Inherit the Dead Read Free Page B

her.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because Norman is far too lenient. He spoils Angel. And he has problems.”
    “Such as?”
    She sighed. “They’re under control now.”
    “I need to know if—”
    “I said they are under control.” The steel was back in her eyes—and her voice.
    “Mrs. Drusilla.” Perry spoke quietly and chose his words carefully. “If I’m going to find your daughter, I need to know everything.”
    “Norman would never do anything to harm Angel. It’s just that—” A short intake of breath. “He drinks. Or did. And when he does—Well, you’ve never seen such a personality change. It’s quite”—she shook her head—“extraordinary.”
    “Is that the reason you two—”
    “Divorced? No. It had nothing to do with that, ” she said, hard. “But he’s stopped drinking. At least I think so, hope so.” Then more quietly, “All I was saying is that if Norman had been tougher, Angel might not have disappeared without a word. He doesn’t lay down any rules.”
    “What about your rules?”
    “I’m afraid I have little say over what Angel does. She doesn’t live here, remember?”
    “But you’re her mother.”
    “I repeat: she does not live here. I cannot be a disciplinarian from a distance, and Angel . . . well, we don’t see each other very often.”
    “When was the last time?”
    “We have not seen each other in . . . ” She looked up at ceiling. “I can’t say for certain but . . . probably close to a year.”
    “A year?”
    “Yes. Give or take a few . . . weeks.”
    “That’s a long time. Did you have a fight?”
    “No. We just . . . don’t get along very well. The distance is good for us.” She sighed. “I’d hoped Angel would grow out of her rebellious phase—all teenage girls have issues with their mothers, don’t they, Detective? Lord knows I gave my poor mother a terrible time. But Angel can’t seem to get past it.”
    “So you did argue.”
    “In the past. But not anymore. It’s hard to argue when you rarely speak.”
    “I see.”
    “No, I don’t think you do, Detective.” She leaned closer, her breathminty with a hint of something medicinal. “Despite our disagreements, I am her mother, and I love her very much. And I believe down deep she loves me, too. One day—soon, I hope—she will come to realize how much I love her.” She sniffed as if she was fighting tears, but her eyes were perfectly clear, her tone clipped. “It’s why I must find her. Why you must find her.” She laid a bony hand on Perry’s. It was cold and dry. “I don’t have much time, and I need to make things right between us, need to . . . ” Her breathing became labored, a wheezing sound, as if there was cotton wadding in her nose and throat.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Y-yes. Or . . . I will be once you find my daughter and bring her back to me.”
    Bring her back? But she was never here.
    She took deep breaths, a hand to her throat. “All I know is that she is gone and no one has heard from her. I’m frightened, Detective.”
    Perry tried to read her face, but it was flat, expressionless. “You said that your daughter often took off, wandered, so there’s probably no reason to suspect anything is wrong—or is there?”
    She looked away, and when she turned back there was something ferocious in her eyes though she spoke calmly, “No. There’s nothing. Nothing at all.” She continued to stare at him, not speaking.
    Perry let the quiet expand between them. Something he’d learned as a cop: let the suspect fill the uncomfortable void.
    And she did. “There’s something you should know, Detective. Angel will be twenty-one in less than two weeks, at which time she will come into a sizable fortune.”
    “I see. And Angel knows this?”
    “No. At least I never told her. Of course she knew she would get money, my money, which is considerable, though she has a small, serviceable income of her own. I thought it best she not spend her youth knowing she would