Page 8 - Breakdown
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position. There were muskrats and beavers
gnawing on shiny, varnished tree chunks.
Scattered among all the dead animals were
little stuffed mice frozen in mid-scurry.
“We used to own a taxidermy. Merl here is
a real artist, isn’t he?” She motioned to all the
alive-looking animals that were very dead.
“Yeah,” replied Owen. “He, ah, sure did a
great job.”
“He still does,” LouAnn said. “He still stuffs
animals. You got a dog or a cat you just can’t
go without? Merl here can make it look so real
you’ll want it to curl up at the foot of your bed.”
Merl looked bashful. “I sure can. Them are
my favorite projects.”
“Can you stuff a human?” Owen said just
loud enough for Maddy to hear.
She burst out laughing, then tried to
gracefully switch subjects. “Sooooo . . . My
mom. She is a detective for the St. Paul Police
Department. Her name is Eleanor Connelly.
She may have passed through here.”
LouAnn interjected, “She sure did. That’s
why I invited you in.”
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