first 69 families to settle in Virginia.
Naturally, Alice belonged.
Dan, one evening while he and Vonne were visiting at Quinn’s home, looked at the hundreds of applications from people wishing to join the 69 Club. He told Quinn, “I don’t see how the men ever got the time to put a crop in. With all these descendants, they must have been screwing morning, noon, and night.”
Alice had overheard the remark. She didn’t speak to Dan for a year.
Emily Harrison, wife of Doctor Harrison, was a marginal member of the Daughters of the Confederacy. It was a little dubious as to just exactly which side her great grandpappy fought on. He was found hanging by his neck from a tree limb on the side of the road. The top half of the body was dressed in Union blue, the bottom half wearing the Rebel gray. But the DOC gave Emily the benefit of the doubt and let her in anyway. Doctor’s wife, you know?
Emily pulled Alice off to one side after the meeting. “Have you any idea what is going on at the hospital?”
“No.” Alice looked blank for a few seconds. “Is there something I need to know about?” Alice was just a little bit of an airhead, too.
Emily sighed. “The murders, Alice!”
“Oh. Oh! Well, Sheriff Garrett will take care of that gruesomeness. He is a good sheriff, even if he is a bit disrespectful toward that which is most important.”
“Huh?” Emily said.
“Never mind, dear. You weren’t here.”
Thank God for small favors, Emily thought.
Alice babbled on. “Ladies should not concern themselves with such matters as murder and all that. It just isn’t proper.”
Emily looked at the woman strangely and nodded her head. Emily had been an emergency room RN before she married Bill Harrison. If there was any thing she hadn’t seen, she didn’t know what in the flippin’ flap it was.
“Come, dear,” Alice gushed again. “Let’s have a glass of tea and talk about next month’s meeting. We have so much to plan.”
Emily looked around her. Everyone else had left. Oh, damn! she thought. I’m stuck.
A thumping came from the back porch. Sort of a slow thump-thump-thumping.
“Now what in the world is that?” Alice said.
“One way to find out,” Emily said.
“Oh?”
“Go look.”
“Oh. But I’ve dismissed the help. Oh, well. You know where the glasses are. You pour the tea and I’ll go see what all the commotion is about.”
The thumping was growing louder.
Alice walked out of the room, toward the back door. Walking is perhaps the wrong descriptive: gliding would be more like it. Like on a protected pillow of air. It fit her well.
Emily found the glasses, filled them with ice, and poured the tea. Pre-sweetened. Yukk! She hated sweetened tea. Stuff was so sweet she could feel her teeth turning into sugar cubes.
She heard some sort of . . . she didn’t know what it was. Sort of a strangled sound. She turned around. Alice was standing in the archway. Her face was chalk-white and she was shaking all over.
“Alice! What’s wrong?”
“Uh-uh-uh!” Alice said, pointing toward the back porch. “Gibjubuhdo.”
“What?”
“Mum ... mum ... mummy!”
Shock, Emily thought. The woman’s in shock. She ran to the woman and gave her a good pop across the face. She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
“Damnit, Alice. Talk to me!”
Alice cut her eyes to the back. Emily looked and froze to the floor.
Emily’s first thought was: somebody’s playing a joke on us. She was used to that. ER people will do anything to relieve the tension.
Emily quickly realized the scene before them was no accident. It was just too hideous. It would have taken a professional Hollywood makeup artist hours to do this. And the smell was sickening.
And she knew that smell. Decaying flesh. Rot. Maggots working overtime, eating through putrefied flesh.
The mummy-looking—and that’s exactly what Alice had been trying to say— thing , wrinkled and stinking, took a hesitant step forward, unsure of
Naturally, Alice belonged.
Dan, one evening while he and Vonne were visiting at Quinn’s home, looked at the hundreds of applications from people wishing to join the 69 Club. He told Quinn, “I don’t see how the men ever got the time to put a crop in. With all these descendants, they must have been screwing morning, noon, and night.”
Alice had overheard the remark. She didn’t speak to Dan for a year.
Emily Harrison, wife of Doctor Harrison, was a marginal member of the Daughters of the Confederacy. It was a little dubious as to just exactly which side her great grandpappy fought on. He was found hanging by his neck from a tree limb on the side of the road. The top half of the body was dressed in Union blue, the bottom half wearing the Rebel gray. But the DOC gave Emily the benefit of the doubt and let her in anyway. Doctor’s wife, you know?
Emily pulled Alice off to one side after the meeting. “Have you any idea what is going on at the hospital?”
“No.” Alice looked blank for a few seconds. “Is there something I need to know about?” Alice was just a little bit of an airhead, too.
Emily sighed. “The murders, Alice!”
“Oh. Oh! Well, Sheriff Garrett will take care of that gruesomeness. He is a good sheriff, even if he is a bit disrespectful toward that which is most important.”
“Huh?” Emily said.
“Never mind, dear. You weren’t here.”
Thank God for small favors, Emily thought.
Alice babbled on. “Ladies should not concern themselves with such matters as murder and all that. It just isn’t proper.”
Emily looked at the woman strangely and nodded her head. Emily had been an emergency room RN before she married Bill Harrison. If there was any thing she hadn’t seen, she didn’t know what in the flippin’ flap it was.
“Come, dear,” Alice gushed again. “Let’s have a glass of tea and talk about next month’s meeting. We have so much to plan.”
Emily looked around her. Everyone else had left. Oh, damn! she thought. I’m stuck.
A thumping came from the back porch. Sort of a slow thump-thump-thumping.
“Now what in the world is that?” Alice said.
“One way to find out,” Emily said.
“Oh?”
“Go look.”
“Oh. But I’ve dismissed the help. Oh, well. You know where the glasses are. You pour the tea and I’ll go see what all the commotion is about.”
The thumping was growing louder.
Alice walked out of the room, toward the back door. Walking is perhaps the wrong descriptive: gliding would be more like it. Like on a protected pillow of air. It fit her well.
Emily found the glasses, filled them with ice, and poured the tea. Pre-sweetened. Yukk! She hated sweetened tea. Stuff was so sweet she could feel her teeth turning into sugar cubes.
She heard some sort of . . . she didn’t know what it was. Sort of a strangled sound. She turned around. Alice was standing in the archway. Her face was chalk-white and she was shaking all over.
“Alice! What’s wrong?”
“Uh-uh-uh!” Alice said, pointing toward the back porch. “Gibjubuhdo.”
“What?”
“Mum ... mum ... mummy!”
Shock, Emily thought. The woman’s in shock. She ran to the woman and gave her a good pop across the face. She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
“Damnit, Alice. Talk to me!”
Alice cut her eyes to the back. Emily looked and froze to the floor.
Emily’s first thought was: somebody’s playing a joke on us. She was used to that. ER people will do anything to relieve the tension.
Emily quickly realized the scene before them was no accident. It was just too hideous. It would have taken a professional Hollywood makeup artist hours to do this. And the smell was sickening.
And she knew that smell. Decaying flesh. Rot. Maggots working overtime, eating through putrefied flesh.
The mummy-looking—and that’s exactly what Alice had been trying to say— thing , wrinkled and stinking, took a hesitant step forward, unsure of
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