in the walls and fleas in the linens. If it really is authentic, they probably pee through a hole in the floor.”
“That’s only in an outhouse,” I corrected her.
“I don’t care. I refuse to go. You two can go on without me.”
“Well,” said Rayna, “I can’t go anyway. Rob has made it clear that he doesn’t want me to get mixed up in any kind of investigation. Even something as safe as this would put me squarely in the over-the-hill Charlie’s Angels category, I’m sure.”
Bitty’s head jerked up and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let him browbeat you into submission! Rob may act like a troglodyte, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
“Spoken like a true suffragette,” I murmured, and Rayna grinned.
“You’re right, Bitty,” said Rayna. “I don’t have to listen to Rob, but I do want to keep the peace between us. I guess I’ll just have to sit back and let things happen without my interference. Maybe he’s right, after all. We can’t really go around acting like women in their twenties.”
“Very true,” I said with a long sigh. “I guess we really are over-the-hill women unqualified to even ask questions without getting into trouble.”
Silence fell after my comments. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Bitty’s head, and thought I caught a faint whiff of smoke.
“Well,” said Bitty when the silence stretched for several moments, “I can see what you two are trying to do but it won’t work. I am not going to stay in, or even look at, sharecropper shacks, no matter what you say. No, I won’t do it. No! ”
CHAPTER 4
“I don’t know why you insisted on us coming here,” Bitty grumbled for the fourth or fifth time as we took Highway 49 out of Clarksdale. We were in her Mercedes, and I had drawn the short straw and the front passenger seat next to her. That meant that since I was closest to her, I had to listen as she continued grumbling. “It would have been just as easy to drive over for an hour instead of stay all night in some godforsaken shack that’s probably filled with fleas and spiders. Now it’s raining. And dark. I can barely see two feet in front of us.”
“And whose fault is that?” I asked. “We would have gotten here in plenty of daylight if you hadn’t stayed so long at Luann Carey’s house, saying goodbye to your dog.”
“Chen Ling is sensitive,” Bitty replied. “She knew I was going away and leaving her for an entire night, and I couldn’t just drop her off like she’s some stray dog I found wandering the highway.”
“Good lord, Bitty. You took less time saying goodbye to your boys when they went off to Europe for the summer.”
“That’s different. My boys can use a phone. Poor little Chen Ling just has to sit there and wonder if I’m ever coming back. Poor little thing . . .”
For a moment I thought maybe she was getting emotional, so I peered at her in the reflection of the dashboard lights. Not a trace of a tear.
“So buy her a cell phone,” I sat back and said. “You might as well. You’ve already bought her tons of unnecessary stuff anyway.”
Bitty ignored my comments and peered over the steering wheel at the road unfurling in front of us. We were on 49 Highway and had just passed under an overpass of old 161 and not even out of sight of the Clarksdale outskirts when she slowed down. Rain made it a bit harder to see out the windows, but somehow Bitty had spotted the graveled road that led from asphalt back to a shack sitting alone in the middle of a field. She flipped on her turn signal and made a slow turn; car tires squelched in mud. Headlights dipped downward and then up again, briefly illuminating the shack. It looked abandoned.
“This isn’t it,” I said. “It looks deserted.”
“I read the map,” Bitty insisted. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Unh hunh. Well, Hawkeye, this ain’t the place,” I muttered.
“Of course it is. Look at it! It’s a dump. It’s
“That’s only in an outhouse,” I corrected her.
“I don’t care. I refuse to go. You two can go on without me.”
“Well,” said Rayna, “I can’t go anyway. Rob has made it clear that he doesn’t want me to get mixed up in any kind of investigation. Even something as safe as this would put me squarely in the over-the-hill Charlie’s Angels category, I’m sure.”
Bitty’s head jerked up and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let him browbeat you into submission! Rob may act like a troglodyte, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
“Spoken like a true suffragette,” I murmured, and Rayna grinned.
“You’re right, Bitty,” said Rayna. “I don’t have to listen to Rob, but I do want to keep the peace between us. I guess I’ll just have to sit back and let things happen without my interference. Maybe he’s right, after all. We can’t really go around acting like women in their twenties.”
“Very true,” I said with a long sigh. “I guess we really are over-the-hill women unqualified to even ask questions without getting into trouble.”
Silence fell after my comments. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Bitty’s head, and thought I caught a faint whiff of smoke.
“Well,” said Bitty when the silence stretched for several moments, “I can see what you two are trying to do but it won’t work. I am not going to stay in, or even look at, sharecropper shacks, no matter what you say. No, I won’t do it. No! ”
CHAPTER 4
“I don’t know why you insisted on us coming here,” Bitty grumbled for the fourth or fifth time as we took Highway 49 out of Clarksdale. We were in her Mercedes, and I had drawn the short straw and the front passenger seat next to her. That meant that since I was closest to her, I had to listen as she continued grumbling. “It would have been just as easy to drive over for an hour instead of stay all night in some godforsaken shack that’s probably filled with fleas and spiders. Now it’s raining. And dark. I can barely see two feet in front of us.”
“And whose fault is that?” I asked. “We would have gotten here in plenty of daylight if you hadn’t stayed so long at Luann Carey’s house, saying goodbye to your dog.”
“Chen Ling is sensitive,” Bitty replied. “She knew I was going away and leaving her for an entire night, and I couldn’t just drop her off like she’s some stray dog I found wandering the highway.”
“Good lord, Bitty. You took less time saying goodbye to your boys when they went off to Europe for the summer.”
“That’s different. My boys can use a phone. Poor little Chen Ling just has to sit there and wonder if I’m ever coming back. Poor little thing . . .”
For a moment I thought maybe she was getting emotional, so I peered at her in the reflection of the dashboard lights. Not a trace of a tear.
“So buy her a cell phone,” I sat back and said. “You might as well. You’ve already bought her tons of unnecessary stuff anyway.”
Bitty ignored my comments and peered over the steering wheel at the road unfurling in front of us. We were on 49 Highway and had just passed under an overpass of old 161 and not even out of sight of the Clarksdale outskirts when she slowed down. Rain made it a bit harder to see out the windows, but somehow Bitty had spotted the graveled road that led from asphalt back to a shack sitting alone in the middle of a field. She flipped on her turn signal and made a slow turn; car tires squelched in mud. Headlights dipped downward and then up again, briefly illuminating the shack. It looked abandoned.
“This isn’t it,” I said. “It looks deserted.”
“I read the map,” Bitty insisted. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Unh hunh. Well, Hawkeye, this ain’t the place,” I muttered.
“Of course it is. Look at it! It’s a dump. It’s
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