Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 04 - Vicksburg Read Online Free

around to repairing it.”

    “Well, they’re all nice looking cars” I glanced out the
window. “Lot of construction out there.”
    “Yeah. Keeps things torn up. But we’re lucky on our
block. All the construction is complete.”
    Before I could reply, three customers entered. Doc nodded to them. “Been good talking to you. Tell Jack I said hi”
    “You bet. And you might put out the word about the old
cars.”
    “Sure thing.”
    I paused just outside the front door and looked up and
down the wet sidewalk, considering Doc’s last remark. All
the construction is complete on our block. Same remark
Isaac Wilson had made only minutes earlier.
    If the construction was complete, then what was the hard
hat doing on the roof of the soon-to-be museum with a bag
of cement-in the rain?
    I walked along the outside edge of the sidewalk back to
my pickup, all the while keeping a circumspect eye on the
parapets overhead. If another bag of concrete headed my
way, I wanted to see it coming.
    Safely behind the wheel of the Silverado, I jotted the
essence of my conversation with Doc Raines on one of the
ubiquitous three by five cards I always carry. I learned long
ago that sometimes individuals say and remember different
things at different times. I’m reconciled to the fact I’m not
swift enough to keep everything in my head, so I rely on the
cards to help keep everyone honest and me thinking straight.
    An added benefit of the cards is that I can rearrange them
in any manner, often permitting me to spot an angle or perception I had overlooked. Technology is good, but there are
times when pencil and paper work better.
    I glanced up to see a bright red Dodge Ram 1500 pickup
rumbling my way. As it passed, I spotted the construction worker who had dropped the cement sitting behind the
wheel. The white logo on the side of the pickup was shaped
like a shield with the words “Rebel Trucking” in the middle
of the logo.

    After the pickup disappeared up the street behind me, I
slipped the cards in my shirt pocket and peered through the
windshield, studying the restored buildings around me. As
both Doc Raines and Isaac Wilson had said, on this block,
all refurbishing did appear to be complete. The adjoining
block was still under construction. I studied the pile of powdery cement on the sidewalk. By now, the drizzle had soaked
the cement, and tiny, gray rivulets ran off the sidewalk into
the gutter.
    I asked the question of myself again. If all the construction had been completed on this block, then why was the
construction worker on the roof with a bag of cement in the
rain? And, why didn’t he clean up the mess he’d made with
the cement? I looked back up at the empty parapet. Then I
thought back over Doc’s remarks about the fireplace tools.
    After a few seconds, I muttered, “Jack, what have you got
me into?”

     

Pulling up in front of the late John Wesley Edney’s home,
I spotted Stewart next to the new Lincoln, gesticulating
wildly at the attorney behind the wheel. He shot me a murderous look.
    As I mounted the steps onto the porch, I heard shouting
and cursing behind the closed door. That’s when I noticed
that instead of a doorbell, the old mansion had a bell pull.
Grinning at the novelty, I sharply jerked on the brass knob,
and from inside came the ringing of a bell. I opened the
door slowly and stuck my head inside. “Am I interrupting
anything?”
    Jack, WR, and Annebelle turned to stare at me. Jack
waved me in with his emu feather. “Nothing except a family squabble.”
    I figured my smartest reply was silence.
    WR snorted. He ran his thick fingers through his thinning
black hair. “I wouldn’t call it a squabble. War’s a better
word”
    Annebelle stepped forward and jabbed a finger at him.
Her lips stretched tight over her bared teeth. “You heard the
will. I told you John put me back in.” She folded her arms
over her chest and glared at him. “And there’s