Bury Me When I'm Dead Read Online Free

totally bored with the two visitors.
    Charlie did the talking. “We’re wondering if you can tell us where one of your neighbors might have moved.”
    The man looked at Charlie but offered no response. Finally he blinked and for a moment Charlie thought he might match Pumpkin’s yawn.
    Charlie tried again. “Ms. Joyce Stringer who lived at 2317. Do you know how we might get in touch with her?”
    Pumpkin was now lying at her owner’s feet. She raised an eyebrow also awaiting his answer.
    â€œNo, I don’t know how you can get in touch with her,” the man said. Are you the cops?”
    â€œNo, we’re not cops,” Don answered. He was less worried about the pit bull but his hand remained near his waist.
    Both the man and Pumpkin studied Don.
    â€œWe’re private investigators. We’ve been hired by Stringer’s employer. She used to work at Reliable Restaurant Supply,” Charlie said.
    â€œI know where she worked and I told Mr. Abrams when he came by last month that we didn’t know where Joyce was.”
    â€œWe?” Charlie asked.
    â€œMother and I,” the man replied. “I went to Saint Joseph’s with Joyce. I used to hang out at her house. My mother and Miss Anna were good friends. That’s Joyce’s mother,” the man said in response to the question on Charlie’s face.
    Charlie jotted a note and Don posed the next question, the neighbor and dog again looking at him in unison.
    â€œHas Miss Anna been in touch with your mother since they moved?”
    â€œNo. Like I said, we don’t know where they’ve gone.”
    â€œWhat about her brother, do you know him too?”
    â€œYes, I know Paul. Joyce babysat him while her mother worked, he tagged along behind Joyce everywhere she went. He was a pain in the ass,” the man added with feeling.
    It was the only hint of emotion the neighbor had shown and Pumpkin rose to her feet.
    â€œWell, thank you, uh. Mr. uh,” Charlie fished for the man’s name.
    â€œ You can call me, Hugh,” he said with a slight tone of flirtation.
    Don was already turning to leave, closely watched by Pumpkin. “Thank you, Hugh,” Charlie said using the opening. “By the way, do you happen to know where Paul works?”
    â€œI heard he worked at one of the casinos. I don’t know what he does there, but I’m sure they’re smart enough not to let him near the money.”
    As usual, Don insisted on taking the wheel for the drive to Windsor, Ontario where the bookkeeper, Rona Dietrich, lived. Judy called while they were en route and Charlie engaged the speakerphone.
    â€œI have that information you wanted.” Judy was resourceful and smart. A woman in her forties who did not suffer fools, lazy people or what she called drama queens easily; yet she exuded genuine empathy and people opened up to her. She was the middle child in a family of eleven kids and bragged she knew how to manage people up the food chain and down. Judy could also lie with the best of them, which endeared her to Charlie who considered herself a first-class fibber.
    â€œWhat’ve you got?” Charlie’s pen was posed over the notebook in her lap.
    â€œI have the brother’s last known address and the name of the company he works for. I’m also going to receive phone records for the address, but I’m not sure when I’ll get my hands on those. His full name is Paul Gillette Stringer, he’s thirty-five years old and has received some kind of disability check for a long time. I haven’t found out what that’s all about but I’ll track it down.”
    Charlie had no doubt she would. “What’s the address?”
    â€œ2317 Hendricks Street. That’s on the east side.”
    Detroit’s east side/west side dynamic was something only understood by Detroiters. The long-standing rivalry was steeped in class, race and history, with