Pushing Up Bluebonnets Read Online Free PDF Page B

We'll see Aunt Caroline first, then head over to Ben Taub.''
      ''Sounds good,'' she said.
      I pulled her to me and we hugged. ''Thanks for doing ditzy-aunt duty.''
      ''No problem. Are you parked in the garage next to the hospital?'' she asked.
      ''Yeah, up in a hole in the ozone.''
      ''I'm in my contract spot way in the other direction. Good night, Abby.''
      I found my way back to where I'd parked. The night was sticky hot and seemed to amplify the smells in the garage—the vomit, the discarded remnants of fast food, the oil leaks. No security around, or none that I'd noticed. I'm not usually bothered by being out late alone, but I felt jittery tonight. It had to do with JoLynn, of course. There are so many easier ways to murder someone than to mess with a car. Her killer wanted to make sure she knew there was nothing she could do since her brakes were gone; wanted her to know a terror like she'd probably never known before. This seemed like a rage crime to me. I've always had nightmares about dying in a car wreck, which is probably why this bothered me so much, why evil seemed to linger in the dank air. I felt relieved when I climbed behind the wheel and locked my doors.
      I arrived back home to find Jeff asleep in the recliner. Doris must have gone upstairs to one of the two guest rooms, because she was nowhere to be seen. I walked quietly past him toward my office, thinking I'd see what I could discover about the Richter family before my hospital visit tomorrow.
      But I wasn't halfway across the living room when I heard Jeff's sleepy voice. ''How's your aunt, hon?''
      I turned to him and smiled. ''As feisty as ever and probably in denial she's diabetic. But she does look a whole lot better than when she left here on a stretcher. She was all confused then and it scared me.''
      ''Diabetic, huh? How will that affect her lunches and dinners at the club? The few times we've gone there to eat with her she always has at least three glasses of wine and something chocolate for dessert.''
      ''I have no idea how she'll manage. I only know I don't want to see her carted away by paramedics again.''
      Jeff got up. ''How about wine for us? We're not diabetic—at least not yet.''
      ''Sounds good to me,'' I answered.
      We walked into the kitchen and while Jeff took an unopened bottle of chardonnay from the fridge, I gathered the letters that I'd left on the kitchen table and dumped them into the file box without bothering to put them back in their correct folders. Maybe Aunt Caroline would take on that thankless task when she felt better.
      As Jeff poured our wine, he said, ''What were you doing with those files?''
      ''That's an interesting story,'' I said.
      He walked over and handed me my glass, then picked up Cooper Boyd's copy of my business card. ''Have anything to do with this?''
      ''Yes, Sergeant Kline, super detective.'' I reached for the manila envelope where I'd put JoLynn's letter, and then handed it to him. ''Also has to do with this.''
      After he'd read the letter through its plastic protection, he looked at me quizzically. ''I'm missing something. Want to share?''
      ''Most certainly.'' I took his hand and led him to the sofa.
      We settled in, my legs draped over his lap, and I told him the whole story.
      ''Sounds like an interesting case,'' he said when I'd finished.
      ''No one's actually hired me, but—''
      ''You don't need to explain. You do what you have to do and no one had better get in your way. Now, put down that glass and come closer. I have a few things to share that have nothing to do with our jobs.''
      I crawled into Jeff's lap, ready to forget the stress of the 911 call I'd had to make earlier today.

    5

    The next morning, Jeff woke early and took Doris home while I went to my office computer to do a little research before Kate and I visited both hospitals. But searching for the name JoLynn Richter gave me no results in any database, not