Who Dat Whodunnit Read Online Free PDF Page B

suspected they knew about the tofu lasagna.
    I glanced at Frank out of the corner of my eyes while unwrapping my own mushroom bacon cheeseburger. He’d been unusually silent since we’d left Papa Bradley’s. The entire trip downtown he hadn’t said a word, but from the tic of a muscle in his jaw and the throbbing vein in his forehead I knew he was pissed off. I just let him stew. When Frank’s angry, it’s best to just let it burn itself out. He’d talk about it when he was ready.
    But I couldn’t help but think it was weird. Surely he wasn’t that upset about Tara showing up with Jared?
    “She’s lucky that’s all I did—she deserves much, much worse,” Mom replied, viciously stabbing a piece of lasagna with her fork. “I absolutely despise people who use religion as their excuse for bigotry. What religion has bigotry and hatred as its core values? I may not be a Christian but I’m willing to bet I’ve read the damned Bible more than she has.” She gestured with her fork. “ Homosexuality is an abomination? I bet she eats shrimp and lobster and wears mixed-fabric clothes. Same-sex marriage is against God’s plan?” She scowled. “But it’s perfectly okay for that hypocritical piece of trash to get her nose fixed and her boobs done. So, what her precious Lord gave her wasn’t good enough for her? She thought she could improve on her God’s work? She’s an abomination.”
    “I still can’t believe Papa didn’t warn us Jared was bringing her.” Dad shook his head, a sad look on his face.
    I felt bad for Dad. It wasn’t the first time. I’ve never understood the Bradley side of the family. For that matter, it was impossible to believe Papa and MiMi could have supplied the DNA for Dad. Rain once theorized that either MiMi had an affair or he had to have been adopted.
    If Dad didn’t have a strong resemblance to Papa Bradley, I’d find that easy to believe.
    “Because he knew damned well if we knew Jared was bringing that monster, we wouldn’t have shown up.” Mom took another slug of her wine. “And he wanted us all there, regardless of how we might feel, to worship at the shrine of St. Jared. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell the Holy Child not to bring her.”
    “How did they even meet?” I wondered out loud.
    Mom ignored me. “I am never setting foot in that house again, and I’m never speaking to him again unless he apologizes, and he certainly won’t do that. And admit he was wrong? That he behaved in a way that was offensive? Maybe when monkeys fly out of my ass.” She shook her head. “We should have cut him out of our lives years ago. He’s always treated us like trash, anyway. The worthless drunk Skipper can do no wrong—and if he can’t appreciate what a fine man you are, honey—” She kissed Dad on the cheek. “Well, then he doesn’t deserve our love or respect. I know he’s your father, darling—”
    Dad gave her a sad smile. “It’s okay, dear.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He certainly went too far this time. I don’t understand why he favors Jared so much.”
    “Because he’s a football player,” I replied.
    “What does that have to do with anything?” Frank wiped ketchup off his chin and looked at me.
    I smiled at him. Frank was born and raised up north and had lived in DC most of the time he was with the Feds. “It’s a Southern thing,” I said, for simplicity’s sake. “Football is like a religion down here. Like how the whole city’s gone nuts this season? How many other cities have gay bars televising the local team’s games?”
    Frank nodded. “So, because Jared’s a Saint, Papa Bradley treats him different than everyone else?”
    I rolled my eyes. “When I didn’t play football in high school…I might as well have been a cheerleader in his eyes.” Storm had played football—Papa Bradley hadn’t missed even one of his away games all four years. When Jared got a scholarship to play football at Southern Mississippi—a school