Read Online Exhume (Dr. Schwartzman Series Book 1) by Danielle Girard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Danielle Girard
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only medical examiner who opted for the old van. The driver’s side door opened with an earsplitting screech, and Burl descended from the driver’s seat, cowboy boots first. “Evening, Detective,” he said with a nod.
Burl was nearly six feet tall with a thick head of gray hair that was a little long for Charleston standards. He wore a mustache with full chops that he’d supposedly had since he could grow facial hair.
Burl had been with the coroner’s office for thirty-five years.
Never married, no kids, Burl spent his time off riding with a Baptist motorcycle club called the Holy Rollers. Harper was glad he was here. The coroner’s office had a good team, but Burl was old-school. For Frances Pinckney, he felt like the right match.
“Evening, Burl.”
“You up again?” he asked.
“No. I called in and said I’d take it since we knew her,” she told him. She had grown up with Frances’s son, David. She would have to call him. Notifications were the toughest part—somehow even worse on the phone when she couldn’t touch their shoulders or hands, offer some physical contact with the news.
“Heard your mama found her,” he said.
“Harper!” came her mother’s voice as she rushed across the sidewalk toward her daughter. There was an awkwardness to her mother’s movements—stiff and slow. They made her seem much older than sixty-eight.
Kleenex clasped to her mouth, Kathy Leighton hugged Harper tight, pressing her face into her daughter’s shoulder. She smelled of onions and shrimp in Cajun seasoning. Beyond that, Harper smelled fresh-baked biscuits and vanilla custard. In her arms, her mother was soft and vulnerable in a way that was unsettling.
“I can’t believe it’s Frances,” her mother said. “I just saw her at church on Sunday. Sat in the row behind her.”
Harper had missed church to drive Lucy to a volleyball tournament in Myrtle Beach. “I’m so sorry, Mama. You should go home. Is Dad here?”
She pulled away from her daughter and tugged her cotton shirt down over her ample hips as though to pull herself together. “No,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t reach him. He went over to the bar. Tuesdays, you know.”
“Right.” Since retirement, her father joined three other retirees on Tuesdays to play Hearts and drink whiskey. “Okay. I’ll get someone to take you to pick up Daddy.” Harper kept one arm around her mother. She rubbed her shoulder the same way her mama used to rub hers. Months had passed since Lucy let Harper give her a hug. Now she was mothering her mother. Maybe that was just the natural way things shifted.
Her mother shuddered with a cry, and new tears tracked paths down her cheeks. Harper took the Kleenex from her mother and wiped her cheeks. “Tell me what happened.”
“I got a call from her neighbor Kimberly Walker. You know, the one who worked at the diner on and off ’round about when you were in high school. Always friendly and upbeat but always had her nose in someone else’s pie, if you get my meaning. She ended up marrying that widower Teddy Davies who lives right behind Frances. You remember her?”
Harper shook her head.
“Well, she’s been telling me how Frances’s dog barks all evening while she and Teddy are enjoying dinner and their evening TV programs. ’Course it doesn’t bother Teddy because he can’t hear a thing. She was going on about the dog so much, I told her to call me when he started barking.
“So, she calls about eight forty,” her mother went on. “Says Cooper—that’s the dog—was making a terrible ruckus. I told her to go ring the bell, and she said she already did, but Frances wasn’t answering. I don’t know why on God’s green earth she didn’t just look into the window. She’d have seen Frances right there on the floor by the stairs.” She fought back tears. “I’ll never forget her lying on the floor. The angle of her neck, dear God.”
Harper released her mother’s arm with a pat and took
Burl was nearly six feet tall with a thick head of gray hair that was a little long for Charleston standards. He wore a mustache with full chops that he’d supposedly had since he could grow facial hair.
Burl had been with the coroner’s office for thirty-five years.
Never married, no kids, Burl spent his time off riding with a Baptist motorcycle club called the Holy Rollers. Harper was glad he was here. The coroner’s office had a good team, but Burl was old-school. For Frances Pinckney, he felt like the right match.
“Evening, Burl.”
“You up again?” he asked.
“No. I called in and said I’d take it since we knew her,” she told him. She had grown up with Frances’s son, David. She would have to call him. Notifications were the toughest part—somehow even worse on the phone when she couldn’t touch their shoulders or hands, offer some physical contact with the news.
“Heard your mama found her,” he said.
“Harper!” came her mother’s voice as she rushed across the sidewalk toward her daughter. There was an awkwardness to her mother’s movements—stiff and slow. They made her seem much older than sixty-eight.
Kleenex clasped to her mouth, Kathy Leighton hugged Harper tight, pressing her face into her daughter’s shoulder. She smelled of onions and shrimp in Cajun seasoning. Beyond that, Harper smelled fresh-baked biscuits and vanilla custard. In her arms, her mother was soft and vulnerable in a way that was unsettling.
“I can’t believe it’s Frances,” her mother said. “I just saw her at church on Sunday. Sat in the row behind her.”
Harper had missed church to drive Lucy to a volleyball tournament in Myrtle Beach. “I’m so sorry, Mama. You should go home. Is Dad here?”
She pulled away from her daughter and tugged her cotton shirt down over her ample hips as though to pull herself together. “No,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t reach him. He went over to the bar. Tuesdays, you know.”
“Right.” Since retirement, her father joined three other retirees on Tuesdays to play Hearts and drink whiskey. “Okay. I’ll get someone to take you to pick up Daddy.” Harper kept one arm around her mother. She rubbed her shoulder the same way her mama used to rub hers. Months had passed since Lucy let Harper give her a hug. Now she was mothering her mother. Maybe that was just the natural way things shifted.
Her mother shuddered with a cry, and new tears tracked paths down her cheeks. Harper took the Kleenex from her mother and wiped her cheeks. “Tell me what happened.”
“I got a call from her neighbor Kimberly Walker. You know, the one who worked at the diner on and off ’round about when you were in high school. Always friendly and upbeat but always had her nose in someone else’s pie, if you get my meaning. She ended up marrying that widower Teddy Davies who lives right behind Frances. You remember her?”
Harper shook her head.
“Well, she’s been telling me how Frances’s dog barks all evening while she and Teddy are enjoying dinner and their evening TV programs. ’Course it doesn’t bother Teddy because he can’t hear a thing. She was going on about the dog so much, I told her to call me when he started barking.
“So, she calls about eight forty,” her mother went on. “Says Cooper—that’s the dog—was making a terrible ruckus. I told her to go ring the bell, and she said she already did, but Frances wasn’t answering. I don’t know why on God’s green earth she didn’t just look into the window. She’d have seen Frances right there on the floor by the stairs.” She fought back tears. “I’ll never forget her lying on the floor. The angle of her neck, dear God.”
Harper released her mother’s arm with a pat and took
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