Shadow of an Angle Read Online Free

and everyone else was tucked away for the night—including Otto, who had been carted away by the coroner before being turned over to Houn' Dawg Wilson (so named because of his mournful expression), who ran the Easy rest Funeral Parlor. "Customary procedure," we were assured, "in event of an unexpected death." And Cousin Otto, we learned, had probably been dead for almost twenty-four hours when I found him.
    "Reckon what in the world made Otto pick the ladies' room—of all places—to die in," Gatlin said, reaching for the last ham biscuit.
    "Too sick or too drunk to care, I guess," I said. "Maybe he never knew where he was, but what was he doing there last night? The only thing they found, other than his wallet and the usual stuff, was a dirty, wadded up handkerchief. Probably took it out to wipe his face before he took sick and died. The coroner says this must've happened before midnight. Looks like Mildred would've missed him if he didn't come home."
    "Movies 'n' Munchies," my cousin said.
    "What?"
    "Movies 'n' Munchies. The Methodists sponsor a movie night for seniors the first Friday in the month. As far as I know, Mildred's never missed one. They have sandwiches and potato chips, and somebody brings dessert. This week I think they featured Van Johnson in one of those old war movies. Afterwards, Mildred went home and went to bed. When she woke up this morning, I guess she thought Otto had already left for the academy."
    "What in the world will she do now?" I wondered. "Papa's Armchair will have to be sold, and I can't imagine her staying on there."
    "She could live with Vesta, I suppose, but her place is small, and you know they don't get along so well. Besides, Vesta likes her space."
    I didn't think Mildred had ever forgiven my grandmother for moving into that condo and leaving Otto and her behind. It was like breaking upa family.
    "There's plenty of room at the Nut House," I said. "Mildred lived there for a good part of her life; she should feel right at home, and it won't cost a cent."
    The small living room was cluttered with cups and saucers, empty glasses, and crumpled paper napkins left by earlier callers, including Gertrude Whitmire and her brother Hugh, who still seemed to be in shock. I started to collect the dishes, stacking them on a bent Coca-Cola tray I recognized as Vesta's. "Hey, that'll wait," my cousin protested. "They'll still be there in the morning—I promise."
    And so would I, I thought, and I'd rather not be faced with them, but I didn't say so. Gatlin looked tired and seemed to have something on her mind. I knew she was upset over Otto's death, as we all were, but I suspected something more. "Just don't ask me to do windows," I said, in my best proper-Mildred voice. "You know how my sciatica acts up when I overdo."
    If I expected a smile from my cousin, I was disappointed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Especially now." I set down the tray and sat on the arm of Gatlin's chair. "You're worried about Mildred, I know. Do you think Otto's provided for her? Maybe the sale of the bookshop…"
    "That's just it." Gatlin kicked off her shoes and curled up in the chair. "Papa's Armchair belongs to Vesta—always has. Otto had part interest, but Vesta's the one who got him started; she's the one who put up money for the building."
    "But surely Vesta will see that Mildred's taken care of," I said. "And I expect Otto's share of the shop will go to her."
    Gatlin shrugged. "If there's anything left to share. Otto wasn't much of a businessman, I'm afraid." My cousin glanced at the closed door of the bedroom she shared with David and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Minda, I'm thinking…"
    "What?" I leaned forward. "What are you thinking?"
    "I'm thinking I'd like to buy Otto's share. I still have the few thousand Dad left me, and I don't earn squat filling in as an office temp. It might be rough going at first, but I'm sure I can make something of it."
    "Have you spoken to Vesta about it?" I asked.
    "Not