CHAPTER EIGHT
I walked through my front door and a loud meow echoed from the kitchen. Ferdinand was waiting for his dinner and made sure I realized he was not a happy fat cat. Once I had filled his fish-shaped bowl with chow, I put the kettle on the stove to boil. I opened my vintage turquoise refrigerator to scrounge for something to eat. I grabbed a bag of romaine lettuce, an avocado and some leftover chicken and threw together a quick salad. The teapot whistled. As I turned off the burner, my phone trilled.
“ Hello?” I answered and stretched the phone cord over to the counter so I could make some peppermint tea and prepare my salad.
“ Hi, honey. It’s Mom,” said my mother like I wouldn’t recognize her voice after twenty-eight years. “Did you hear the news? Huey Long was murdered i
