much.”
“She the one in California?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s Arizona now. But yeah.”
The small-body-big-voice girl finished her song and left the stage while the whole bar erupted into applause. Eddie said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise.
Once the clapping and hoots died now, I asked, “What was that?”
“I was telling you about Gary. Amy’s brother. He was killed in action in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I didn’t know him too well.”
I drew up a mental version of his family tree. “So Amy and Gary were cousins on your mom’s side?”
“Yeah.”
“And the one still living here? He’s an Arndt?”
“Shawn? No. It’s weird. He’s the only Wagner I talk to. Growing up I hardly knew him. But at the funeral…” He took a deep breath. “We sort of hit it off and started hanging out after that. Now he’s like a brother to me.”
“You said only two were left. What happened to the other cousin?”
“He—” Realization dawned in his face. “Wait a minute.”
“What happened to your cousin?” I asked, trying to barrel through and get an answer before he could finish putting the pieces together. But I could see in his eyes I was too late.
“You think they’re connected.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“But that’s why you’re asking, right?” He dropped back in his seat and slapped a palm against his forehead. “Jesus Christ, you think I really am cursed.”
Whoa. Not the direction I thought he’d take. “No, Eddie. I don’t think you’re cursed.”
He shrunk, shoulders hunched against his neck, color rising on his cheeks.
“While I was digging,” I said, “I found out about your grandmother and how she died.”
“She got confused. Took the wrong pills.”
“And Liz fell off a cliff. Your dad, mom, and brother also died from unnatural causes.”
A guy with a cowboy hat and platter-sized gold belt buckle sang “Achy Breaky Heart.” I wondered how much the business would suffer if I removed that song from our rotation. I made a mental note to check with Holly.
Meanwhile, Eddie didn’t look like he’d seen a ghost; he looked like a ghost. Pale face and dark, haunted eyes. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t get his brain to connect with his tongue.
I leaned forward to get in range of his ghostly stare. “The other cousin.”
He blinked his way out of his daze. “Hunter. Went to school at Wayne State in Detroit while I was still in high school. He died in an accident. He fell.”
“Fell?”
Eddie looked down at his hands while he picked at the edge of his thumbnail. “Hit his head on a concrete floor.”
The hair on my arms tingled and stood. As crazy as it sounded, it looked like someone was plaguing Eddie’s life by killing off his family members (or soon to be, in the case of Liz). Too many unnatural deaths were either the biggest hunk of bad luck known to man, or an undeniable pattern. And still another pattern emerged within the larger one.
“Any others?” I asked.
I didn’t have to elaborate. He knew exactly what I was asking. “My dad’s brother. Car crash. He was drunk, I guess. But he never drank. It’s why I don’t drink. The one time Uncle Mike got drunk, he was killed.”
“All of the unnatural deaths are on the Arndt side.”
He narrowed his eyes, gaze dipped to the table.
The voice of the cowboy on stage cracked so loudly feedback whined in the speakers.
Eddie made a face, then brought himself back. “Yes. All on Dad’s side.” Then he shook his head. “Except Liz. She wasn’t even family.”
“Yet,” I said. “But if you married her—”
“She’d be an Arndt.” He jerked back, his back thumping against the seat. “Christ, Ridley, what does this mean?”
I signaled to Paul for a drink. To hell with my upset stomach. I waited until he brought it over and I had a sip before answering Eddie’s question. “Well, Eddie.
“She the one in California?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s Arizona now. But yeah.”
The small-body-big-voice girl finished her song and left the stage while the whole bar erupted into applause. Eddie said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise.
Once the clapping and hoots died now, I asked, “What was that?”
“I was telling you about Gary. Amy’s brother. He was killed in action in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I didn’t know him too well.”
I drew up a mental version of his family tree. “So Amy and Gary were cousins on your mom’s side?”
“Yeah.”
“And the one still living here? He’s an Arndt?”
“Shawn? No. It’s weird. He’s the only Wagner I talk to. Growing up I hardly knew him. But at the funeral…” He took a deep breath. “We sort of hit it off and started hanging out after that. Now he’s like a brother to me.”
“You said only two were left. What happened to the other cousin?”
“He—” Realization dawned in his face. “Wait a minute.”
“What happened to your cousin?” I asked, trying to barrel through and get an answer before he could finish putting the pieces together. But I could see in his eyes I was too late.
“You think they’re connected.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“But that’s why you’re asking, right?” He dropped back in his seat and slapped a palm against his forehead. “Jesus Christ, you think I really am cursed.”
Whoa. Not the direction I thought he’d take. “No, Eddie. I don’t think you’re cursed.”
He shrunk, shoulders hunched against his neck, color rising on his cheeks.
“While I was digging,” I said, “I found out about your grandmother and how she died.”
“She got confused. Took the wrong pills.”
“And Liz fell off a cliff. Your dad, mom, and brother also died from unnatural causes.”
A guy with a cowboy hat and platter-sized gold belt buckle sang “Achy Breaky Heart.” I wondered how much the business would suffer if I removed that song from our rotation. I made a mental note to check with Holly.
Meanwhile, Eddie didn’t look like he’d seen a ghost; he looked like a ghost. Pale face and dark, haunted eyes. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t get his brain to connect with his tongue.
I leaned forward to get in range of his ghostly stare. “The other cousin.”
He blinked his way out of his daze. “Hunter. Went to school at Wayne State in Detroit while I was still in high school. He died in an accident. He fell.”
“Fell?”
Eddie looked down at his hands while he picked at the edge of his thumbnail. “Hit his head on a concrete floor.”
The hair on my arms tingled and stood. As crazy as it sounded, it looked like someone was plaguing Eddie’s life by killing off his family members (or soon to be, in the case of Liz). Too many unnatural deaths were either the biggest hunk of bad luck known to man, or an undeniable pattern. And still another pattern emerged within the larger one.
“Any others?” I asked.
I didn’t have to elaborate. He knew exactly what I was asking. “My dad’s brother. Car crash. He was drunk, I guess. But he never drank. It’s why I don’t drink. The one time Uncle Mike got drunk, he was killed.”
“All of the unnatural deaths are on the Arndt side.”
He narrowed his eyes, gaze dipped to the table.
The voice of the cowboy on stage cracked so loudly feedback whined in the speakers.
Eddie made a face, then brought himself back. “Yes. All on Dad’s side.” Then he shook his head. “Except Liz. She wasn’t even family.”
“Yet,” I said. “But if you married her—”
“She’d be an Arndt.” He jerked back, his back thumping against the seat. “Christ, Ridley, what does this mean?”
I signaled to Paul for a drink. To hell with my upset stomach. I waited until he brought it over and I had a sip before answering Eddie’s question. “Well, Eddie.
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