Death by the Light of the Moon (19 page)

The only ghosts that would haunt the banks of the bayou were children. Stanford, Maxie, and Carlton, squabbling as they poled a boat in search of gators and gars. Miller, who'd no doubt done the same things for the same innocent reasons.

I tried to picture Carlton as a boy, to put aside the intense professor who'd given me both happiness and pain, who'd never freed himself from the influences of a decaying family. I wanted to see freckles, a gape-toothed smile, eyes bright with mischief or drowsy with idle daydreams. All I could see was Caron's face.

And as I walked back to the house to catch our ride to the airport and flights that would return us to Farberville, to the Book Depot, to Peter Rosen and his many talents, I heard Caron's voice.

“Mother!” she wailed. “This Isn't Funny!”

Also By Joan Hess

A Really Cute Corpse

A Diet to Die For

A Conventional Corpse

Dear Miss Demeanor

The Murder at the Murder at the Mimosa Inn

Strangled Prose

Roll Over and Play Dead

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DEATH BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON

Copyright © 1992 by Joan Hess.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 91-37884

ISBN: 978-1-4668-0762-4

St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

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