Naming the Worm
Miss Applegate,” Rita began and Faith held up one long bony hand stopping her. “Rita, I know it’s a Southern mannerism, but I just can’t let you call me Miss Applegate. It makes me feel like a hundred year-old white matriarch surveying the plantation. Not a feeling I care to cultivate.” Rita hesitated for only a moment. “Faith, at the risk of being rude,” a small smile played around her lips, “let’s just get right down to brass tacks. Who do you think killed my uncle Charlie?” Shaherazade and I exchanged a quick look before we settled our eyes on Faith who didn’t seem at all offended. Just sad. She ran that same bony hand across the waves of her white hair and looked off out the window as if the past could be found on the street outside. “I have a pretty good idea who it was. Proving it…