The Darkest Corner (Gravediggers #1)(14)

"Well, shit." It looked like she'd be showering in the dark. And she definitely needed a shower, considering the fine sheen of sweat that covered her body. Even with modern conveniences like AC, it was still an old house and heat rose to the third floor.

She moved to the window and stood to the side, slightly behind the curtain. She didn't figure anyone who had to get up this early needed to be greeted with the sight of her naked body. She had the pale skin of a true redhead, to the extent that Henry had once shielded his eyes because he'd said her paleness was like staring into the sun. He'd been kidding-she was almost positive-but there was no need to be a glowing beacon in the window to anyone who glanced up.

The view from the top of the funeral home was something she'd miss if she left. It was the best view in town, not because downtown was especially nice to look at, but because it was interesting to watch the comings and goings of people in their daily lives. Watching from above sure as heck was more fun than being down there in the middle of them all.

The Queen Anne Victorian mansion, which had once been a combination of the Jessups' family home and the funeral parlor, sat at one end of Main Street. At the other end was a Gothic-style courthouse, complete with ugly gargoyles and creepy statues of Justice and Mercy.

When the funeral home had started encroaching on their living space, the Jessups had built a new mansion outside of the city limits. The funeral business had boomed in the twenties, when prohibition and public hangings were all the rage. It had been convenient to put the bodies in a wagon and wheel them down the street in a public procession to the funeral home.

Nowadays, the most exciting thing she'd seen from her window was Ernastine Forster get into a tussle with Earl Twitty over the last handicapped parking space. Ernastine had used her battle tank of a Buick to push him right out of the spot. And then she'd popped him in the nose when he got out of the car to confront her.

Headlights glared through droplets of water as a vehicle turned onto Main Street, coming straight toward the funeral home. The closer the vehicle got, the closer she moved to the window, squinting so she could see better. If she wasn't mistaken, that was her body transport van.

Her skin flushed with annoyance and she could feel the blood rush to her face. She'd always cursed her redhead's complexion, but at least people could tell in advance when she was irritated or angry.

"What the hell are they up to?" Tess fumed.

The last time she checked, she was the one in charge of the funeral home, and she wanted an explanation as to why they'd taken company property out for a joyride in the middle of the night. Good grief, she didn't really know anything about the men other than their names and a few things she'd picked up from conversation here and there. What if they'd been out drinking? What if they were using her van to sell drugs? She could get in a whole heap of trouble and never even know what hit her until it was too late.

She decided not having hot water was the least of her worries, so she hopped in a tepid shower, soaped, rinsed, and brushed her teeth to save time, and then hopped back out again just a few minutes later. Since she'd be working on Mrs. Schriever for most of the day, she pulled on jeans and an old button-down oxford shirt in a blue pinstripe. It was soft and a little frayed around the collar and cuffs, but she'd keep the sleeves rolled up. It wasn't like Mrs. Schriever was going to complain about her sartorial choices.



       
         
       
        

Tess had never been one for makeup, but she slathered on moisturizer and piled her wet hair on top of her head, pinning it with a couple of bobby pins. It probably wouldn't stay, as her hair had a mind of its own, but trying was half the battle.

She grabbed a flashlight from her nightstand drawer and headed into the darkness of the house. When Eve had done renovations, she hadn't touched the top two floors. Tess wasn't sure if she was trying to save money, or if it was her way of showing her irritation that George Jessup had made sure Tess was there to stay. Either way, the old and new didn't mix all that well, and it was probably a good thing no one but her ever ventured past the first floor.

The floors and wallpaper were original to the house, and the hallways were cramped and narrow. And when it was raining, like it was now, it smelled like a hundred-plus years of moldy, wet house. The only rooms on the third floor were the large bedroom she used, which had once been the nursery, an attached sitting area, and a bathroom that had knocking pipes and low water pressure.

She stifled a sneeze at the small landing on the second floor, and then squeaked as something nipped her ankle.