A Comedy of Heirs Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t you play us some music?” Wendy said and walked over and turned off my Gene Autry album without asking. I checked the notion to punch her a good one and smiled. I’d wanted to punch Wendy plenty of times as a kid, and this was no different. Two hours around her and that same insecure little girl surfaced at the hands of my incredibly gifted, patient, multitalented, albeit rude, cousin.
    Kevin, who was about ten years old rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to play. He’d just sat down on the piano bench because the couch and chairs were all covered with glass ornaments waiting to be put on the tree. “He doesn’t want to play,” I said. “Turn my record back on.”
    â€œOh, sure he does,” Wendy said. “Don’t you, Kev. Come on, play something.”
    â€œYou know ‘The First Noel?’” Rachel asked.
    Kevin broke into one of the more recognizable Preludes by Chopin. Wendy smiled and played with the hair at the nape of her son’s neck, pleased at his selection.
    â€œThat’s not ‘The First Noel,’” Rachel said with her nose puckered in dislike. “That’s not anything.”
    THE NEW KASSEL GAZETTE
    T HE N EWS Y OU M IGHT M ISS
    by Eleanore Murdoch
    The Christmas season is fully underway here in New Kassel. It’s December and no snow as of yet, so if you guessed the first snow would be in November you were wrong.
    The Boys Choir of Santa Lucia is having their annual Christmas play and concert this coming Tuesday night. Oscar wanted me to mention that there are a few girls in the choir because Father Bingham couldn’t get enough boys to sing the first soprano part.
    The Lick-a-pot Candy Shoppe is hosting a Snowman Contest this year. A pound of chocolate fudge will go to the winner. No adults please.
    And ignore any strange noises coming from the O’Shea residence this week. They are hosting a family reunion. Remember the lake? 1991? Those same people.
    Until next time,
    Eleanore

Five
    I drove along Clayton Road in St. Louis County on my way to the library. I wasn’t going to the main public library downtown, I was going to the county headquarters. I passed the Mormon church and the Mormon library on Clayton road, then passed Braun Antiques on my left, then made a right on Lindbergh.
    The library was just about a quarter of mile, if that, on my left. I went inside and through the octagon entrance into the main part of the library. I had a doctor’s appointment at two, so I couldn’t spend too long here. I went around to the right and up the open staircase to a loft type of area, then up another flight of steps to the top floor, which housed the genealogical records. They had a few newspapers on file for some of the areas in Missouri and I knew that Partut County was one of them, because I had checked them before.
    I signed in for a microfilm machine and opened one of the big drawers with the microfilm. I grabbed the one I needed and sat down to feed the machine. It’s a little tricky working the microfilm machine but once you get it down pat, you can usually work all the different kinds. The newspaper began in January 1948. I hit the Forward button and watched as the papers zoomed by so fast it made me sick to my stomach. I stopped the microfilm. May. I zoomed it again and stopped. August. I inched it forward until I had the right day. And the right headline.
    LOCAL MAN SHOT TO DEATH ON FRONT PORCH .
    It was real. I had half expected this to be a prank, so the reality of it got me right in the gut. I sat back and ran my fingers through my shoulder-length hair and breathed in a deep cleansing breath. It was real. This was not a prank.
    Now I was not only faced with the fact that I’d been lied to my whole life, we’d all been lied to. I had to deal with the fact that this was unsolved. And that somebody desperately wanted me to know about it. They wanted me to know about it in time for the