Read Online Summer of the Dead by Julia Keller - Free Book Online Page B

reluctant cook, but she tried to bring Shirley decent dinners from JP’s: chicken, fish, green beans, steamed broccoli. The next morning, Bell would find the white Styrofoam shell wedged in the kitchen trash, the food inside looking just the way it looked when Jackie LeFevre, owner and operator of JP’s, had put it there with a spatula and two fingers. Shirley had tossed the meal without tasting it. Hell, she probably hadn’t even opened the container.
    â€œHow do you feel?” Bell asked. Trying to get along. Setting a cordial tone so that they might have a decent conversation. For once. “If you want to rest a little, we can talk later.”
    â€œDon’t matter.”
    Bell let some silence build up in the room. She hoped her sister might say something—anything—that would give Bell a clue about what she was feeling these days. And why she seemed determined to sabotage any attempts to make smooth her reentry into life outside of prison.
    â€œHe confessed,” Bell finally said. “The guy from last night. He’s in jail. It was a fight over a woman. Just like you said.”
    â€œFigures.” Shirley’s hand twitched. She looked around suspiciously, having noticed that the objects on top of the coffee table had been rearranged. “Where’s the ashtray? Forget it. I’ll just go outside.”
    â€œNo, hold on.” Bell didn’t want her sister to get up. Didn’t want another conversation between them to end prematurely, cut off by some dumb excuse. So she rose, retrieved it from the kitchen, returned. “Just put it in the dishwasher yesterday. Tidying up.” She set down the square glass ashtray, reuniting it with the pack of Pall Malls and the green plastic Bic lighter that seemed to have taken up permanent residence here, at least when they weren’t shoved in the breast pocket of Shirley’s flannel shirt.
    â€œSo,” Bell said. “We need to get a few things straight, okay? I mean, I’ve tried to be patient. Tried to give you your space. But after last night—well, there’ve got to be some changes. Some give and take.”
    No response, so Bell went on. “I’m not asking for a lot here, Shirley. Just some regular hours. And a better attitude. Carla’s coming, okay? And like it or not, you’ll be setting an example. I need to know where you are at night. And the job search—how’s it going?”
    Shirley scowled. “How do you think it’s going? World’s just dying to hire somebody with a record.”
    â€œYou’re getting help, though, right? From your parole officer? With résumé writing, job-placement assistance, things like that?”
    â€œYeah. Things like that.” Shirley, restless, shifted her feet. “You know what, Belfa? After they found that old fart in his driveway, I got a call from my PO. Asking where I was. Asking if I could account for my whereabouts that night. Asking if I had witnesses. Thank God I did.”
    â€œIt wasn’t personal.” Bell had known that call was coming. She hadn’t interfered, realizing that it was better for Shirley in the long run if she didn’t. “Standard procedure. With your felony conviction, he’s required to—”
    â€œYeah. Standard procedure to make me feel like a friggin’ criminal.”
    â€œI know it’s hard.”
    The scowl intensified. Shirley triple-tapped her cigarette in the vicinity of the ashtray. “Anyway,” she said, “I got a job.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œYeah. You’re surprised, right? Nice. Real nice. Appreciate that.”
    Bell ignored the sarcasm. Kept moving forward. “When do you start?”
    â€œAlready started.”
    â€œThen where—?”
    â€œIt’s not some lame-ass thing at a fast food place, okay? It’s not flipping burgers.” A cold, knowing stare. “Which is what you were thinking,