Read Online Bloody Kin by Margaret Maron - Free Book Online Page A

don’t use this room much, do you?”
    She knew very well that when Lacy was here alone, he liked to hole up in the kitchen. That old-fashioned room was long enough to accommodate dining table, lounge chair, leather couch and the color television she and Jake had given him for Christmas two years ago. With the wood range for heat, the kitchen was cozy and cheerful all winter. In summer, it was well shaded and open windows on three sides provided cool cross-ventilation.
    The front parlor was rarely used, but Lacy continued to glare. “Where’re these things going?”
    “Out,” Kate said bluntly. “They’re practically falling apart.”
    “You ain’t throwing away my mammy’s settee,” warned Lacy. “Her and Pa got that set for a wedding present from her daddy. They’ve stood right here in this parlor since the day they was bought.”
    “Then it’s time they had a change of scenery,” Kate almost snapped. Then she remembered how difficult all these changes must be for the old farmer and she apologized instead.
    “I’m sorry, Lacy. I should have asked you first. I really do need this space, but if you want to save them—”
    “They can go in my room if they ain’t fine enough for your taste,” he said. “Less’n you’re aiming to throw me out, too?”
    Kate gritted her teeth. “I’ll help you carry them up,” she said tightly. Together, they maneuvered the settee up the wide stairs into Lacy’s bedroom in the back corner of the house. The only other time she’d ever entered that room was the first day Jake showed her over the house, and she’d forgotten its Spartan bachelor simplicity.
    The brass double bed was covered with several patchwork quilts, no spread. There was a rag rug on the bare boards next to the bed. A painted bedside table held a lamp, an electric clock, an ashtray, and a couple of pill bottles. Against the opposite wall, between the side windows, was a tall five-drawer dresser and mirror. On top of the dresser lay an opened carton of cigarettes, a worn comb and brush set, a Bible, and a triple-fold picture frame.
    The central photograph was a hand-tinted portrait of Lacy’s mother and father. The right section held a picture of his brother Andrew and Andrew’s wife Jane; the left was an enlarged snapshot of Jake as he sat on the top step of the front porch with the dogs nuzzling his hands.
    A straight-back wooden chair by the rear windows completed the furnishings.
    The room felt chilly and the air was stale, as if it had been breathed in and out for months on end until nothing was left, only a faint smell of dry flesh, cigarette ash, and sun-faded net curtains over sealed windows.
    Lacy seemed uncomfortable with Kate in his room and gave her no time to sightsee. As soon as they had placed the settee next to the chair, he held the door for her to leave.
    He carried up the banished chair and lamp alone without comment, but balked again when Kate told him the sideboard had to go, too.
    “That come from Gilead,” he protested.
    So Kate knew.
    Patricia had tried to wheedle Jake out of the sugar chest and lamp stand while she was restoring Gilead, but when Kate later offered to return the sideboard, Patricia had refused in mock horror.
    “All Gilead’s geese weren’t swans, honey,” she’d giggled, “and that thing’s a real turkey.”
    “It’s too heavy to carry upstairs,” said Kate, “but maybe we could slide it out to the hall and I’ll get the movers to do something with it tomorrow.”
    Despite his age, Lacy was still strong, yet even with Kate’s help, the solid oak hulk resisted mightily. The floor beneath shrieked as they managed to heave it a few inches away from the wall.
    “Can I help?” asked a pleasant masculine voice.
    Kate straightened to see a vaguely familiar man standing outside the parlor door. Just under six feet, he had light brown hair, a medium frame and a diffident, slightly lopsided smile. He wore well-cut gray slacks and a light tweed jacket