Page 23 of Deathtoll
Emma pulled off her oven mitts and leaned in for a closer look. When she stepped back, concern filled her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Cover up my bruises with makeup tomorrow before work? I think I have an old bottle of concealer somewhere. Or I could just wear a turtleneck,” Kate said on second thought.
“Oh.” Emma snapped her fingers. “I forgot to tell you. While you were at work, the eighties called. They want their turtlenecks back.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Sisters don’t let sisters walk out of the house dressed like fashion disasters.”
“And that’s just one of the many reasons why I love having you here.”
“Once people get to know me, they often find that they can’t live without me,” Emma deadpanned before asking, “Any news on your neighbor?”
The second Kate thought of poor Betty, her newfound lightness evaporated. “Funeral’s on Friday.”
“I’ll go with you.” Emma glanced out the window at Betty’s house, which sat dark and silent, a cold husk with life departed. “Do you think her kids will rent out her house? We could be neighbors.” Then she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that sounded really crass. It’s not how I meant it. I…”
“No kids. I think she left the house to her church. She mentioned it the other day when she was talking about her will.”
“Wait. A hot priest could move in?”
“I doubt it. Also, I think her church has a pastor. Who is married.”
“Oh.”
Somuch disappointment imbued in a single word.
Then Emma flinched. “Sorry. That was also inappropriate. I didn’t know her. But I know you liked her. I know none of this is funny.”
Kate offered a sad smile. “Betty would have been the first to make jokes about hot priests.” She moved closer to the oven and looked through the glass. “What are we having? And thank you for cooking, by the way. I feel very spoiled.”
“You’re welcome. Gluten-free pizza. I stopped by the Pizza Palace and bought the dough they sell. Is that okay?”
“Better than okay. I skipped lunch. My stomach is still giving me trouble.”
As the oven dinged on the last word, Emma mittened up again to pull the pizza out.
Kate took care of plates and glasses, and then she put the leftovers of the giant salad they’d had the day before, in the middle of the table.
The scent of tomatoes and cheese saturated the air. Her sister was there. Her new house was becoming a home. For the first time that day, Kate relaxed.
Then Emma passed by the window with their dinner, on her way to the table, and she froze midstep, staring outside.
Kate stepped up behind her. “What is it?”
She saw nothing except darkness and that it was beginning to rain. A dozen or so drops glistened on the glass.
Emma set the pizza on the table, then went back to the window to look again. “Do you believe in ghosts? I swear I just saw Betty walk through her kitchen.” She rubbed her arms. “Goose bump city.”
Kate patted her sister’s shoulder. “Overactive imagination. You watchedSupernaturaltoo much as a kid. I promise you, there are no ghosts over there.”
Chapter Eight
Murph
Murph didn’t enjoy making his old police captain angry, but it couldn’t be helped. He stopped by the station, a square brick building that brought back a lot of memories, first thing Wednesday morning.
Bing was reading through the mail at the front desk, the rest of the main area empty.
