By Kathy Hogan Trocheck
Refusing to think that her cousin's mysterious demise have been an coincidence, expert housecleaner Callahan Garrity starts off a deepest research of Atlanta's internal urban and the shady offers of her cousin's husband. Reprint. PW.
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Additional info for Homemade Sin (Callahan Garrity Mysteries)
Jean said sharply. “With his mama just dead and him right out of the hospital? ” Bruce sighed. He’d obviously expected this reaction. “The pediatrician recommended I talk to a psychologist and make an appointment for Dylan to start having counseling. Right away. Dr. Cook and I talked on the phone this morning and she said Dylan should be allowed to do something he enjoys. He loves those damn video games. Even the girls can’t beat him at them. ” “I guess you know best,” Jean said, but her voice said she 22 / KATHY HOGAN TROCHECK wasn’t so sure.
I guess I was coming back today, if only for Patti’s sake. On closer examination, I realized Father Mart was probably younger than I’d first assumed. Old-fashioned wirerimmed glasses and hair combed straight back from his forehead were probably deliberate attempts to instill confidence in a man still in his early to mid-thirties. His hair was nearly white-blond, instead of gray, and bright blue eyes blinked repeatedly behind those glasses. He had high cheekbones, a modified lantern jaw, and a deep voice that sounded too big for my aunt’s living room.
I peeled off a couple and walked inside the restaurant. The place was empty. I blinked and looked around. Well, almost empty. A rail-thin black kid, maybe seventeen, sat at a booth near the door, his arms on the tabletop, his head resting on his arms. He was fast asleep. “Excuse me,” I said loudly. “Are you-all open? ” A voice came from behind the row of stainless-steel cooking vats in the open kitchen area. “KWAN-TAY! Get up. ” Kwante stirred, raised his head, looked at me, then jumped to his feet.