Dumpster Dying by Michelle Bennington

Author:Michelle Bennington [Bennington, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Charade Media, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A banging on the kitchen door jerked Birdie awake. She blinked at the dim gray light of early morning as she struggled against the remnant haze of deep sleep. The banging sounded again.

“All right, all right,” she croaked, shutting the recliner footrest. Birdie cloaked herself in the blanket and stumbled toward the kitchen. She squinted at the clock on the stove. “Who in their right mind is knocking on my door at seven-thirty in the morning? Better be someone dead or dying.”

She peeked through the curtain.

Oda Dean glared at her. “Let me in, eejit.”

Birdie unlocked the door and turned away, shuffling toward the coffeemaker as Oda Dean let herself in. The air from her sister’s entrance sent a chill through the afghan holes, poking at her naked arms and legs. “Close the door,” Birdie groused.

Birdie stared out the window above the sink while she filled the coffee carafe. A thin blanket of fog covered the yard. Khan mercifully didn’t report to duty this early, and so didn’t sound the alarm of Oda Dean’s arrival.

“What in Sam Hill are you doing? It’s seven-thirty. And you’re not even ready.”

“I’m making coffee. What’s it look like?” Birdie dropped in a filter and filled it with grounds. “Looks like you’re already running on high octane.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

Oda Dean’s light floral perfume competed with the coffee. “Uh, hello. The MWC meeting at the church?”

Birdie slapped her forehead. “I forgot!” They sat on the holiday committee that put on the Thanksgiving community dinner and the Christmas bazaar each year. “I’m so sorry. I forgot all about it.”

“That’s just great.”

“I’m sorry.” The memory of last night flashed through her mind, and she shivered. “I found Jenna Lawson’s body in the dumpster behind Daisy’s Salon.” Birdie pulled a mug out of the cabinet and filled it with coffee and sweetened hazelnut creamer.

Oda Dean clapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, good gracious, I’m so sorry to hear that.” She moved a bag off a kitchen chair and dropped it under the table on top of a pile of books. She sat down. “What happened?”

Birdie cupped the hot mug and told her.

“How awful. Poor girl. I hope at least she didn’t suffer long. Her family must be devastated.”

“As far as I know, her father is her only family, and he’s in bad shape. Diabetes.”

“So sad all around.”

They sat quietly for a while. Birdie sipped her coffee. After it worked its beautiful magic, unfurling through her veins and injecting her with the ability to think, Birdie broke the silence.

“If you don’t care to wait a bit, I can throw myself together, and then maybe we can swing by Stella’s for a cake?”

Oda Dean frowned. “It’s not as good as your cake, of course, but it’ll do. If you think you’re up for it.”

Birdie stormed down the hall, pushing past piles of boxes and bags. After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of olive linen pants, a cream sweater, and brown sandals, and used a setting pomade to muss her hair to match her prickly mood.

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