Read Online Did You Declare the Corpse? by Patricia Sprinkle - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Sprinkle
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dollars to see how much I’d spent, but the figure soon reached an altitude that made it hard for me to breathe, so I gave up and concentrated on excuses I could give Joyce for exceeding our one-bag limit.
I found her standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel in too much of a dither to care.
Dorothy had disappeared.
“She went on the bus as far as the first stop, then left without saying a word. Nobody remembers even seeing her after we got off. We looked and looked, but never did find her.” Joyce peered up and down the street, clutching her coat to her throat.
The wind was sharp and fierce, carrying that raw blend of dampness, diesel and industry that is Glasgow’s peculiar odor. I shivered beside her, more than ready to go inside and find a cup of hot tea, but I hated to leave her standing there alone, worrying. “Sherry finally insisted that we go on without her. She said Dorothy is a grown woman and knows where we are staying, so she can find her way back to the hotel. But—”
But Dorothy didn’t look like a woman with much experience in taking care of herself in strange cities. “What did Marcia say?”
“Marcia decided to stay here and rest this afternoon.” Joyce peered up and down the street again. “I haven’t bothered her yet.” She took a few steps one way, then the other, balled her fists and shook them. “Drat! I don’t know what to do. Do you think I ought to call the police?” Were her teeth chattering from fear, cold, or both?
“Not yet,” I advised. “Come on inside and get something hot to drink. It’s still light out, and surely she’ll get a cab back to the hotel.” I tried not to think about women abducted in broad daylight from city malls.
Joyce looked prepared to stand there all night if necessary. “I really want people to stick to the program. I’m not going to be able to manage this tour if people keep charging off on their own.” Her voice was grim, and she glanced down at my new suitcase.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I simply had to have some warmer clothes. I’ll stay right with you the rest of the way.” I headed upstairs with my purchases. She remained on the sidewalk.
I tried out Walker’s cell phone before tea, to see if Cricket’s mother had heard from the men. “Haven’t heard a word yet,” Martha said cheerfully, “but they will have barely gotten to the Gulf by now. Don’t you waste your trip worrying about them, Mac. They’ll be fine.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
She laughed. “Both. But let’s make a deal. I’ll worry and you have fun. You hear me?” I went down to tea thinking that the only thing better than raising two good sons is having both of them marry women you can love.
Laura had gone down before me and was waiting in the lobby.
“Sorry,” I told her. “I was calling home. The store is fine, but there’s no word from the sailors yet.”
“MacDonald Motors is limping along tolerably well without me, too. Downright humbling, isn’t it, how well they can do without us?”
“And Ben?”
“Him, too.” She tried to sound casual, but she was rosy and had a smile on her lips. “Let’s eat.”
Joyce, still watching for Dorothy, declined to join us. “Marcia is having dinner sent to her room,” she told us. “Go on in and find yourselves a table.”
The hotel was old but very comfortable, and the dining room was large, dark and elegant. If the food lived up to the decor, Joyce hadn’t lied about our future meals being better than our first. Brandi, looking chic and expensive in a black sweater and slacks with her hair piled on her head, sat with Kenny and Sherry at a table for six. Since Sherry also wore black, the table looked ready for a funeral—an unfortunate thought with Dorothy still missing. I was glad to see a red jacket over the chair next to Brandi, where she must be saving Jim a seat.
I was about to head their way when Laura pointed out, “If we sit there,
I found her standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel in too much of a dither to care.
Dorothy had disappeared.
“She went on the bus as far as the first stop, then left without saying a word. Nobody remembers even seeing her after we got off. We looked and looked, but never did find her.” Joyce peered up and down the street, clutching her coat to her throat.
The wind was sharp and fierce, carrying that raw blend of dampness, diesel and industry that is Glasgow’s peculiar odor. I shivered beside her, more than ready to go inside and find a cup of hot tea, but I hated to leave her standing there alone, worrying. “Sherry finally insisted that we go on without her. She said Dorothy is a grown woman and knows where we are staying, so she can find her way back to the hotel. But—”
But Dorothy didn’t look like a woman with much experience in taking care of herself in strange cities. “What did Marcia say?”
“Marcia decided to stay here and rest this afternoon.” Joyce peered up and down the street again. “I haven’t bothered her yet.” She took a few steps one way, then the other, balled her fists and shook them. “Drat! I don’t know what to do. Do you think I ought to call the police?” Were her teeth chattering from fear, cold, or both?
“Not yet,” I advised. “Come on inside and get something hot to drink. It’s still light out, and surely she’ll get a cab back to the hotel.” I tried not to think about women abducted in broad daylight from city malls.
Joyce looked prepared to stand there all night if necessary. “I really want people to stick to the program. I’m not going to be able to manage this tour if people keep charging off on their own.” Her voice was grim, and she glanced down at my new suitcase.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I simply had to have some warmer clothes. I’ll stay right with you the rest of the way.” I headed upstairs with my purchases. She remained on the sidewalk.
I tried out Walker’s cell phone before tea, to see if Cricket’s mother had heard from the men. “Haven’t heard a word yet,” Martha said cheerfully, “but they will have barely gotten to the Gulf by now. Don’t you waste your trip worrying about them, Mac. They’ll be fine.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
She laughed. “Both. But let’s make a deal. I’ll worry and you have fun. You hear me?” I went down to tea thinking that the only thing better than raising two good sons is having both of them marry women you can love.
Laura had gone down before me and was waiting in the lobby.
“Sorry,” I told her. “I was calling home. The store is fine, but there’s no word from the sailors yet.”
“MacDonald Motors is limping along tolerably well without me, too. Downright humbling, isn’t it, how well they can do without us?”
“And Ben?”
“Him, too.” She tried to sound casual, but she was rosy and had a smile on her lips. “Let’s eat.”
Joyce, still watching for Dorothy, declined to join us. “Marcia is having dinner sent to her room,” she told us. “Go on in and find yourselves a table.”
The hotel was old but very comfortable, and the dining room was large, dark and elegant. If the food lived up to the decor, Joyce hadn’t lied about our future meals being better than our first. Brandi, looking chic and expensive in a black sweater and slacks with her hair piled on her head, sat with Kenny and Sherry at a table for six. Since Sherry also wore black, the table looked ready for a funeral—an unfortunate thought with Dorothy still missing. I was glad to see a red jacket over the chair next to Brandi, where she must be saving Jim a seat.
I was about to head their way when Laura pointed out, “If we sit there,
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