Grave Surprise Read Online Free PDF

the traffic flowing the way we needed to go, so we were more or less trapped. He rolled down the window and put on an agreeable smile.
    â€œShellie Quail from Channel Thirteen,” the shiny woman said. She was the color of hot chocolate, and her black hair gleamed like it had been polished. It was in a smooth helmet style. Shellie Quail’s makeup was equally warlike, lots of bright colors and definite lines. I wondered how long it took her to get ready to leave her house in the morning. She was wearing a tight pantsuit in a brownish, tweedy material, flecked with orange. The little flecks made her skin glow. “Mr. Lang, are you Miss Connelly’s manager? Have I got that right?” the shining woman said.
    â€œYes, you do,” Tolliver said agreeably. I knew the camera was rolling. But I had faith in my brother. He has a lot of charm when the occasion arises, especially if it arises in the presence of a pretty woman.
    â€œCan you comment on this morning’s happenings in the old St. Margaret’s cemetery at Bingham College?” she asked. The microphone she’d been clutching was thrust at Tolliver’s chin in what I considered a very aggressive way.
    â€œYes,” he said. “We’re waiting to hear if the body we discovered can be identified.” I admired the way he kept his voice so level and calm—but serious, and worthy of being taken seriously.
    â€œIs it true the police are considering the possibility that the skeleton may be that of Tabitha Morgenstern?”
    Well, that hadn’t taken long to leak out.
    â€œOur thoughts and our prayers are with the Morgenstern family. Of course, like everyone else here, we’re very anxious to hear some news,” Tolliver said neutrally.
    â€œMr. Lang, is it true your sister stated that the body just exhumed from the cemetery is definitely that of the missing girl?”
    We weren’t going to get by with anything. “We believe that to be true,” he said, indirectly.
    â€œHow do you explain the coincidence?”
    â€œWhat coincidence?” Tolliver asked, which I thought was maybe a little over the top.
    Even Shellie Quail looked disconcerted. But she got back on her roll. “That your sister was hired to look for Tabitha Morgenstern months ago in Nashville, and then hired to look at the graves in the old St. Margaret’s cemetery here in Memphis. And that a body reported to be that of Tabitha Morgenstern is found in that cemetery.”
    â€œWe have no idea how this came about, and we’re looking forward to hearing the explanation,” Tolliver said sternly, as if we’d been mightily put-upon. Baffled, Shellie Quail paused to think of another question, and we took the opportunity to make our left turn.

three
    THE Cleveland was beautiful. The Cleveland was discreet. I was not going to want to see our credit card bill when it came next month.
    A valet took our car, and we rolled into the lobby in a flurry of baggage and desperation, anxious to get away from the reporters who’d actually followed us to the new hotel. The staff was as courteous as if we’d stayed at the Cleveland four times a year. We were upstairs and out of reach of anyone in the twinkling of an eye. I was so glad to have time to regroup in relative safety and privacy, I could have cried.
    The suite had a central living room with a bedroom on each side. Going directly to the bedroom on the right, I took off my shoes, lay down on my very own king-size bed, and surrounded myself with pillows. That’s something I love about really good hotels: the abundance of pillows.Once I was padded and quiet and warm, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift. Of course, they drifted right to the little girl I’d found in the cemetery.
    I’d assumed Tabitha was dead from the moment I’d read about her disappearance, weeks before the Morgensterns had asked me to find her body. Based on the information in the