Read Online All Good Deeds by Stacy Green - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacy Green
Tags: Fiction
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my home, something to distract me from the muck I usually swam in.
Unfortunately, many of the older homes in Philadelphia are in neighborhoods still deep in the process of gentrification and surrounded by industry and crime.
Two years ago, I lucked out and snagged an apartment in the Northern Liberties Historic District. The building is a Federal Style home and dates back to 1809. Some innovative restoration expert saw life in the old house, and the apartments were salvaged while still keeping their historical bones. I lived on the top floor, on the western side, which means I was blessed with some amazing sunsets.
My apartment wasn’t much bigger than the dorm suite I’d shared in college. The bedroom fit my double bed with about a foot to spare, and the living room and kitchen all blended into an open concept that kept the space from looking too much like the inside of a tin can. But the walk-in closet complete with very useful cubby holes and a killer shoe rack made living in miniature worth it.
A demanding yowl greeted me. Mousecop wrapped himself around my ankles, purring loudly. I scooped him up and snuggled him, listening to the sound of his motor. “Hi, fat one.”
He twisted in my arms, his tail slipping around my neck. I knew his game. I carried him to my small kitchen, cradling him like the spoiled baby he was. His food bowl wasn’t empty, but I could see the bottom, and that was a no-no in Mousecop’s world. I poured him some expensive food and left him purring and chowing.
My eyes drooped from the early morning, and I checked my messages yet again hoping to have something from Kelly. She’d managed to log into Kailey’s email address and was painstakingly going through every contact. The police would do the same, but I wanted the information for my own investigation. She also found Slimy Steve on yet another disgusting website, with a new screen name and trying to meet up with a young girl. I needed to take care of him.
The phone pulsed, rattling on my miniscule end table. I slouched in the chair when I saw my mother’s name pop up on the caller I.D. If I didn’t answer and deal with her now, she’d keep calling.
“Hello?” I’m sure I didn’t sound pleased to hear from her.
“You were supposed to call me three days ago.”
My chin dropped to my chest. I didn’t need this right now. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
My mother heaved a sigh, and I pictured her sitting in the kitchen, sipping her iced tea. Once a raven-haired beauty, age and bad choices marked her face with deep wrinkles. Her makeup only made the lines more visible. No longer lustrous, her hair hung limp to her shoulders. “You’re always too busy for me.”
“I’ve got a backload of cases, Mom.” Not true, but I certainly had plenty of crap to muddle through.
“I know. But you’ve only got one mother. And who knows how long I’ll be around?”
“You’re only sixty-seven.”
My mother sighed with the imagined weight of the world. “I’ve had a hard life, Lucy.”
“I remember. How’s Mack?” Asking about my stepfather was the only way to keep from hanging up on her. The three of us had dinner together the other night, and Mack wound up with chest pains. I spent hours stuck with my mother in the emergency room, half-wishing she was the one in peril. Thankfully Mack was all right, but I still worried about him. He worked too hard and refused to retire.
“He’s fine,” my mother said. “But I have to force him to take it easy. It’s so hard when he won’t listen to me, Lucy.”
Never mind how tough it is for an aging construction worker and lifelong outdoorsman to admit he needed to slow down. It was always about Mother. “Tell him I’ll stop by to see him as soon as I can. I’ve picked up a case, and it’s pretty urgent.”
“Your job is so sad,” my mother said. “I’ll never understand why you chose to work with these kinds of people when you could have been anything.”
“These kinds of
Unfortunately, many of the older homes in Philadelphia are in neighborhoods still deep in the process of gentrification and surrounded by industry and crime.
Two years ago, I lucked out and snagged an apartment in the Northern Liberties Historic District. The building is a Federal Style home and dates back to 1809. Some innovative restoration expert saw life in the old house, and the apartments were salvaged while still keeping their historical bones. I lived on the top floor, on the western side, which means I was blessed with some amazing sunsets.
My apartment wasn’t much bigger than the dorm suite I’d shared in college. The bedroom fit my double bed with about a foot to spare, and the living room and kitchen all blended into an open concept that kept the space from looking too much like the inside of a tin can. But the walk-in closet complete with very useful cubby holes and a killer shoe rack made living in miniature worth it.
A demanding yowl greeted me. Mousecop wrapped himself around my ankles, purring loudly. I scooped him up and snuggled him, listening to the sound of his motor. “Hi, fat one.”
He twisted in my arms, his tail slipping around my neck. I knew his game. I carried him to my small kitchen, cradling him like the spoiled baby he was. His food bowl wasn’t empty, but I could see the bottom, and that was a no-no in Mousecop’s world. I poured him some expensive food and left him purring and chowing.
My eyes drooped from the early morning, and I checked my messages yet again hoping to have something from Kelly. She’d managed to log into Kailey’s email address and was painstakingly going through every contact. The police would do the same, but I wanted the information for my own investigation. She also found Slimy Steve on yet another disgusting website, with a new screen name and trying to meet up with a young girl. I needed to take care of him.
The phone pulsed, rattling on my miniscule end table. I slouched in the chair when I saw my mother’s name pop up on the caller I.D. If I didn’t answer and deal with her now, she’d keep calling.
“Hello?” I’m sure I didn’t sound pleased to hear from her.
“You were supposed to call me three days ago.”
My chin dropped to my chest. I didn’t need this right now. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
My mother heaved a sigh, and I pictured her sitting in the kitchen, sipping her iced tea. Once a raven-haired beauty, age and bad choices marked her face with deep wrinkles. Her makeup only made the lines more visible. No longer lustrous, her hair hung limp to her shoulders. “You’re always too busy for me.”
“I’ve got a backload of cases, Mom.” Not true, but I certainly had plenty of crap to muddle through.
“I know. But you’ve only got one mother. And who knows how long I’ll be around?”
“You’re only sixty-seven.”
My mother sighed with the imagined weight of the world. “I’ve had a hard life, Lucy.”
“I remember. How’s Mack?” Asking about my stepfather was the only way to keep from hanging up on her. The three of us had dinner together the other night, and Mack wound up with chest pains. I spent hours stuck with my mother in the emergency room, half-wishing she was the one in peril. Thankfully Mack was all right, but I still worried about him. He worked too hard and refused to retire.
“He’s fine,” my mother said. “But I have to force him to take it easy. It’s so hard when he won’t listen to me, Lucy.”
Never mind how tough it is for an aging construction worker and lifelong outdoorsman to admit he needed to slow down. It was always about Mother. “Tell him I’ll stop by to see him as soon as I can. I’ve picked up a case, and it’s pretty urgent.”
“Your job is so sad,” my mother said. “I’ll never understand why you chose to work with these kinds of people when you could have been anything.”
“These kinds of
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