Free A Veiled Antiquity (Torie O'Shea Mysteries) by Rett MacPherson Page B

myself than to him.
    “What?”
    “Well, I stepped on something in the house that was sort of round and I fell. It was in the same area.”
    “I’m betting whoever was there that night dropped it.”
    “Yeah, and I’ll bet that if he or she didn’t have an extra, then they are having to get a refill.”
    “I’m already checking the surrounding pharmacies. I’ll get a list of everybody that got a refill or a replacement in the last week.”
    He was silent now. Neither one of us had much more to say to each other.
    “Anything you want to tell me?” he asked.
    I thought about the photocopies that Camille had. “Not yet. Maybe by this evening I will have something,” I said. “Maybe something from Marie’s.”
    He raised his eyebrows.
    I didn’t think there was any point in getting Camille involved in all of this if there was no reason to. I would just wait and see what the documents said first. Then I’d tell him.
    “Okay,” he said as he put his hat back on. “I hope your headache goes away soon,” he said.
    “Oh, I doubt that it will.”

Ten
    I was released from Wisteria General at noon. Rudy came with Mary to drive me home. Mom was waiting at the door as I came up the steps.
    “I can make you a bed on the couch if you want. I don’t think you should be climbing too many steps,” she said.
    “I’m fine. Really. I’m just a little stiff. All I did was bump my head. They just kept me overnight for observation.”
    She looked tired, I noticed. Dark smudges lay underneath her eyes, ruining her otherwise perfect creamy complexion. I wondered if she was tired from just being up in the middle of the night worrying about me, or from being up all night convincing Sheriff Brooke to call his truce. I was certain that Mother had pep-talked him just as Rudy had with me. This whole idea was probably Rudy and Mother’s to begin with.
    “Is that Speed Racer I hear coming in the door?” My grandmother of eighty-one years came in from the kitchen.
    “Hello, Granny,” I said.
    She gave me a hug. It was a warm, nurturing, loving hug. Then she smacked me on the butt as hard as she could. “You need a good spankin’, that’s what you need. You better take that offensive driving course that Tobias was telling us about at bingo last week.”
    “Granny,” I pleaded as I rubbed my backside.
    “I mean it,” she said. Her eyes were like my mother’s, dark-brown and large. Her skin was creamy and clear, too. But Granny had a square face and much higher, more prominent cheekbones than my mother.
    “I’ll be fine,” I said.
    “Well, I’m making you chicken and dumplings,” she said.
    That settled it. I wouldn’t feel bad for long. Chicken and dumplings was a cure-all. At least for me.
    “And,” my mother added, “I made a lemon chiffon pie.”
    Heck, I’d be doing a hoedown by sunset.
    I went up to my bedroom intending to lie down to take a nap. But I ended up in the office instead. I pulled some books off of the shelf and started thumbing through them. I wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, just everything in general. I was looking for information that would tell me the state of France in 1756. The Age of Voltaire seemed like a good place to start.
    The phone rang.
    “Hello?” I answered.
    “Hello, Victory.”
    “Oh, Sylvia. I probably won’t be in today, but I will be in tomorrow. I know the Octoberfest starts in three days.”
    “That’s quite all right, Victory. I’d like for you or Rudy to come by the Gaheimer House sometime today. I have something for you.”
    “Oh.” There was not much else I could say to that. Sylvia was not the type of person to give or buy things for people. I don’t think I’d ever received a gift from Sylvia in my life.
    “I’m in no hurry. Did you find enough bands for the bluegrass festival?” Sylvia asked.
    “Yes. It’ll work out great. There are thirty days to the Octoberfest, so I found ten bands. Each one will play three