Portrait of a Dead Guy Read Online Free PDF

stood facing me, his stance wide and arms crossed. Scrambling up from the chair, I scooted around a flower arrangement.
    “I was already in here and didn’t want to disturb you,” I said. “But yeah, I heard. We all got some skeletons in our closets. No big deal.”
    Luke scowled. “Knowing I’m going to encounter Virginia always puts me in a bad mood. She’s a couple fries short of a Happy Meal. Dustin didn’t have much of a chance with that DNA combination.”
    “Well, I know something about mothers who choose a love life over their kids.”
    “Yeah,” Luke wandered over to my pile of supplies and picked up a portable easel, “me, too.”
    There wasn’t much more to say unless someone started handing out shots of Jack with a Loretta Lynn song on the jukebox. I let Luke futz around with my easel while I took another tour of Dustin. There was no “angel viewing” angle with my height. Cooper had the coffin jacked up unnecessarily high. I held my sketchpad under one arm and stood on my toes peering over the coffin. Dustin looked pretty good. The police hadn’t revealed how he had been killed, but there was no obvious injury to his face, thank the Lord.
    “I could lift you up so you can see more than the coffin handles,” said the soft baritone hovering above my head.
    “That’s original. A joke about my height.” I resisted the urge to turn around. “You want to give me a little space? I don’t know Dustin well enough to get this friendly with him.”
    Luke stepped back but shifted to my side instead of leaving. His hands dropped to rest on the coffin’s edge. “He would have liked to know you’re hanging all over him now. Harassing his parents to get a chance to spend time with him.”
    “Wasn’t going to happen while he was alive, so I guess I can give him some attention now.”
    Luke tried to crack a smile, but you could have bounced a penny off those tight shoulders.
    “Do you know how he died?” I asked.
    “Somebody smacked the back of his skull with something heavy.” Luke stared at his stepbrother. “Probably walked up to him and beamed him in one blow.”
    “How could someone do that?”
    “Easy. I could’ve knocked you a good one. Hidden something in my pocket or picked something up in the room. You knew I was in the room and didn’t turn around. I stood right…”
    The hair rose on the back of my neck. “Yeah, I know where you were standing, and you’ve done it a few too many times today.” I looked at him askance. “I don’t like my personal space violated.”
    “That’s not what I remember…”
    “You can stop right there, Hugh Hefner. Let’s get something straight. I’m all grown up. I’m not, nor was I ever, some piece of trash you could get drunk on Boone’s Farm, have your way with in your truck, and leave at the Waffle House with an unpaid check.”
    “Man, that was a long time ago. You really do hold a grudge.”
    “You did it more than once!” I tossed my sketchbook to the floor. Placing my hands on my hips, I took a step closer and flung my chin up.
    “Hell, you’re just mad because you wanted me so bad, you let me get away with it.”
    “You want to try that again?”
    “You know I’m right.”
    “You are a…” I struggled for appropriate words to use in a funeral home. “Pig! I’ve news for you, Luke Harper.”
    He edged closer. I resisted retreat and took another step forward until we stood inches away. I glowered and poked a finger into his chest.
    “You start messing with me, you’re gonna end up with an ass full of buckshot. Not only do I still have that piece of crap yellow truck, I also have my daddy’s shotgun, and I know how to use it.”
    Snatching my hand, he folded the offending finger to rest within his palm. “And if you don’t keep your fingers to yourself, you’re going to lose one.” He released my hand.
    I stepped back and retrieved my sketchbook from the floor. “It’s time I got back to work. Now that I’m done