Page 47 of Buried Too Deep

She sighed. “I’ve been meaning to fix that.”

“You do your own repair work?”

“Small things, yes. Something’s always breaking in this old house. If I hired a handyman every time, I’d be broke. YouTube is my best friend.”

He laughed. “I thought Tandy was your best friend.”

She made a hem-hawing sound. “There are times that it’s a toss-up. Seriously, she is my best friend and has been since the third grade. She is appalled at the thought of climbing under a sink, though. She lives in a brand-new apartment that comes with a maintenance crew, which makes her very happy.”

Phin moved around her kitchen easily, his dog watching him. “I thought that the folks who lived in this neighborhood were swimming in cash. I’ve worked on a few of their houses. Usually friends of Burke’s.”

That confirmed her assumption that Burke Broussard had some funds. His house in the Quarter was huge, with an unusually large lot.

“Well, some folks here are swimming in cash. Especially the celebrities.” Actors and musicians tended to flock to the Garden District. Cora had spied a few very familiar faces out and about as she’d walked to work. “But I’m not. Like I said, my grandmother left all her money in a trust to care for the house.”

“What happens if you sell it?”

The very thought made her queasy. “I’d get the money from the house and what’s in the trust. I’ve considered it, of course, but I can’t make myself do it.”

He slid a plate in front of her, along with a cup of coffee. The fried egg and toast smelled good and her stomach growled. The scent of the coffee was too good to be true.

“Sorry it’s not fancier,” he said. “I can cook—kind of—but I don’t do it often.” He took the seat beside her and motioned for her to eat. “I installed new locks on all your doors. I’ll come back tomorrow and do the windows. For tonight, the alarm system and Molly will keep you safe.”

She swallowed the bite she’d been chewing. “I wish I knew what the infamous ‘they’ were looking for. Part of me wishes they’d just found it so they’d leave me alone. Not proud of that, but if I’m honest…”

“I get it. You’re not going to feel safe in your home now, and that sucks.” He glanced upward. “I don’t know if whoever broke in got up to the attic. I searched enough to make sure no one was hiding there, but I imagine a thorough search would take a long time. There’s a lot of stuff up there.” He met her gaze, his becoming amused. “I always thought attics packed with antiques were only in the movies until I moved to New Orleans.”

“All six generations of us Winslows have apparently been hoarders. I need to get up there and clean it out. I’m betting there are some antiques I could sell that would pay for some of the upkeep.”

“Undoubtedly.” He glanced up again, wistfully this time.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he wished he were up there searching through the antiques, too. She finished off the meal quickly, wiped her mouth, then stood. “Let’s go up and see what they’re doing.”

Phin grimaced sheepishly. “Was I that obvious?”

“You really were.” She walked alongside him, aware that without her shoes, he was a good bit taller than she was. She liked that a little too much. “Are you into old furniture?”

“I am. My sister and I used to collect old, banged-up tables and chairs and fix them.”

She stopped, looking up to study his face. “Used to? Is your sister…”

“Oh, she’s alive and well.” Discomfort flitted across his face. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “Delores told you that I run when I have my episodes. After that bar fight, the one where I got shot…well, I ran.”

There was pain in his eyes and once again she wanted to fix it. “Why?”

He shrugged. “It was best for all of us. Or so I thought at the time. Let’s go up to the attic.”

Message received. Phin Bishop didn’t want to talk about his family.

Cora could respect that. She changed the subject to another potentially difficult topic. “Why aren’t you a bodyguard, too?”

He flinched. Then pointed to SodaPop, who was following him closer than a shadow. “I’m not predictable. I need help, even though I don’t want to need it.”

It appeared that the admission cost him.

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