hundred-dollar check. Lord knows I need the money. The twenty years I worked for Mrs. Avery I always did what she told me, never stole anything, never disrespected her--and, believe me, some days she almost drove me crazy.

"When Obama got elected something snapped in Mrs. Avery. I'd be working and she'd come get me, want me to listen to a second-rate DJ got rich sitting on his butt dissing poor people talk about American exceptionalism, ignoring the fact if he'd went deaf before he got rich, his cardboard sign would've been in praise of Obamacare.

"'Mrs. Avery, I don't have time for this! I got work to do.'

"'Listen, Shirley, you'll learn something.'

"'The man is out of touch, thinks black folks still saying 'right on, right on' and 'jive honky.'

"'Ya'llwant me to do?"

"Help me catch whoever killed Daddy."

Ruth Ann eyed Shirley toe to head, from her well-worn sandals to her extra-large gray sweat suit to her hair, a tangled mess. She forced herself to look in Shirley's steely brown eyes. "How do you propose to do that?"

Shirley smiled at her.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this? An hour ago a humongous tick with an hourglass on its back bit me. Its head is still in my neck. I may not have long to live."

"My sympathies lay with the tick."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, really. Stay here for a couple days."

"That's it? I guess I can do that."

"When the killer comes here, I'll nab him or her."

Ruth Ann cleared her throat. "What makes