Fortunes of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

hand and headed toward the inset door, fumbling with a fistful of keys. The rain came down harder, pattering the roof of my car.
    â€œYou ready?” I asked.
    Miranda nodded. She did not seem able to talk.
    â€œOkay, then. Ground rules. Once you get in there, the only thing you’re going to care about is Cheryl’s car. You’re going to want me and Chris to go away and let you sit in the front seat and think a little, and be private. I wish I could arrange it that way. The car is evidence, and if your sister was murdered—and you know that’s what I think—the physical evidence in the car is what’s going to nail her killer. We can’t compromise that.”
    Miranda made no sign that she was taking anything in. She was leaning so far forward in her seat she could stick out her tongue and lick the windshield.
    But I did take everything in, and I was thinking I made the decision to drive out here a little too fast. I was thinking I might be in over my head. It was too easy for me to identify with Miranda; but she was young, and I didn’t know her all that well. And what might have been right for me in this situation was not necessarily right for her. If Joel ever found out I brought her out here, I was toast.
    I took the ball cap off and brushed hair out of my face. “Okay, Miranda, here are the rules. You can’t touch the car. You can’t even—stand close to the car—keep back at least six feet. Keep your hands jammed down in your pockets. I’ll be doing the same.
    â€œUnderstand, Chris is sticking his neck out letting us in here. When he looks at us I want him to feel comfortable. I want him to see two women well away from the car, and with their hands in their pockets. Just so you know, Chris could lose his job for doing this.”
    â€œThen why is he doing it?”
    Her voice was faint, but at least she was listening.
    â€œThink of Chris as another one of your peers. You can’t tell anybody you were here or let on to the police that you’ve seen Cheryl’s car. Just remember you’re among friends. Agreed?”
    Miranda turned so she could meet my eyes. “I won’t tell a soul.”
    The Mustang sat on the concrete floor like a showroom exhibit, the rusty blue metal cold but clean. Joel continually referred to the car as a “nice ride,” and most of the guys, even Joel, spoke wistfully about the ’64 “Stang.” And always with an annoying reverence in their tone.
    Miranda halted midstride when she saw the Mustang, and she stood rigidly, like a woman in a trance. After a moment of watching her, I had to look away.
    The one person I hadn’t worried about in my long lecture to Miranda and my plea to Chris was me. I wondered how Joel stood this sort of thing, day in and day out. I realized how happy I’d been the last few months, how light. I didn’t want to watch Miranda Brady storing up memories of her big sister’s death car. People say it’s time to get out of the business when things stop affecting you, when you no longer care; but to my mind that’s leaving it too long. Maybe I didn’t want to know every bad thing that happened in the world.
    The warehouse was noisy with the echoes of rain clattering on the tin roof. It was crowded inside, but organized, like the attic of a pack-rat control freak. Miranda turned and looked at me, ready to hear what she did not want to hear.
    â€œThe police think Cheryl’s killer disposed of her body, and then drove her car back and left it in the apartment parking lot.” I started to point, then remembered that I had to keep my hands in my pockets. My jeans were heavy with rainwater and felt tight and miserable on my legs. I thought of the upstairs bathroom in my new little cottage, of the claw-foot bathtub that I had been fantasizing about since Joel and I made our offer on the house. I imagined a tub of bubbles and scented oil, the