Sing It to Her Bones by Marcia Talley Read Free Book Online

said about finding the body.
    “The Nicholses moved to Florida years ago, Dennis. Long before I came home.” She rested an elbow on the table and stirred her tea absentmindedly while holding the spoon loosely between her thumb andforefinger. “If the body turns out to be that of the Dunbar girl, though, I realize I must have been here when … whoever … dumped her in the well. It gives me the creeps.”
    Connie licked her spoon, then waved it in the general direction of the window. “You can see that although we share a fence, I’m not exactly within sight and hearing distance of that house.”
    Dennis studied her, his greenish brown eyes intent. “Have you seen anything recently? Trucks or cars going by? People who don’t live here or have business out here?”
    “Uh-uh.”
    “Someone may have attempted to repair that cracked cistern cover or come back to check on the body, just to make sure it stayed hidden.”
    “No, nothing like that, Dennis.” She poured more hot water into his cup. “I’m not sure I would have noticed anyway. I’m usually engrossed in my work.”
    Dennis stood, pushing his chair back with his knees. In three long strides he covered the length of the hallway leading into Connie’s studio, still carrying his cup. He ducked slightly to keep from hitting his head on the doorframe. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled. “You’ve always had a good view of the road from here.”
    “True, but I’ve usually got my back to it.”
    I stood in the doorway and watched while Dennis wandered around the studio for a few more minutes, looking but not touching. When he returned to thekitchen, Connie said, “I’d ask you to stay for supper, Dennis, but I don’t feel much like cooking tonight.”
    “I couldn’t stay anyway, Connie. I have to get home to Maggie. She’ll be wondering where I am.” He peeked under his cuff to check the time.
    “Whew. It’s later than I thought.” He extended his hand. “I’ll be in touch.” For Connie he had a hug. “Take care.”
    While Connie stood at the sink with her back to me, rattling the crockery, I watched from the window as Dennis backed up his Taurus, eased it skillfully around my Toyota, turned, then headed down the drive. It was with considerable self-restraint that I waited until he reached the road before I pounced. “Okay, Connie. Out with it! What’s the story with you and Dennis?”
    “We’re friends. Just friends.”
    “Ha!”
    She turned to face me. “No, really! Wipe that cynical, suspicious look off your face! Dennis was very supportive when Craig died.”
    I thought about the way Dennis had moved about Connie’s house with easy familiarity. He knew where Connie kept the cups and that she stored sugar in the refrigerator. I was betting he knew where the toothpaste was, too, and which side of the bed she slept on.
    “Ha!” I repeated. Connie’s mouth turned up slightly at the corners; then she returned her attention to the dirty dishes.
    “And who’s Maggie?”
    “Maggie is Dennis’s daughter.”
    I was surprised. I’d assumed Maggie was his wife.
    “She’s twenty-two but still lives at home. She hasn’t been very well lately, Hannah.”
    Connie read my mind, which was thinking cancer . “No, not that! It’s bipolar disorder. Manic depression. Whatever we call it these days.”
    Wet dishcloth in hand, Connie began to wipe down the stove top. “They’ve had her on lithium, Depakote, Wellbutrin, and something called norepinephrine, but nothing seems to work for long. One minute she’s chartering buses and organizing pro-life marches on the White House; the next she’s locked herself in the bathroom, threatening to commit suicide. It’s a big worry.”
    “She must be a handful for her mother.”
    Connie draped the dishcloth over the oven door handle to dry. “Dennis’s wife died suddenly last Christmas.”
    Open mouth, insert foot . I was curious about how she died, but the look on Connie’s