Page 28 of The Sister's Curse
“Can I help you?”
A salesman approached. His over-whitened smile looked positively painful, and it didn’t falter as he took in my grubby appearance.
“Hi. Is Mark Lister in?”
He blinked. “Mr.Lister’s a busy man, but I can help you.”
I flashed him my badge. “I’d rather speak to Mr.Lister.”
“Of course. Let me check to see if he’s still in.”
The salesman retreated down a hallway. I studied Mark Lister’s picture in the showroom, above a family tree of ten salespeople. I got an impression of a middle-aged guy with not a hair out of place and with the same bleached teeth his sales force sported. I noticed the wall paint had faded in spots that suggested there had once been fifteen salespeople. Business might not be good.
The salesman returned. “I’m sorry, but Mr.Lister’s in a meeting. Could I please have your card, and I’ll have him call you?”
I handed over my card. “Please tell him I’d like to speak with him.”
“Of course. But how about I show you this lovely blue coupe?”
I demurred, then headed out back, to the El Camino.
As I tooled around the lot, I could see through the glass of the sales area, and my gaze fixed on a man in the largest office. His tie was loose and he looked rumpled, with sweat stains under his arms. I squinted. Yes, he looked like an unretouched version of Mister Lister, King of the Midwest Dealerships. He was talking on the phone, holding a business card that might have been mine.
His gaze met mine, and he froze. He turned out the light, plunging his office into darkness.
I was just disappointed I was unable to shake his hand. My hands were soaked in poison ivy oil, after all.
—
I got home late, late enough that Gibby gave me only a perfunctory huff before bolting out into the yard to do his business and then racing back to perform his nightly routine of eating, then snuggling in bed. Nick must’ve given him a bath; his fur was fluffy, and he smelled like my citrus volumizing shampoo. Snuggling would have to wait until I’d scrubbed the poison ivy off my body and put my clothes in the washer. I might be immune to the poison ivy, but I wasn’t wanting to share with Gibby and Nick.
But I had something to do first.
I headed to the back of the El Camino and took out the snake. Its body was warm from the heat but stiffened by death. I cradled it in my arm and grabbed a small shovel.
I circled back to the garden, to Nick’s plot of civilizedvegetables. At the edge of it, I dug into the earth, making a little grave for the snake. I dug the snake’s grave beside Nick’s memorial for his mother, maybe to keep the grief contained.
I placed the snake in the grave. It had curled in on itself in a circle. When I’d tucked it into that round hole, it looked like the ouroboros, the serpent without beginning or end.
I kissed my fingers and pressed them to its brow. “Sleep well.”
I filled the hole, and it was as if it had never existed. But it had, and it felt like a needless death to me.
I went inside to rinse the dirt off, but couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. Loss of the snake, and the knowledge that I’d fucked up and lost a suspect. I’d gone hunting…like my father had. If I’d kept things cool and professional, I’d have a suspect to question, unharmed and maybe cooperative. I had nothing now, and it was my fault. I needed to toe the line, follow the rules. Flouting the rules was supposed to be behind me. Each time I dipped into my father’s power, I risked having his memory overtake me, and I couldn’t allow that.
I put the misshapen pearl Jasper had found on my nightstand, beside a mason jar full of feathers. My eye kept straying to the pearl as I dressed for bed and climbed in. In the darkness, I swore I could sense its presence humming beside me.
I’d been stupid to bring it home. I considered taking it outside and locking it in my car.
But that seemed silly. Who was afraid of something so small?
It wasn’t usable evidence.
But it felt important in a way I couldn’t articulate.
Gibby grumbled and rolled over, pinning my arm to my pillow. When Nick was working, Gibby slept in Nick’s spot. I found that to be incredibly charming, and I rubbed his back.
“You’re taking being man of the house very seriously.”
