By Nevada Barr
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Additional info for Anna Pigeon 08 Deep South
She'd forgotten to ask Frank for directions. " Getting lost was hard on a north-south road. If Anna stayed too long in Mississippi, her orienteering skills were bound to atrophy. Until an automobile struck a cow and a litigious citizen filed a lawsuit, animals on the road did not constitute an emergency. Anna drove the specified fifty miles per hour, windows rolled down. Green and blooming, the Trace meandered through woods and open glades. Where red clover did not lay its carpets of crimson, the sides of the road were neatly mowed to tree line.
His belly was round, his face oval and fleshy, his eyes bright St. Nick blue and his smile boyish. When he laughed, and that was often, the laughter was high-pitched yet pleasant. The kind of laugh actors love; one so infectious others must laugh along with it. Reverend Leo Fullerton was the youngest, midthirties at a guess. Dark hair, low over deep-set eyes, and a wide mouth set above a long chin lent his face a crushed and cruel aspect. His left eye was crossed and it was hard to tell where he was looking.
Anna had come to terms with tarantulas of the Southwest. She'd made every effort to refrain from annoying them. In turn, they stayed sedately on the ground. They did not drape one's corners and drop down one's collar. Soon, in this carport, there would be serious harassing of wildlife. Having looked carefully before thrusting her hand into the dark, she snatched the keys off the tire and fled back to the sunshine. She was of two minds about the house. Compared with her tower in Mesa Verde, it was completely lacking in charm.
Anna Pigeon 08 Deep South by Nevada Barr