Page 49 of Bargain with Fate
“Did you have Bookstabbers tonight?” Bookstabbers was a book club that met at a coffee shop where the required reading centered around a serial killer.
“No. We moved it to tomorrow night. Too many conflicts tonight.”
“In other words, not everyone read the book yet.”
“Oh, please. We’re lucky if one of us has fully read the book by the time we meet.”
“Then why not extend the dates so everyone has time to finish?”
“Because we’re not there to critique literature. We’re mainly there to gossip and psychoanalyze the murderers and their techniques.”
“Any commonalities between the killers you’ve studied?” Maybe there’d be a nugget in there I could use to solve Darlene’s murder.
“You didn’t come here to chitchat. Let’s get to it, so I can get to bed where I belong.”
“I heard the sound of running water from outside.”
“That was my relaxation app.”
“Does it work?”
“So far it makes me want to pee. Speaking of which, what do you want to drink? Decaf coffee, tea, or something stronger?”She migrated to the liquor cabinet. “I’m in the mood for the third option.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Meemaw released a low cackle. “You sure about that, sweetling? You see the hair on this small mole?” She tapped her cheek. “I’m convinced drinking this potent stuff is what grew it. This one’s so strong, you can’t even pluck it out.”
“Then I’ll stick with a glass of wine, if you have it.”
“I only have red.”
“Suits me.”
She pulled a bottle from the cabinet, pulled the cork out with her teeth, and spat it into the sink. Maybe that was how she’d earned her gold tooth.
“Most serial killers have a certain level of charm,” she said, as she poured wine into two glasses.
“Are you sure about that? I feel like there have to be miserable-looking serial killers out there who alienate everyone they come into contact with.”
“Those are called politicians,” Meemaw said.
“Ever hear of a killer that dresses up in a stocking?”
“A stocking? You mean like bank robbers that wear pantyhose over their heads to avoid recognition?”
“Sort of, except a body stocking that would help someone blend in with the shadows.”
“No one springs to mind.” She peered at me over the rim of her glass. “Is this about Darlene’s killer shadow?”
I heaved a sigh. “Yes. I think it made another appearance tonight. It kicked Nefertiti on her birthday.”
She set down her wine glass. “Well, shit.”
Margie emerged from her bedroom in a matching robe-and-slipper set. “I thought I heard voices,” she said, as part of a sleepy yawn. “What’s going on?”
Meemaw glanced at me, and I nodded. “Maya needs to locate a shadow.”
Margie poured herself a glass of wine. “Whose shadow?”
