt, in my imagination again feeling the cat’s warm blood there on my stomach.
    “It pestered me, Mama. Every night when the windows were open it would come crawl in bed with me, bringing its fleas and God-all knows what else. The other night I just couldn’t do it anymore.” I hung my head again.
    “And it’s just too damn hot to shut the window, is that it?” she asked, swinging the cat slowly to and fro.
    I was hopeful for a brief moment but realized she was just setting me up. No way was I going to get away with this one.
    “No, Mama, I shoulda shut it.”
    Silence fell between us for a long beat. I glanced up to see a deeply thoughtful look on her face.
    “What’re you thinking, Mama?” I asked, keeping my voice low and soft.
    She was suddenly all business. “Don’t you worry none about that, child.” She held the cat toward me.
    “You need to do something about this, though, and don’t put it back in the root cellar. Don’t you know it’ll start stinkin’ to high heaven, you leave it there? Use some sense, now, pay attention.”
    “Yes, Mama,” I replied, taking the cat from her. I waited for the slap that never came and a small smile nibbled its way across my lips. I carried the cat away, off toward the woods.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Dorry had had just about enough. The constant calls and messages were too much. Izzie never said much in the messages she left in her voice mail box, just a simple “Call me, please. It’s important.” That somehow made it worse. If it had been something easy or even a heartfelt “I miss you, Dorry,” it would have been okay. This, this had to be something else.
    Dorry rose and closed the door to her office, effectively shutting out the slams and chi calls of her belts and students. She was calling from her office because she knew there was a chance she would be