Home>>read Home for the Haunting free online

Home for the Haunting(61)

By:Juliet Blackwell


She and Dog appeared to be completely absorbed by the food. The fact that Luz remained lithe and willowy, while I gained a pound just looking at the beignets, was one of the mysteries of the universe. It said a lot about how much I valued Luz’s friendship that I was able to get past it.

As for Dog, he was . . . Dog. He adored his people, and he adored his food. I thought it best for all concerned not to ask him to choose between the two.

“Hey, enough with the beignets already,” I said at last. “I need you to put on your therapist hat. You should have seen Ray. And Hugh . . . That poor guy’s been through so much.”

“Sorry to interrupt your aberrant need to track down every killer in San Francisco, but signs here are pointing to an accidental-on-purpose overdose. Addicts often have a death wish, Mel. They may not consciously choose to kill themselves, but deep down they aren’t too worried about floating away to the big crack house in the sky on a wave of drug-induced pleasure.”

She took another huge bite. The phrase “floating away” reminded me of something Monty had said.

“You would understand better if you hadn’t skipped the drug-experimentation phase of your rebellious adolescent years,” Luz added.

“Hey, I rebelled plenty. Pot gives me a headache. And I don’t like the smell.”

“As drugs go, pot’s more like alcohol or tobacco. I’m talking the heavy stuff.”

“Pills scare me.”

She nodded. “That’s right—I remember you wouldn’t even take the pain pills that time you dislocated your shoulder.”

“I’d had a glass of wine already—seemed like a dangerous combination.”

Luz waggled a finger at me. “Wine, schmine. You don’t like to lose control; that’s the real issue. You were afraid that if you were under the influence, you’d say something you’d regret.”

I scoffed. “Not true. My life’s an open book.”

Luz snorted. “Everybody has secrets. Nothing wrong with it. Nobody needs to know what we’re thinking all the time.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve been very open about a lot of things.”

“Even about Graham?”

I glared at her. “Why are we talking about me and my many faults?”

“Why do you frame it so negatively? You’re a human being. We’re faulty. It’s part of our charm.” Luz picked up another beignet. “Speaking of drugs, I think these beignets must be coated in an addictive substance. Oddly enough, I have no problem with that.”

“It’s just sugar, but I agree with you—it’s addictive.”

“Speaking of Graham, weren’t you picking him up today? How was the big reunion  ?”

“He’d only been gone for five days.”

“Uh-huh. That well, huh?”

“He was being bossy.”

“About?”

I shrugged. “He’s worried about the ghost thing. And the dead body thing.”

“Gee, that sounds out of line. Why would someone who really cared about you be worried that you’re once again involved in death and mayhem?”

I glared at her. “I thought we were talking about the Lawrence tragedy.”

“Okay. The thing with this fellow Ray is he’s sad about something real. It’s a tragic situation. There’s no way to reframe it or somehow see it in a different light. The original crime was horrific, and like all crimes it affected everyone it touched: certainly the family most, but also the neighbors, the first responders, even little kids who sing songs about it decades later. Some people, rare people, are able to respond to tragedy by opening up their hearts and giving . . . but even then, the hurt never goes away. Sometimes it consumes people.”

“I hate that I think you’re right,” I said.

Luz shrugged. “Some things in life are just sad, Mel, and there’s no way around it. That’s why it’s important to eat beignets.”

“Walk me through that logical leap?”

“A key to emotional health is to balance sadness and stress with pleasure. Some people like to exercise. I prefer to eat sugar-coated, deep-fried pastry.”

“Ah, it’s all clear to me now.”

“But speaking of being consumed by sadness . . . If Linda really was murdered, you might look into who stood to gain from her death.”

“That’s always the place to start,” I agreed. “Who had motive. But Linda didn’t own anything except half of the house. I can’t picture Hugh killing his sister just to gain complete control. Besides, he told me Linda had long ago given him power of attorney. What would be the point?”