Charlaine Harris - Poppy Done to Death

I realized that in all the fluster of his arrival I hadn’t asked Phillip exactly why he’d turned up on my doorstep. He’d said that my dad had cheated on his mother, which was all too easy to imagine, but that just didn’t seem like a motivation for hitchhiking across the country. I thought something more must have happened for Phillip to taken such drastic action… though it probably hadn’t seemed as scary to Phillip as it would to me, I suddenly realized. At his age, maybe Phillip didn’t appreciate the evils of the world.

On the other hand, he had discovered at the age of six that bad things could and did happen to him, and I didn’t know if that was a lesson that could be forgotten, no matter how young the learner. When he’d lived in Atlanta, I’d kept him for the weekend fairly often, so my dad and Betty Jo could have some couple time. And I’d enjoyed that a lot. But one weekend, Phillip had been abducted while he’d been staying with me, and he would have been killed in a horrible way if I hadn’t shown up when I did; actually, if it hadn’t been for Robin, Phillip and I both would have been killed. I’d bought us a little time, and the crisis had passed, but since then, my dad and Betty Jo had acted as though I’d caused the incident. They’d maintained that seeing me would further traumatize Phillip, and by moving to California and finding jobs there, they’d made sure I’d have to keep my distance. I’d only renewed un-monitored contact with my brother when he’d gotten his own computer. The first person he’d sent an E-mail to-after about twenty of his best friends-had been me. I’d been so proud.

It was time to face the music, whatever tune might be playing today. I looked up my dad’s home number and punched it in.

“Hello?” The voice was Betty Jo’s, and she was strung tightly.

“It’s Aurora,” I said. “I have Phillip.”

“Oh thank God!” Betty Jo burst into tears. “Phil, pick up the other phone. Phillip’s at your daughter’s!”

“Is he okay?” my father asked.

“He seems to be fine. He’s asleep right now.” I hesitated, then decided Phillip’s adventures were his to relate. “I told him I was calling you.”

“How did he get there? What-did you ask him to come see you? We checked his computer, and we found out he’d been sending you E-mails.”

Strike. I rolled my eyes, though no one was there to get the effect. “Then you know that I didn’t invite him here. I would never do that without talking to you first. As far as I can tell, this was completely his idea. He said there was trouble at home.” Counterstrike.

There was a long period of silence, way over there in California.

“Well, not to get into it now,” my dad began, and Betty Jo said sharply, “He walked in on Phil while Phil was sticking it to another woman. Well, not even a woman. A girl .”

This was more than I wanted to know, but it did explain Phillip’s extreme reaction. I was willing to bet Phillip knew the girl.

“You two have to work out your own problems. I don’t want to hear the graphic details,” I said flatly. “Let Phillip stay here for a while, okay? I’d love to have him, and this house is big.”

“But you have a boyfriend now,” Betty Jo protested.

“If you’re accusing me of setting a bad example by perhaps sleeping with my steady friend from time to time, well, I think Phillip already knows about the birds and the bees. Especially in view of what you just told me.” Hell, he already engages in sex, I thought.

“He would have this week off for Thanksgiving anyway,” Betty Jo said. For once, she sounded subdued. “So, maybe if he could stay for a week… we may work things out, at least decide what we’re going to do.”

“That might be a good thing,” my father said cautiously. “Thanks, Doll.”

I hated being called “Doll.” But he’d always called me that, and he wasn’t going to change now.

“If you need longer, he can go to school here,” I said, as if accomplishing that would be a snap of the fingers. Of course, I hadn’t the faintest clue how to enroll a teenager for school, but how hard could it be?

“Okay,” said Betty Jo. “Okay.” She sounded as though she were trying to persuade herself that this was a good idea. “I can’t believe he went all the way across the country on his own. When I think of what could have happened to him…”

“Roe, thanks,” my father said. For the first time, he talked to me like I was an adult. “I know you’ll take care of him. I bet he just needs someone to talk to.”

“I’ll bet that’s it,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “He’ll be fine. I’ll watch out for him.”

“No new murders, right?” my father asked nervously.

Not since this morning.

“No, Dad,” I said, as if that was silliest idea I’d ever heard. “Ha ha ha.”

“Say hello to your mother for us,” Betty Jo said, a sop toward courtesy. “And have Phillip call us himself the minute he gets up.”

“He has a lot to answer for,” my father said grimly.

“So do you!” Betty Jo told him. “Good-bye, Roe.”

I was so glad to end the conversation, I almost danced.

The rest of my family was probably wondering where I was. I made a face in my bedroom mirror. When I’d gotten up that morning, my most pressing problem had been whether or not my only pair of intact panty hose was clean.

While Phillip slept, I’d checked Robin’s itinerary and then called him at a store called Murder by the Book, in Houston. The young man who’d answered the phone had been very civil about getting Robin to the phone as soon as he’d been convinced I actually knew Robin and was not a crazed fan who’d dreamed up a clever way to talk to him.

“Did you win?” I asked him.

“No,” Robin said, though he sounded cheerful. “But the panel was standing room only, and my signing line went out of the room. Awards are nice, but sales are better.”

“How’s your signing at the bookstore going?”

“Just about to get under way. I’m signing with Margaret Maron, and the store is jam-packed.”

So he had a group of people waiting for him.

“I just have some things I had to tell you,” I said anxiously.

“You’re all right?” His voice was suddenly sharp. “Your stepfather okay?”

“I’m fine, Robin,” I said, my voice soft. “And John is healthy. But John David’s wife, Poppy? She got killed this morning.”

“In a car?” he said cautiously.

“No, she was murdered.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. From your voice, I’m betting you found her.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shall I come home right now?”

“Bless you for offering. But there’s more.”

A long pause. “I’m listening,” he said, just when I was about to ask if he’d hung up. “Did you get arrested?” He wasn’t entirely joking.

“My brother Phillip is here.”

“Your brother? Oh, sure! The little guy who was staying with you all those years ago! Hasn’t he been living in Pomona? What’s he doing in Lawrenceton?”

“He’s at least five eight or nine now,” I said. “And he got here by running away from home.”

“Uh-oh. You talked to your dad and the new wife?”

“She’s not so new now, and my dad cheated on her. Phillip walked in on this little episode,” I said. “That’s supposed to be the reason he ran away, but I’m finding that a little, I don’t know, extreme.”

“So, what do you think the real reason is?”

“Maybe time will tell. He’s going to stay here for at least a week.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “He needs this right now.”

“No problem. If you don’t need me instantly, I’ll just do two more signings tomorrow, one in Austin and one in Dallas, and then I’ll fly home from there.”