Beckett (Robinson Destruction #4) - Kathi S. Barton Page 0,67

You telling him that I might win the lottery someday was the funniest thing you could have said to him. Especially since I’ve never bought a lottery ticket in my life.”

“I thought he was just being funny when I think about his comment. But now that I’ve seen the man in action, I think he’s stupider than a bag of rocks. My goodness, he surely did let himself go, didn’t he?” She told her dad that he was also a diabetic. “And him down there at the bar drinking. There isn’t any help for people like him. You tell them and tell them, and it goes in one ear and right out the other.” Dad laughed. “I’ve been reading again. Some of them old books sure do have a saying for just about any situation.”

When she was feeling just a little better, she told her dad that she was going to try and get some sleep. Her head was still hurting, but not enough where it would keep her up. As she was dozing off, she heard her dad on the phone. While she wanted to ask him what was going on, she was too far gone to do so. Dad, her dad, could handle just about anything.

Chapter 11

Beck stood back and watched the lines he was sure the problem was coming from. Everything else that he’d tried kept having him end up here at the merge of the three lines together. He wouldn’t have done that, have three major lines meet in one place, but it seemed to be working well until the last couple of months.

I have two questions for you, then I’ll try not to bother you again. He smiled and told Allie that he liked her kind of interruptions. Thanks. I needed that. What do you know about a company named Hershel’s Baskets?

Nothing more than I’ve seen on television or in the paper. They make and deliver gift baskets, correct? She said they delivered them, but they didn’t make the baskets. Is that important? I mean, I’m sure that there are several companies out there that don’t make the gift baskets they fill.

This company claims they make them. And it’s a sticking point for a lot of people wanting to sue them. I have no idea why that matters—like you said, there are plenty of other companies out there that don’t make their baskets. He asked her what was going on. I’m doing another local job. Although this is far from local. The company is out west in California, and the police there heard that I could figure out crime scenes. That’s the second question I have for you. The first one was just a curiosity. The second question. Have you ever eaten or heard of head cheese?

I don’t think so. I mean, with a name like that, it doesn’t sound all that appetizing. It’s not made with heads, is it? She said that it actually was—pig head parts. Then absolutely not—I’ve not eaten any. He thought for a moment. Please tell me that is another curiosity question, and this place isn’t making this out of human heads.

They are, from what I can figure out. The police are still searching for ten to a thousand homeless. Don’t get me started on why the numbers are that far apart. They don’t keep track, they told me. Anyway, they sent the stuff in to be analyzed—just for fun, they told me—and it came back with human DNA in it. Like ninety percent of the shit is human. Beck felt his belly lurch a little. After it came back marked with several different DNA in it, the police didn’t have any idea where to go from there. It has them stalemated, I was told. They’ve not only not arrested anyone, but they’ve not gone there to find out what the fuck is going on either. Like they’re afraid they might well have eaten their brothers or something.

That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard of. She said there was more. I don’t want you to share. Please. Oh, Christ, that’s disgusting.

The other three here got sick from it too. Just thinking about it. I’m the outside the box thinker in this, and I’m too curious to figure out how they did it rather than be grossed out about it. So I’m going to go there in about an hour to have a tour. I’m taking not just your dad, but Thatcher and Dawson are going with me too. We