Buku Hunter’s Moon by Cathy Clamp

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Hunter’s Moon by Cathy Clamp

Author:Cathy Clamp

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Published: 2006-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

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Hunter’s Moon by Cathy Clamp

Chapter 19

A moment later, we walked through the massive oak doors and I was greeted by my first sight of Sue’s mother. I had to admit that she was truly pathetic looking. I almost laughed but that probably wouldn’t set the right tone. Sue glanced at me but couldn’t read my expression. Blank is one of my best expressions—I’ve had lots of practice.

Myra Quentin sat in a wheelchair with a nurse standing primly at her back. Her face looked pained and her eyes were dark with a sunken appearance. She hunched slightly in the chair and rested heavily on one armrest. She made herself as small as possible by scooting in the seat. Her legs shook visibly from the strain.

 

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Hunter’s Moon by Cathy Clamp

Author:Cathy Clamp , Date: June 12, 2019

,Views: 35

Author:Cathy Clamp

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Published: 2006-06-11T16:00:00+00:00
Chapter 19

A moment later, we walked through the massive oak doors and I was greeted by my first sight of Sue’s mother. I had to admit that she was truly pathetic looking. I almost laughed but that probably wouldn’t set the right tone. Sue glanced at me but couldn’t read my expression. Blank is one of my best expressions—I’ve had lots of practice.

Myra Quentin sat in a wheelchair with a nurse standing primly at her back. Her face looked pained and her eyes were dark with a sunken appearance. She hunched slightly in the chair and rested heavily on one armrest. She made herself as small as possible by scooting in the seat. Her legs shook visibly from the strain.

The problem was, she smelled of deceit. Lies upon lies until the black pepper smell made my nose burn. She also smelled like that buzzard daughter of hers. Not Sue. The blonde witch. That made me immediately more wary than I might otherwise have been. Well, that and the sharp smell of vodka that hit me like a wind. Odd that Sue hadn’t mentioned mom was a drunk.

Myra’s eyes were bright with suspicion and anger. That’s not a real common trait in someone truly sick or injured. Pain dulls the eyes. If she had an injured hip she would favor it and keep weight off it. Sue told me it was her left hip that had been replaced. She should be leaning on the left hip, instead of the right, supposedly injured one.

When I looked closely, I could see that the pale face and sunken eyes were make-up. The dark circles from truly sunken eyes are actually blue from irritated blood vessels under the skin. Her “sunken” eyes were created by brown eyeliner. I could smell the waxy cosmetic. The dark wasn’t uniform, meaning it had been applied somewhat hurriedly. Her nose was slightly more pale than the rest. Tsk. A bit too much facial powder. She probably pays better attention to detail when she’s sober.

I glanced at Sue to see if she noticed. I could feel in my head her embarrassment and frustration at her mother’s transparent ploy. What I couldn’t figure out is why Sue had never called her on it. Part of me wanted to reach out and rub a finger through the liner and say, “Oops. Missed a spot.” But again, not the right tone.

I could tell Sue’s mother had once been a pretty woman. Now she was unattractive. It was intentional, which made it worse.

I decided to try a soft approach. I squatted down in front of the chair. I wanted to be eye to eye with her to watch her reaction. The smell of vodka nearly knocked me over. I had to breathe through my mouth to stay in character.

“Mrs. Quentin,” I said loud and slow, “my name is Tony Giodone. How are you today?”

Her eyes flashed with anger and her voice was filled with venom. I pretended not to notice. “I’m in pain, not deaf.

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