Shakespeare's Trollop by Charlaine Harris Page B

old house and the smoke.
    â€œDoesn’t cut any ice with me,” Jump stated, but I didn’t believe him.
    â€œYour testosterone’s showing,” I told him. He glanced down before he could stop himself. “I saw a fire, I reported it like a good citizen, and I helped an old man escape death. You can make something suspicious out of that if you want, but I don’t think it’s gonna fly.” And I lengthened my stride, leaving him standing and staring after me with baffled irritation on his shadowed face.

E IGHT
    I slept late the next day. I must have punched down my alarm button without even knowing it, because when I finally checked the clock, I saw that I was supposed to be at my first Saturday morning cleaning job. I left my bed unmade, my breakfast uneaten, and arrived at Carrie’s office barefaced and groggy. There was no one there to see me in any condition at all, so I accelerated my pace and got her office finished, then scooted over to the travel agent’s.
    I’d gotten my adrenaline pumping so effectively that I actually finished early. When I got home I collapsed at my kitchen table, trying to figure out what the rest of the day held. My Saturdays were usually spent grocery shopping and cleaning my own place. I tried to recall what else I had going.
    Well, there was Deedra’s funeral. Janet was coming by within the hour to accompany me to that. Then Bobo was coming over for some unstated purpose. And I still had to shop and clean since Jack was driving in tomorrow.
    All I wanted to do was sleep, or rent a movie and sit in a silent lump on my double recliner to watch it. But I hoisted myself to my feet and went to the bathroom for a hot shower.
    When Janet thumped on my front door forty-five minutes later, I was in my black suit, made up, with hose and pumps making me feel like a stranger to myself. I had just completed my makeup, and as I opened the door to her, I was pushing the back onto my left earring.
    â€œLily, you look good in black,” Janet said.
    â€œThanks. You’re looking good yourself.” It was true; Janet was wearing a chestnut sheath with a brown-gold-green jacket, and it brought out the best in her coloring and figure.
    It was time to go, so I grabbed my purse and locked the door on the way out.
    â€œOh, by the way,” Janet said, “I told Becca we’d stop by the apartments and pick her up.”
    I shrugged. Why anyone needed to be accompanied to a funeral was outside of my understanding, but I had no objection.
    Becca came out of the big front doors of the Shakespeare Garden Apartments just as we walked up. She was wearing a dark blue dress with big white polka dots, and she’d put up her hair somehow under a navy blue straw hat. With her usual dramatic makeup, Becca looked as if she had a bit part in a film about charming Southern eccentrics.
    â€œHidey!” she said, all perky and upbeat. I stared at her. “Sorry,” Becca told us after a second. “I’ve got to sober down. I just got a real good piece of news, and I haven’t got it out of my system.”
    â€œCan we ask?” asked Janet. Her round brown eyes were almost protruding with curiosity.
    â€œWell,” Becca said, looking as though she’d blush with pleasure if Revlon hadn’t already done it for her, “my brother is coming to see me.”
    Janet and I exchanged significant glances. Becca had only mentioned her brother Anthony a time or two, and Janet had wondered aloud one time why the apartments had been left to Becca. Why not a fair split between sister and brother? I hadn’t responded, because it was none of my business how Pardon Albee had left his estate, but I had had to admit to myself that singling out Becca had seemed a little unusual. Now we’d get to meet the brother, maybe discover why Becca had been so favored.
    In a polite voice, Janet said, “That’s real nice.” We were too close to