Free Blood Will Tell by Jean Lorrah Page A

herself right, and her punishment unfair. She had never totally respected her mother since.
    But there had been many more arguments, often precipitated by this same technique of evidence displayed until Brandy could take it no longer.
    No , thought Brandy, I will not be embarrassed, and I will not discuss these personal items with you, Mom. Let your technique backfire for once . So she said, “Thanks for helping me put things away, Mom. Come on—let's get your groceries home before they get too hot in the trunk."
    The doorbell rang. Who could that be at 4:30pm?
    It was Dan Martin. “Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes going immediately to the bandage on Brandy's forehead.
    “I'm fine. Just a little cut, all in a day's work."
    He still looked concerned. “May I come in?"
    “Sure,” said Brandy, opening the door wider, smiling at his hesitation. Most West Kentucky men would have barged right in. Martin took off his hat and sunglasses as he entered, laying them on the table by the door, beside Brandy's purse, badge, and gun.
    When he saw her mother, Martin paused. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company. I called the station. I don't have your home number."
    Brandy could see her mother adding up Martin's concern, Brandy's clean apartment, the two steaks and two potatoes—
    “This is Dr. Danton Martin, from JPSU. He's helping me with a case. Dan, meet my mother, Melody Mather."
    “I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Mather,” he said formally, showing his Yankee origins again. No man born in Murphy could have resisted the opportunity to flatter both women by saying something like, “I see where Brandy gets her good looks.” Dan Martin said, “I'm sure Brandy's told you about the mysterious death of one of our professors."
    “Brenda never tells me about her work."
    “You say you don't want to know,” Brandy pointed out.
    “I'd really like to know about cases in which no one is shooting at you, Dear."
    “I don't think Brandy is free to reveal the details until the case is solved,” said Martin.
    “Oh, wait,” said Brandy's mother. “Is this the case where a Satanic curse was put on one of the teachers, and he shriveled up and died?"
    “Oh, Lord,” said Brandy. “Where did you hear that?"
    “At choir practice. I hope it wasn't supposed to be a secret, Honey, because everyone's talking about it. A lot of the faculty and students come to our church, you know,” she added to Martin.
    Our church now , Brandy noticed. You hypocrite. You never set foot in church till you started going out with Harry Davis.
    “I'm sure they do,” Martin replied neutrally. “Brandy, I am sorry to interrupt your time with your mother. If you still feel up to going out, shall I pick you up at six?"
    “Yes, that will—"
    “Hiss! Yeeoowwwwrrrgh!"
    Sylvester stood on the kitchen counter, back arched, fur on end, yowling at Dan Martin.
    “He doesn't like men,” Brandy explained. “He was tortured by some low-life and left to die. I wouldn't let the vet put him to sleep."
    “It's all right, Fella,” Martin said to Sylvester. “You know I'm not the one who hurt you, don't you?"
    Brandy was about to tell him that Sylvester wouldn't even make up to Church, when the cat calmed, backed up a couple of steps, and sat down. He lifted a paw and licked it contemplatively, never taking his eyes off Martin.
    Martin's voice was hypnotic. “That's good. I won't hurt you. Good boy."
    To Brandy's utter amazement, Sylvester stood and walked cautiously toward Martin, who put out a hand. Again the cat skittishly backed off, but when Martin made no further motion he came up and sniffed the hand, then rubbed his face against it, marking Martin as his property.
    “Well I'll be damned,” said Melody Mather. “I never thought I'd see that animal get on with a man. Brenda, hang on to this one if you insist on keeping that beast."
    Martin ignored the unanswerable comment. “I grew up on a farm,” he explained. “I like animals, and I think