Antiques Roadkill Read Online Free Page B

doing?” I thought that came out rather nicely.
    He was silent for a moment before responding. “I’m not sure I entirely understand the question, little lady. When you say, ‘me,’ are you in the hypothetical realm?”
    “There’s nothing hypothetical about dealers taking advantage of seniors.”
    The crowd was beginning to realize that this was not a friendly exchange, and I heard some disapproving murmurs. But here and there, surprisingly, were smatterings of applause.
    Carson’s eyes narrowed and his voice had a quake that might have been anger, or even fear. “Are you implyin’ that I am unethical?”
    “No—I’m
saying
it.”
    He stiffened self-righteously. “You want to be very careful about making such statements. We have laws against slander in this country, you know.”
    “We have lots of laws in this country, Mr. Carson. And the truth is the best defense against slander.”
    But now my confidence was flagging; the audience was grumbling, and more seemed against me than for me—I had ruined the Red Hat luncheon!
    Time to cut and run.
    I turned to Mother, who was looking at me with a big smile and those blue eyes huge behind the lenses, though her face was streaked with tears. “Come on, dear,” I said, “we’re going.”
    I took her by the arm, and we exited the ballroom, leaving the stunned group behind. And yet among the rumblings was again more scattered applause. Apparently we weren’t the only ones who didn’t think well of this Colorado highwayman.
    We sat in the Audi in the parking lot, Mother blowing her nose into a big cloth hanky that had seen better days.
    “Brandy, I’m so proud of you. Not only did you stand up to that man, you showed …”
    That instability ran in the family? Or maybe galloped?
    “… you showed a great dramatic
flair.
How I wish you’d followed me into theater!”
    “Mother—what about the real-life melodrama? How much did that jerk give you for our things?”
    Mother sniffled. “About a thousand dollars … I think.”
    “For
everything?
The pine armoire alone was worth triple that!”
    She nodded dejectedly.
    “
Shit!”
I said.
    “Brandy,” Mother said. “Language.”
    I started the car and decreed, “I’m going to get that creep Carson—and all of our things back—if I have to run right over him to do it!”
    Then I wheeled out of the lot, tires squealing, and headed for the home that unscrupulous dealer had emptied of so many memories.
    A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip
    It’s said that one person’s trash is another person’s treasure, but that’s not entirely true. Trash is still trash … but there’s no law against treasuring it. Just don’t expect a lot of resale money.

Chapter Two
A Tisket, a Casket
    I n chilly darkness inside the Taurus, Mother and I were slumped in the front, leaning back against the headrests, waiting patiently. Down the block—deserted but for a few empty, parked cars—a streetlight flickered spookily; I could almost see the hockey-masked Jason, knife-blade glinting, running from house to house, seeking teenagers having sex and scolding them as only he could.
    Mother had her eyes closed (we’d run out of conversation some time ago) and I took a sip of coffee from the thermos I’d brought from home, even though the strong liquid had long since gone cold. My patience was just morphing into claustrophobia when a light snapped on in the home across the street.
    “Mother,” I whispered, giving her a gentle nudge. She sat up with a start and batted her eyes behind the magnifying lenses of the big glasses.
    “Ah!” Mother said. “He’s up and around—won’t be long now, dear.”
    But another half an hour had dragged by, the sky blushing with dawn, before the garage door to the split-level house finally began to rise with a slowness that could only be described as ominous. (Which is why I described it that way.)
    Out of the car like a shot, I was poised to dash acrossthe street, when Mother trilled a warning: