Bones to Pick Read Online Free PDF Page B

both."
    He leaned forward and picked up my hand, his fingers stroking it gently. "You're a clever woman, Sarah Booth."
    I shook my head. "Not really. But you are a good man, Harold. I can prove that."
    He squeezed my hand, and my thumb tingled. Then the waiter brought the check, and we were out in the cold night, with a starry drive back to Zinnia.
    Harold left me at the door with a kiss on the cheek. As I watched his taillights disappear down the drive, I felt a sense of foreboding. Gordon Walters knew that Harold wouldn't kill Quentin or anyone else, but I had a feeling this case was going to get much larger than
Sunflower
County
and the reach of local law enforcement. I was worried about Harold.
    Sleeping late is an art form at Dahlia House--and one that both Sweetie Pie and Jitty seem to take as a personal affront. The bedside clock showed eight when I heard Sweetie's tail thumping the floor and felt her hot breath on my face. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to burrow beneath my pillows.
    "I would have thought you'd get more than a kiss from Harold Erkwell, Sarah Booth."
    I opened my eyes to find Jitty standing at the foot of the bed, a shaft of morning sunlight falling directly across her. The peacock blue of her dress was so bright, I held up my hands in the sign of the cross. "You're about to fry my eyeballs. Pull the shades!"
    Jitty, of course, didn't move an inch. I got up and closed the shades. I gave the bed one last, lingering glance. "What do you want?"
    "Some action." She swished by me as she took a seat on the side of the bed, petticoats rattling.
    I wasn't ready for verbal combat with Jitty, but I had no choice. "What about a society that has no morality? I thought you were for rules and order and propriety. How would it be proper for me to sleep with a client?"
    "If he became a husband, it would be just fine. Sarah Booth, a whole year has passed, and you're not any closer to the altar than you were in
New York City
."
    "Go away." I went to the bathroom and began my morning ablutions.
    "You like Harold." She harangued me through the closed door of the bathroom.
    "Which is the best reason I know to stay away from him. Every time I get the idea that I like a man, he ends up in a world of hurt."
    "My, my, who are you feeling sorry for,
Hamilton
or yourself?"
    I was saved from answering by the sound of the doorbell. As I zipped my jeans and ran barefoot down the stairs, I considered the advantages of finding a roommate. Jitty didn't appear when anyone else was in the house. A roommate would solve a lot of problems.
    "You aren't going to believe what I found out," Tinkie said as she hurried through the front door and headed east rather than west. She was going to our office instead of the kitchen. That in itself intrigued me enough to follow along, my bare feet slapping on the cold wood floor as my brain murmured "coffee, coffee, coffee."
    "What?"
    She went in the office and plopped down at her desk. She'd learned that from me. In her formal DG days, Tinkie would never have plopped. A true DG descended into a chair.
    "The McGee family has refused to claim Quentin's body!"
    "Are you sure?" This was scandalous.
    "Absolutely. I heard it directly from the horse's mouth--"
    There was a light in her eyes that told me more was to come. "And--"
    "Mrs. Virgie Carrington is coming down to claim the body and handle all of the funeral arrangements."
    "The Virgie Carrington? Founder and director of the
Carrington
School
for Weil-Bred Ladies?"
    "None other."
    "I didn't realize Quentin had connections with the school." I should have. She was a McGee, and as such, she'd undoubtedly graduated under Virgie's guiding hand.
    "She and Allison both are graduates." Tinkie frowned. "I just can't imagine the family not handling the funeral, though."
    "Obviously, they're very angry with Quentin."
    Tinkie nodded. "I have to wonder if the whole book wasn't written just to get even with
Franklin
and
Caledonia
."
    I picked up a pen and