Thicker than Water by Rett MacPherson Read Free Book Online Page B

would never cease to amaze me.
    I took the boxes downstairs, put them on my desk, and booted up my computer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stephanie go walking by but thought nothing of it. I logged on to the Internet and checked my mail. There was nothing from the Iowa GenWeb page.
    Stephanie came into my office then. “How long have you been in here?”
    â€œIn my office?”
    â€œYeah,” she said.
    â€œAbout fifteen minutes,” I said. “Why?”
    A peculiar expression crossed her face. “I just went upstairs to ask you about this, and you weren’t there, but I could have sworn I heard you up there.” All I could do was stare at her. “I mean, I heard you walking. The floor creaks, you know.”
    â€œYes, I know,” I said. “I … well, I was here. I don’t know what else to say.”
    â€œWeird,” she said.
    â€œYeah, weird,” I said. “Whatcha got?”
    â€œOh, should I put this in with the legal stuff?”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œIt looks like police reports. Or something like that. From … 1972.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    Stephanie shrugged and handed the papers to me. “Maybe I’m wrong on what they are. You take a look.”
    I took the papers from her. Indeed, they were copies of a report of some kind from the Granite County Sheriff’s Department, dated October 1972. My brows creased and my head began to hurt.
    â€œHey, it’s lunchtime,” she said. “That’s the other reason I was coming upstairs to get you. I don’t know about you, but us pregnant ladies need to eat.”
    â€œOh,” I said. I managed to tear my eyes from the papers in my hand. She was smiling at me, a big, broad, healthy smile, although somewhere deep in the recesses of her eyes—eyes that looked just like mine, just like my father’s—there was a hint of concern. “Sure. You want me to order a pizza from Chuck’s?”
    â€œWhatever. As long as it’s hot and greasy.”
    â€œI think I can fulfill that request,” I said and picked up the phone to call for delivery.
    We ate out on the back porch, amidst the hummingbirds that dive-bombed our pizza and the wasps that went about building their nests. “I need to get somebody out here to clean up this yard. Get rid of the wasps.”
    â€œThis part of the house seems more neglected,” Stephanie said.
    â€œYeah, Sylvia wasn’t much of a gardener,” I said.
    We ate some more, talked some more, and I was full after two pieces of mushroom and green olive pizza. Stephanie’s half had mushrooms, green olives, and pineapple. She was pregnant; I’d forgive her for putting fruit on a pizza.
    â€œDo you want me to come tomorrow?” Stephanie asked.
    â€œOh, you don’t have to work on the weekend if you don’t want.”
    â€œNo, I want to help. Besides, I know the Strawberry Festival begins tomorrow.”
    â€œUgh,” I said and rested my head on the back of my chair. “I had forgotten for a while.”
    â€œIs it bad?”
    â€œNo, it’s just very hectic,” I said. “But it’s great for the town. Except for the trampled lawns.”
    â€œWell, why don’t I come and work here at the house, while you’re … doing whatever it is you do at the festival.”
    â€œAll right,” I said. “My mother-in-law arrives tomorrow, too.”
    â€œOh,” Stephanie said and gave me a speculative sideways glance.
    â€œDon’t ask,” I said.
    Just then a man walked around the house into the backyard. He wore no shirt, his hair came down to his waist, and there were tattoos of dragons and demons all over his body. He had a ring in his nose, like a pig. “Yeah, I knocked but nobody answered.”
    I stood then, a bit wary. “The house is closed for tours until further notice.” Maybe he couldn’t read the