Read Online Greedy Bones by Carolyn Haines - Free Book Online Page B

investigator that I'd acquired over the past year and a half.
    Tomorrow, I would move mountains.
    But tonight, I wasn't even able to stay awake long enough to heat milk. I put the saucepan, unheated, on the floor for the dogs, dragged myself upstairs, and fell into bed.

7

    I woke up to the sounds of Sweetie and Chablis racing up and down the stairs. It took me a moment to realize it was after nine. I'd overslept. The bed was so wonderfully comfortable that even though I had much to do, I hated to peel back the covers.
    The thought of Tinkie, pale, exhausted, and standing at a hospital window guarding Oscar, was like a Hot-Shot against my thigh. Guilt-ridden, I bolted out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen to put on some coffee. I was ravenous.
    Rummaging through the refrigerator to see what I might eat, I found only unidentifiable food items. I threw them in the trash. Thoughts of breakfast at Millie's made my mouth water. I'd grab some eggs and something for Tinkie and then begin my investigation of the Carlisle place.
    The brewing coffee smelled delicious, and I stood with my cup in hand waiting for it to finish. The first wave of nausea hit me without warning. I made it to the bathroom off the kitchen before I threw up.
    Hanging on to the toilet, fear traveled through my marrow. I fought against it. Since I hadn't gone near the Carlisle place, I couldn't be seriously sick. It wasn't possible.
    The nausea passed as quickly as it had come, and I wiped my face and went upstairs to brush my teeth. By the time I got to the second floor, I felt fine. The idea of coffee was once again tantalizing.
    Since I was already upstairs, I showered and polished off my morning routine in under ten minutes. Dressed in my favorite black jeans and a red shirt with black geometric designs that I'd picked up in a Los Angeles boutique, I was ready to start my day.
    I made sure Sweetie and Chablis had gone out to whiz and were back in, poured a go-cup of black coffee, and hit the road.
    Millie's was bustling, and I was unprepared for the wave of oohs and aahs that erupted when I walked in the door. The attention was heavenly. Two teenage girls actually asked for my autograph. When I explained that the movie had been destroyed and wouldn't be released, they didn't care. They'd heard about me, and in their books, I was celebrity enough.
    Millie plopped a plate heaping enough for a farmworker down in front of me with a cup of hot coffee and a glass of milk.
    "The potpie was delicious, Millie. But why are you feeding me like I'm a starving indigent?"
    "You don't look good, Sarah Booth. You need sleep or food. I'm not selling sleep, so I'm piling on food."
    Her logic was infallible. "Thanks." I tucked into the eggs and grits. "I got plenty of sleep last night. And I'm eating a lot of food."
    She lifted my chin so that my face was better illuminated. "Your color isn't good."
    A stab of fear zinged through me. I couldn't be sick. Not me. "I'm fine."
    She nodded. "Worried about Tinkie, I'm sure."
    That had to be it. Worry did strange things to the Delaney women. Stories abounded of tilted uteruses, snarled Fallopian tubes, ectopic pregnancies, and hydra-like endometriosis, not to mention the dreaded "fallen" uterus, as if the organ itself had committed a sin worthy of being cast down. All of these much-discussed ailments were laid at the feet of anxiety and worry. Genetics might dictate eye color or refined hands or the handsome arch of a foot, but worry and anxiety wrecked the breeding potential of Delaney women.
    Millie put a glass of water on the table, and I snapped out of my mental family medical album. "I am worried about Tinkie. I'll take her some breakfast when I leave."
    "Sure thing. I'll be back." Millie swung through the cafe, refilling coffee cups and dropping a smile or an "I'll get that, sugar" on her regulars.
    I was looking straight at the door when Bonnie Louise walked in, her shapely legs tan and perfect in a pair of shorts and