Read Online Portrait of a Dead Guy by Larissa Reinhart - Free Book Online

nose. But every glance from the easel to Dustin would zone in on that stupid pocket flap. That’s a lot of glances.
    A light flashed in my periphery and the hairs on my arms rose. I craned my neck toward the door, but saw nothing.
    My head bobbed to the throbbing music while I fixated on the pocket flap. A light flashed again. This time I pivoted toward the darkened doorway and ducked.
    Still nothing.
    Perfectly reasonable to have jitters standing next to a dead man in a coffin in a dark funeral parlor. I also suspected my mind was playing tricks on me so I could procrastinate touching that pocket. The flash was a car light or something. Probably some reflection thingy I didn’t understand because I didn’t pay attention in physics.
    Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the coffin. My hand hovered over the body. I reached into the coffin and tugged the edge of the flap. It caught on something.
    I plunged my hand into the pocket feeling for the obstruction. The flap flipped up, and I pulled out a small gray bag. Tiny hard misshapen objects rolled between my fingers through the soft pouch.
    “Eew!” I dropped the bag, shaking my hand free of the heebie-jeebies. What would feel like that?
    I took another swig of Coke and grabbed hold of my nerves. Just as I lectured myself to stop messing around, a beam of light slid across the wall before me, then swung toward the ceiling.
    That’s no car light. That’s a flashlight.
    The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I began to turn. One crack to my skull and the headphones popped out of my ears. My knees buckled. The Coke foamed and splashed as my body dropped.
    Intense, bright colors exploded in my vision.
    Cad red.
    Titanium white.
    And finally, Mars black.

     

FIVE

     
    “Wake up, Cherry.”
    The loud voice crashed through throbbing pain. I ignored it, instead searching for the pillow of nothingness that slipped away a moment ago.
    “Cherrilyn Tucker, come on now. Time to get up, honey.” The voice bounced inside my head like a pinball on steroids.
    This had to be the worst hangover I’d ever felt. I snarled a reply to the visitor.
    “Whoa. She’ll be fine boys. Hold off on the gurney.”
    The throbbing beat a tattoo in my head. Gurney? I blinked one eye open and focused through the haze of pain. I lay facedown on a wrinkled plastic sheet. My hands were speckled purple, my face sticky wet. I groaned and felt a remnant of drool dribble off my lips. Wiping my chin on my shoulder, I considered the owner of the voice. A slice of panic cut through me, but I rolled over anyway. Uncle Will’s face loomed above mine. I began to push myself up on my elbows. He shoved me down.
    “What in the hell is going on?” I struggled to sit up, but the sheriff kept a firm hand on my shoulder. “What happened?”
    “You tell me.”
    I glanced around the viewing room, careful of my aching head. My easel and paints were strewn over the floor. The coffin lay almost tipped on its side, Dustin’s body half dumped on the table. His jacket and pants looked dark in spots.
    My breath pulled tight in my chest. “Is that blood?”
    Will kneeled next to me on the plastic sheet, his hand draped on my shoulder. He glanced behind him and shook his head. “No. I think it’s Coke. There’s a bottle on the floor.”
    I groaned again and gingerly felt the lump on the back of my head.
    “Are you okay, Cherry? What are you doing here?”
    “I don’t know. My head hurts. I think somebody hit me.” I shuddered. Dustin looked like a Halloween prop. “I don’t know how his coffin tipped. This place is a mess.” I turned from the dumped corpse to my overturned easel and paints. “All that paint I mixed! My canvas! There’s spilled paint on it. I’m going to have to stretch another one.”
    “Cherrilyn, I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing at Cooper’s?” Will looked past me toward the door. I pushed up on my elbows to follow his gaze. Lights blazed in the lobby as two deputies