All the Pretty Hearses Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrong to guess it has something to do with winter steelheading?”
    “Yes, you would,” Joe replied, ladling more pot roast gravy onto his potatoes. “Or do you already have some things you want me to do around the house like cleaning out the basement or fixing the broken garage window?”
    “Well . . . that window should be replaced. The pigeons fly in there sometimes.”
    “Why did anyone ever put a window that high up? It’s useless.”
    “Grandpa Grover did that because of the chickens they kept there during the Second World War. They nested in the loft. He could check on them through the window.”
    “Why would he do that?” Joe suddenly waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t actually want to know. Besides, Bill has a real job for me.”
    Judith almost choked on a carrot. “You . . . mean . . .” she sputtered, “a . . . paying job?”
    Joe nodded. “Indeed.”
    Judith narrowed her eyes. “It better not involve Oscar.”
    “It doesn’t,” he asserted. “It’s a former patient who believes he’s being stalked.”
    Judith was still leery. “In other words, Bill didn’t cure this patient.”
    “I don’t think that’s true,” Joe said, looking serious. “This guy has physical proof that there’s some kind of harassment if not actual stalking going on. Whoever is pestering him leaves souvenirs at his residence or sends them through the mail.”
    “Why doesn’t he call the cops?”
    “For the same reason I mentioned earlier,” Joe explained. “He did call, but this sort of nuisance stuff isn’t a high priority with limited resources. Admittedly, it sounds a little goofy, but that doesn’t mean whoever is doing it might not escalate the situation.”
    Judith considered taking a second helping of pot roast but changed her mind. Joe was already forking more onto his plate and Gertrude would want the leftovers for sandwiches. Judith was watching her weight as she always did, especially after the holidays. “Dare I ask who’s on the receiving end of this harassment?”
    Joe shook his head. “Doctor/client/PI privileges.”
    “Then you’re taking on this job?”
    “Sure.” Joe’s cheerful expression changed to puzzlement. “I thought you wanted me to get out there and earn.”
    “I do,” she assured him. “It just sounds a little . . . strange.”
    “Bill’s patients usually are a little strange,” Joe said drily. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be his patients.”
    “You told me this person was . . . healed.”
    Joe made a face. “Nobody’s ever ‘healed’—as you of all people know. This kind of thing could cause a relapse, or whatever shrinks term backsliding behavior.”
    “Bill usually refers to such conditions as ‘going off his or her nut.’ ”
    Joe nodded absently. “Bill speaks laymanese to the rest of us.”
    “Can you tell me what sort of things his patient is getting from the alleged would-be stalker?”
    “Innocuous stuff,” Joe replied, dishing yet more pot roast onto his plate. “A leather belt. Little restaurant cups of mustard and ketchup. A Serpentine Downs program from last summer.” He paused. “Oh—a wilted carnation bouquet.”
    Judith stared at Joe. “That’s a very eclectic, not to mention bland bunch of items. What does Bill—or his patient—make of it?”
    “They don’t, which is why the ex-patient is concerned.” Joe eyed Judith warily. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. Let it go. The client’s agreed to pay my usual fee. That should satisfy you.”
    Judith didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally she shrugged. “Okay. It’s not my problem. I’ll dismiss it from my mind.”
    Both Flynns knew better than to believe her words. But neither of them said so out loud.
    By Thursday afternoon, there had been no other requests for Room Three, though Judith had added one more guest, a single woman for Room Two. Rooms One and Five remained vacant, but at least the B&B was over half full.
    By the time her four