21
The Tyranny of Cornhuskers
“You’re dead.” Bradley’s pronouncement fell somewhat flatly. He looked at Aunt Lula with suspicion. “I checked. You died twenty-six years ago.”
With the tarot deck clutched in her hand, Aunt Lula spun around on the ball of her foot. If she’d been creak-free before, she was downright agile now. “Bradley.” When he nodded, she said, “Mrs. A is very proud of you.”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked around the room.
“She’s not here. She’s gone”— Aunt Lula’s cheerful demeanor slipped around the edges—“to wherever it is that we go when we move on.”
“How do you know about Mrs. A if she’s moved on?” Bradley asked.
“I’ve been trying to keep an eye on Mallory, though it’s never easy for the dead to track the living. Your lives move with terrific speed from our persp
