Read Online Bones and Roses by Eileen; Goudge - Free Book Online Page A

“Arthur.” I grab his arm as he’s turning away, forcing him to look at me. “You know there’s no government agency, right? That it’s all in your head?”
    I see a flash of the old Arthur in that instant. It’s hard to believe, looking at him now, but my brother was once normal. That was before he started hearing voices in his head and subliminal messages on the radio and TV. It began the year after he graduated Stanford University when he was working in research and development at Microsoft. I got him to a shrink—it wasn’t easy, let me tell you; he can be really stubborn—and after a battery of tests, we had a diagnosis: paranoid schizophrenia. Eight years later, thanks to a regimen of meds and regular monitoring by Dr. Sandefur, he holds his own for the most part, if his hold is shaky at best.
    Arthur stares at me, green eyes blinking rapidly behind his Clark Kent glasses. It’s not that he’s unfeeling, but stressful situations cause him to retreat into his fantasy world. “You think I’m making this up? I assure you I am not. Our lives would be in danger if you spoke to anyone about this. You MUST keep it confidential.”
    I suppress a sigh. “Fine. But if I find out I’m being followed by some spook in a trench coat, I’ll know who to blame.” I extract the case of Mountain Dew from the cart and replace it with a six-pack.
    â€œAny theories?” he asks in a thoughtful voice as we’re rounding the corner into the next aisle.
    â€œAbout what?” I ask warily, not sure if he was referencing the “spooks” or yet another crackpot theory.
    â€œWho killed Mom.”
    I’m startled by his reply. Arthur’s mind is like a Jack-in-the-box: You never know what’s going to pop out. “Her boyfriend, who else?” I lower my voice. “He was probably the last person to see her alive.”
    Arthur pauses, wearing a troubled look. “Detective Breedlove asked about Dad, too.”
    I bristle at the mention of Spence. “Detective Breedlove can kiss my ass,” I say, tossing a roll of paper towels in the cart as Arthur watches distractedly. If it’s not edible, he’s not interested. “He’s not even convinced it was foul play. Hello. Like a dead body ends up in a trunk by accident. ”
    â€œSounds as if you don’t like him very much,” he observes mildly.
    I pluck a spray bottle of Windex from a shelf of cleaning supplies, throwing it in the cart with enough vigor to have its contents—the blue of Spence’s artificially-enhanced eyes—foaming. “We went to school together. He was a jerk back then and he still is.”
    â€œSo it wasn’t personal?”
    â€œOh, it was personal all right.”
    â€œWhy, what happened?”
    â€œWe hooked up at a party one time. Biggest mistake of my life.”
    â€œOh.” Thankfully Arthur doesn’t press for details.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.” I’m betrayed by the bitterness in my voice. “Though tell him that. Spence Breedlove would love nothing more than an excuse to pin Mom’s murder on me.” A gray-haired lady pushing her shopping cart shoots me an alarmed look before hurrying past us.
    â€œInteresting. Most males find sexual encounters to be a pleasurable experience, so if he’s angry at you, there must be another reason.” Arthur is logical to a fault when his mind isn’t on one of its tangents.
    I pause, lowering my voice. “You could say that. I torched his car.”
    Arthur’s eyes widen. “Why?”
    â€œIn retaliation. And because I was sixteen and sixteen-year-olds aren’t known for doing the mature thing.” I was also drunk at the time . “Look, I’m not proud of it. I was lucky he didn’t have me arrested then.”
    â€œDid Dad know?”
    â€œNo.” If our dad had been paying