“she asked. “No, what about Grace?” I still didn’t have our whole tour group quite straight in my head, but I remembered that Grace Priestly was the grayhaired older woman I’d seen with Belinda and photographed, during one of my rest-room vigils. Husband: Herman. Bald. Glasses. Texas oil. Not on the official list. Belinda was eager to pass along the news. “She and Herman went to look at that jewelry store around the comer, Stem’s I guess it’s called, and then took a walk around those... funny little streets back there. I guess she was a little careless with her purse and all of a sudden it was empty. They’d slashed it open at the bottom so everything fell out. Of course, she’d left the important things in her room safe, the way we were told to, but she lost some money and a nice compact, she said, and they mined a perfectly good leather bag, Mark Cross or something.” I said, “So Annie wasn’t just whistling Dixie.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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