Page 46 of Buried Too Deep

Antoine lit up at the thought. “I’ll take a look.”

Burke shook his head. “Hold on, Antoine. Cora, was your mother as thorough and organized as you are?”

“Not really. Sometimes, when it was necessary. Like, with the client files she copied for Grandmother and her friends. But not usually. She’d pack everything in boxes, all willy-nilly, and never labeled them. She’d always mean to but would get distracted. That drove me crazy when I got older, and I’d go behind her and write on the boxes. But not after my father left. I was too young then. One day I came home from school and everything in my father’s office was gone. Mama said she’d put it all in the attic, and for me to leave it be. Grandmother told her that she should have thrown it all away, but Mama said she wasn’t ready yet. Why?”

“Because she told you one of the stacks was for the clients,” Burke answered. “Maybe she kept the other stack for herself. Just in case. We’d like to search for anything she might have kept.”

Cora gestured in the general direction of the stairs. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Phin said. Cora hadn’t eaten more than half a cracker. “Antoine, you know the way to the attic, right?”

Antoine nodded. “Scanned it for bugs.”

“Then get started searching. Cora hasn’t eaten since that sandwich at Burke’s house.”

Molly’s lips twitched. “You taking over for Joy, Phin? Feeding everyone?” But the question was asked so sweetly that Phin didn’t take offense.

“Someone’s got to.”

Molly held up her fingers, counting. “We have shrimp and grits, shrimp étouffée, gumbo, and some fried fish. What would you like?”

Cora grimaced. “Um, I’m allergic to shellfish. Like…super allergic. I’m not great with fish, either. I have an EpiPen. Sorry.”

Molly exhaled. “Well, shoot. I didn’t know that. Everything I brought tonight might kill you. How have you lived in New Orleans all these years and not keeled over dead?”

“I’m very, very careful and I don’t eat out often. Last time I accidentally ate some shrimp, I ended up in the ER. Not fun.”

Phin pointed to the cheese and fruit platter. “Eat some of that while I fry you an egg.”

Anything more than that was beyond his skill set.

Molly rose. “Cora, I’m to be your bodyguard, if you’re okay with that. For now, Phin’s got you. I’m going up to help Antoine search.”

Cora sighed. “Thank you. I want to say I don’t need the help, but I do.”

Something they had in common, Phin thought as he glanced down at his dog. He didn’t want to need the help, but he did.

The difference was that when this was over, Cora could continue independently, but Phin would still be dependent on SodaPop.

Swallowing his own sigh, he got up to find a frying pan. If keeping Cora fed was to be his contribution, he’d do one hell of a job.

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 8:15 P.M.

Alone in the kitchen with Phin and the two dogs, Cora watched the man standing at her stove, frying her an egg. Affection squeezed at her heart. He was sweet.

And he looked good standing at her stove.

You’re perving on his ass.

Yes, she was. After a years-long dry spell, she felt relief that she was interested at all. She’d thought she’d lost that spark.

Turned out she hadn’t had the right man standing at her stove, frying her an egg.

“What were you doing under my sink?” she asked after eating more cheese and fruit. She was hungry and Tandy was right. If she let herself get too hungry, Cora became downright unpleasant.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Leaky pipe.”

---