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Dead as a Doornail

Dead as a Doornail

Titel: Dead as a Doornail Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Charlaine Harris
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home.”
    “Of course not,” I said, ready to be out of the room so I could regain my composure.
    The outer room had emptied of most of its crowd while I talked to Calvin. Crystal and Jason had vanished, and Maryelizabeth was gathering up plates with the help of an adolescent werepanther. “Terry,” Maryelizabeth said with a sideways inclination of her head. “My daughter. We live next door.”
    I nodded to the girl, who gave me a darting look before turning back to her task. She was not a fan of mine. She wasfrom the fairer bloodstock, like Maryelizabeth and Calvin, and she was a thinker. “Are you going to marry my dad?” she asked me.
    “I’m not planning on marrying anyone,” I said cautiously. “Who’s your dad?”
    Maryelizabeth gave Terry a sidelong look that promised Terry she’d be sorry later. “Terry is Calvin’s,” she said.
    I was still puzzled for a second or two, but suddenly, the stance of both the younger and the older woman, their tasks, their air of comfort in this house, clicked into place.
    I didn’t say a word. My face must have shown something, for Maryelizabeth looked alarmed, and then angry.
    “Don’t presume to judge how we live our life,” she said. “We are not like you.”
    “That’s true,” I said, swallowing my revulsion. I forced a smile to my lips. “Thank you for introducing me around. I appreciate it. Is there anything I can help you with?”
    “We can take care of it,” said Terry, giving me another look that was a strange combination of respect and hostility.
    “We should never have sent you to school,” Maryelizabeth said to the girl. Her wide-spaced golden eyes were both loving and regretful.
    “Good-bye,” I said, and after I recovered my coat, I left the house, trying not to hurry. To my dismay, Patrick Furnan was waiting for me beside my car. He was holding a motorcycle helmet under his arm, and I spotted the Harley a little farther down the road.
    “You interested in hearing what I’ve got to say?” the bearded Were asked.
    “No, actually not,” I told him.
    “He’s not going to keep on helping you out for nothing,” Furnan said, and my whole head snapped around so I could look at this man.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “A thank-you and a kiss ain’t going to hold him. He’s going to demand payment sooner or later. Won’t be able to help it.”
    “I don’t recall asking you for advice,” I said. He stepped closer. “And you keep your distance.” I let my gaze roam to the houses surrounding us. The watchful gaze of the community was full upon us; I could feel its weight.
    “Sooner or later,” Furnan repeated. He grinned at me suddenly. “I hope it’s sooner. You can’t two-time a Were, you know. Or a panther. You’ll get ripped to shreds between’em.”
    “I’m not two-timing anyone, ” I said, frustrated almost beyond bearing at his insistence that he knew my love life better than I did. “I’m not dating either of them.”
    “Then you have no protection,” he said triumphantly.
    I just couldn’t win.
    “Go to hell,” I said, completely exasperated. I got in my car and drove away, letting my eyes glide over the Were as if he weren’t there. (This “abjure” concept could come in handy.) The last thing I saw in my rearview mirror was Patrick Furnan sliding his helmet on, still watching my retreating car.
    If I hadn’t really cared who won the King of the Mountain contest between Jackson Herveaux and Patrick Furnan, I did now.

Chapter 15
    I WAS WASHING the dishes I’d used as I cooked for Calvin. My little duplex was peaceful. If Halleigh was home, she was being quiet as a mouse. I didn’t mind washing dishes, to tell you the truth. It was a good time to let my mind drift around, and often I made good decisions while I was doing something completely mundane. Not too surprisingly, I was thinking of the night before. I was trying to remember exactly what Sweetie had said. Something about it had struck me wrong, but at the moment I hadn’t exactly been in a position to raise my hand to ask a question. It had something to do with Sam.
    I finally recalled that though she’d told Andy Bellefleur that the dog in the alley was a shapeshifter, she hadn’t known it was Sam. There wasn’t anything strange about that, since Sam had been in a bloodhound shape, not his usual collie form.
    After I’d realized what had been bothering me, I thought my mind would be at peace. That didn’t happen. There was

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