Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
He looked at the address printed in small black letters on the back of the brochure.
“If she is sick, we have a right to know so we can help her,” I said.
“We do not even know if this is for her,” Mason said, his voice rising. “Maybe she was picking it up for a friend at the church.”
“Well, who else would she be hiding it for?” I asked.
“I am not going to accuse my grandmother of keeping secrets based on a piece of paper,” he said.
“It is not just the paper,” I said, remembering the ivory hairbrush. “You know something is different.”
“We can not just go through her house looking for clues, Clara,” he said. “That is her privacy.”
“I am not talking about her cabinet,” I said. “Mr. Davis has handled her prescriptions since we were kids. He might know if she is taking something new.”
We walked out to the car without either of us saying another word, the tension sitting between us in the front seat.
The bell above the door at Davis Pharmacy chimed as we stepped inside.
