Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) by Gina Conroy

chemistry rivaling Regis and Kelly in their heyday. The studio audience laughing, applauding, cheering. Nods of approval from the crew and accolades from the director and producer made me euphoric. Like I could float through the interview. All my dreams, fulfilled. My hopes, reality. Tiny giggles erupted in my belly, then grew stronger.
    “Mrs. Duggins.”
    The assistant’s voice jerked me from my daydream. “Ms. Carson is ready for you.”
    My heart sputtered then revved to life, speeding up with each harried step as I followed her through the hall again. I considered saying a prayer, but I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Besides, God had never listened before. Why should I expect him to hear me now?
    No, I could live with the distance between us, but not the rejection.
    ***
    3:53 pm
    RAYS FROM THE SUN kissed the top of my head when I stepped out of KTXL. I slipped on my oversized sunglasses and inhaled the afternoon air. A sigh of contentment escaped. I wanted to celebrate. To shout to the world. The interview couldn’t have gone better if I had scripted it myself. Though intimidating on the phone, Jan Carson, the casting director and producer of the morning show, put me at ease. I managed to hide my hideous pinky nail. She loved my Dolce and Gabana boots and complimented my wardrobe choice, saying the stylish, warm feel was what they were looking for in a co-host. I wasn’t about to quit my job at the university, yet my instincts told me I should start drafting my resignation.
    I found Matt’s keys in my bag and switched on my phone. Glancing at the screen, I cringed. Twelve messages. Had Matt gotten into trouble at the Archaeology offices? I gave Candy strict instructions not to let him out of my office, not even for a bathroom break. My stomach grumbled. All I’d managed to eat today was a donut hole and half of Danny’s protein bar. The first message played as I climbed into Matt’s Jeep.
    Mom, where are you? Mother’s guilt awakened. I had forgotten Ben. It’s 3:00, and you’re never late.
    I gunned the Jeep and sped toward Ben’s school, listening to the remaining messages. By message six, Ben and Luke had decided to walk to the corner store for a soda, but it was the eleventh message that sobered me from my interview intoxication.
    It’s 3:30. Where are you? Matt’s picking us up so I’ll see you at home. Love ya.”
    “Oh, no!” Passing through the intersection, I ignored the No U-Turn sign and raced toward the university wondering if I’d find the “World’s Worst Mom” award under the Christmas tree this year. Tapping the steering wheel, I spoke Matt’s name into my iPhone and waited for him to answer, hoping he had enough sense to drive to the university. He answered on the fourth ring.
    “Matt, is Ben okay? Did you drive Luke home? Where are you now?”
    “Chill. Everyone’s fine. They’re here with me.”
    “And where’s ‘here’?”
    “At your office where you sentenced me to complete boredom.”
    I inhaled, sucking back lecture 135. The one on respect. “Thanks for getting Ben. Is he there? Put him on.”
    The phone rustled, and my youngest said hello.
    “Benny, I’m so sorry I forgot to pick you up. I had an interview at KTXL, and my cell phone was off.”
    “That’s okay.” His chipper voice melted my anxiety. “Luke and I had a blast playing video games at the store. You should forget us more often.”
    My spirit soared like the Benu bird. My youngest child, always the bright spot in my life. I didn’t have to worry about Ben. He would rise in brilliance and live up to his namesake. “I’ll be there soon. I promise to never forget you again.”
    “Did you get the job? Can you give me and Luke a tour of the studio?”
    “Slow down, kiddo. The interview went great, but I didn’t get the job yet.” Jan Carson said she’d call in a couple of days if a second interview was necessary. A couple of days seemed like eternity. “Can you put Matt on?”
    Something