Read Online Dead for the Money by Peg Herring - Free Book Online Page B

morning he had been pretty nice, but it was obvious he had no idea what to say to her. Arnold the Mouth had tried to help, but he was as clueless as Bud. He kept asking Brodie if she was all right, which had to be the dumbest question ever. She listened for a while, learned that the funeral would be tomorrow, and escaped before Arlis started in again on her visit to the mortuary. Arlis had insisted on choosing the casket, the flowers, the music, and the readings from scripture. Bud had seemed relieved to let her deal with those things, but Brodie knew Arlis had done it for herself, the way she did everything.
    “I made all the arrangements,” she would tell the guests. “After all, he was my brother.”
    And your meal ticket , Brodie would have added if she ever spoke in Arlis’ presence.
    She had watched Bud, trying to figure him out. He was everyone’s meal ticket now, even hers. As trustee, Bud had control of Brodie’s life for the next five years. She didn’t know him well, but she knew there was little chance that he liked her.
    For one thing, she had been a real pain as a kid, playing dumb, sometimes horrible, pranks on people. Bud had been the recipient of a few of them—not that many, she tried to tell herself. He had lived with Gramps when she first came, but their age difference kept them from interacting much. Bud had been into cars and girls at the high school, not half-wild three-year-olds with the table manners of an orangutan. He had ignored Brodie whenever possible. Then he went off to college, becoming one of the people who visited from time to time and had to be avoided.
    When she asked about Bud’s parents, Gramps had been truthful but not forthcoming. “My son did not marry well,” was all he said. “When he died, I thought it best that Bud live with me.”
    “You rescued him, like you rescued me?”
    He smiled. “Something like that.” Brodie pictured Gramps, swooping down like an avenging angel on Bud’s mother and taking the child home with him.
    So Bud had been unwanted, like Brodie. But unlike her, Bud was useful and normal. Gramps’ charity cases had come out fifty-fifty: one worthwhile, one not so much.
    A funny moaning sound came from behind her, but she could not turn from her present position to see what it was. It had to be wind in the pines, but it was kind of creepy. At the same time, her arms began to ache from the strain of holding onto the fence rail. Admitting that she was not going to do the right thing and off herself, she jumped back over the fence. As her feet hit the ground on the safe side of the fence, Brodie saw something in front of her. It was nebulous—no, they were nebulous: two misty shapes that looked vaguely human.
    Then they were gone. A wave of nausea hit her like a punch in the gut. She staggered under the weight of it, put one hand to her head, the other to her stomach. A few seconds later, a second phantom punch sent her staggering to one side. Her stomach turned queasy, like the time she’d eaten a whole loaf of uncooked bread dough. Her head filled with the sound of swarming bees. She did not understand any of Mildred’s assurance that everything was going to be all right. In fact, for Brodie, everything felt even worse than it had before.
     
     
    E NTRY HAD BEEN DIFFICULT , and Seamus paused to regroup. His worst fears had manifested in one place and time. Their first attempt had been repelled by the girl’s essence, a mix of hormones, misfiring axons, and some sort of cellular rebellion. Like a prize fighter on the ropes, Seamus had had to shake his metaphorical head and reconnoiter. Their prospective host was off-balance from the first attempt. “Again!” he ordered Mildred, and they had tried a second time. Although it felt like they would be shot backward again, the girl’s body gave way at the last second, and they were inside.
    Seamus had been relieved until Mildred started yapping. “Shut up!” He had never in his life spoken so