Only the Wicked
“The abode was, appropriately, done in the Monterey Revival design. There was a second-floor maple balcony running the horizontal length of the front, its wood lustrous in the bright sun. The original wood shingle roof, according to the listing, had been replaced by unblemished terra cotta tiles. Though they were several miles inland, the smell of the peninsula was keen in the morning air.
“Come on in, folks.” The woman stood up, smoothing her business skirt, a practiced, but sincere smile on he...r handsome face.
“Actually we didn’t come to see the house; we came to see you, Ms. Allen.” Grant stopped at the doorway, indicating that Nona Monk should go through first.
“And why is that?” The smile now had creases in each corner.
“About your older sister, Sharon, and that time,” Nona Monk said, taking some of the edge off Grant’s harsh delivery. Man wouldn’t know subtle if it smacked him upside the head, she noted. “My son is a private detective, and he’s in Mississippi looking into matters that touch on your family’s history.”MoreLess
“Come on in, folks.” The woman stood up, smoothing her business skirt, a practiced, but sincere smile on he...r handsome face.
“Actually we didn’t come to see the house; we came to see you, Ms. Allen.” Grant stopped at the doorway, indicating that Nona Monk should go through first.
“And why is that?” The smile now had creases in each corner.
“About your older sister, Sharon, and that time,” Nona Monk said, taking some of the edge off Grant’s harsh delivery. Man wouldn’t know subtle if it smacked him upside the head, she noted. “My son is a private detective, and he’s in Mississippi looking into matters that touch on your family’s history.”MoreLess
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