Grave Undertaking Read Online Free

to keep things under control without bothering him. Something I can help you with?”
    “Thanks, Reece, you just did. I wanted to ask when Kenny was coming in for the holidays.” I hung up before the nosey deputy could ask why and dialed Tommy Lee’s home number.
    Tommy Lee’s wife, Patsy, answered the phone.
    “Kenny get in okay?”
    “Just made it. Tommy Lee’s helping him unload the car. That boy brings home every stitch of dirty laundry except what’s on his back.” She laughed and the joy of having her son home for Christmas rang through. “I’ll tell him you’re on the line.”
    “No. I’m driving in this mess,” I lied. “And my mind shuts down when I talk. Is it okay if I drop by?”
    “Sure. We’ll save you a spot by the fire.”
    I looked at my wristwatch. Ten after three. “All right. I’ll be there about four.”
    Tommy Lee and Patsy lived on the side of Laurel County farthest from Pace’s Eagle Creek church. The snow-infested two-lane winding roads would keep me under thirty-five miles per hour most of the way. I wasn’t going to push it. Four-wheel drive doesn’t do a hell of a lot of good if you’re tumbling down a mountainside.
    I wanted to talk to Tommy Lee alone, but the afternoon activity of his household might make that awkward. Kenny was a sophomore at NC State in Raleigh, and their daughter, Samantha, was an eighth-grader who would be excited about her big brother’s return. A roaring fire in the den would be a magnet drawing a close-knit family even tighter.

    A good inch of snow covered the gravel driveway to Tommy Lee’s house. Both Pace’s bursitis weather forecast and my travel-time estimate were right on the money. I pulled the jeep behind a silver Taurus with icicles hanging from the rear bumper. Kenny’s car had been hot enough to melt the snow, but now had sat long enough for it to refreeze.
    The rambling brick ranch-style house was framed by white pines, now literally white as their boughs bent under the weight of the snow. I stepped from the jeep and took a deep breath. Through the cascading flakes came the sweet aroma of wood smoke from Tommy Lee’s chimney. The only sound was the muffled whisper of thousands of tiny particles striking around me. I wished I were ten years old and my greatest concern was sledding with my buddies.
    I crunched my way to the side of the house where I could enter through the utility room. Patsy didn’t need a melting puddle to come traipsing across her living room carpet. The storm door was unlocked and a rack of coats, hats, and gloves hung from wall hooks just inside. I unzipped my jacket and started to deposit it in a vacant spot when the door to the kitchen opened.
    “Well, where’s your armload of wood?” asked Tommy Lee. “No one gets by me without paying the toll.” His broad shoulders filled the doorway. A red flannel shirt and blue jeans didn’t proclaim his off-duty status as much as the pistol missing from his hip. His grin was as warm as the air flowing out around him. His one eye winked, momentarily blinding him to the fact that I wasn’t smiling.
    “Why don’t we feed the pigeons,” I said.
    His brow furrowed, puckering the ever-present black patch that covered his sightless left eye. Tommy Lee’s tour of duty in Vietnam hadn’t come without cost, and the price he had paid was written across his face. “You want to talk,” he said.
    I nodded and put on my jacket.
    Tommy Lee turned around and yelled, “Honey, I’m going to make Barry help with the birds before he falls asleep in front of our fire.”
    From somewhere inside the house, Patsy called, “Then put on your gloves. You’re too old to get frostbite.”
    “Not me. You tell me I’ve got the hottest hands in Gainesboro.”
    He paused, and waited. We both got an earful of silence.
    Tommy Lee laughed as he grabbed a gray parka from the rack. “She knows as soon as I come in I’ll run my cold hands up her back. Been doing that for nearly thirty