Wells had any ideas about putting the make on me.
“I don’t suppose you’re free tonight?” he said.
Little did he know that I was free every night for the next three hundred and sixty-five nights.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m free.”
We agreed to meet at a French joint out in Santa Monica, the place he’d told me about, the one with the great pommes frites.
“Till tonight,” he said.
Then he blew me a kiss.
Uh-oh. What did I tell you? I smelled trouble in Codger City. To quote Mr. Goldman: Just because there’s snow on top, doesn’t mean the fire’s out down below.
Chapter Fourteen
K andi barely made a dent in her Shake-a-Salad. She was still too depressed to eat, a condition I’m sad to say I’ve never experienced.
So I ate her salad as well as my own. With extra dressing, if you must know. I tried to cheer her up with my Helga adventures, but she just lay limply on the sofa, smiling a weak smile, very Camille-on-her-deathbed.
I told her about my upcoming dinner with Wells and how I planned to pump him for information.
“You’re going on a date with Wells Dumont?” She sat up, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“It’s not a real date. We’re just having dinner.”
“That’s what’s known as a dinner date , Jaine. What if he gets fresh?”
“Don’t be silly. He’s not going to get fresh.”
“What if he tries to kiss you and his dentures come loose?”
“What makes you think he wears dentures?”
“I don’t know. I’m just guessing. The guy went to high school with Abe Lincoln, for crying out loud.”
“Wells is not going to try and kiss me,” I said with an assurance I didn’t feel.
“And what about the other suspects?” she asked. “Are you going to try and talk to them, too?”
“Sure,” I said. “As soon as I can.”
Which turned out to be a lot sooner than I expected. Because who should I run into on my way to the ladies’ room after lunch, but one of my prime suspects—Audrey, the woman scorned.
“Hi, Audrey,” I chirped.
She smiled coolly. “Oh. Hello, Jaine.”
I followed her into the ladies’ room, where she bypassed the stalls and headed straight for the mirror. Just as I suspected: The Ice Queen probably never went to the bathroom. I, on the other hand, had to take a tinkle badly, but somehow it didn’t seem very professional to conduct my investigation from a toilet stall. So I joined her at the row of sinks where she was fluffing her already perfect hair.
“What a tragedy about Quinn,” I said, fluffing my unruly mop.
I saw her jaw tighten.
“Yes, it was,” she managed to say. “A terrible tragedy.”
Why did I get the feeling she’d had hangnails that were more tragic to her than Quinn’s death?
“I still can’t believe someone hated him enough to poison him,” I went on.
“It’s not so hard to believe,” she said, applying lipstick with the expertise of a Clinique saleslady. “Quinn had a lot of enemies.”
“Yes,” I said, “I imagine he did.”
With you at the top of the list.
It occurred to me that I couldn’t go on fluffing my hair forever. I needed something else to do. I rummaged in my purse and found a lip liner.
“Interesting color,” Audrey said, as I started to put it on.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and realized to my dismay that it wasn’t a lip liner I’d fished from my purse—but an eyebrow pencil.
“Yes,” I smiled wanly. “Brown’s all the rage this year. I read it in Elle .”
Damn. Now I’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon with Burnt Ermine lips. Oh, well. I couldn’t worry about that now. I had an investigation to conduct.
“When I think of that scene in Muffy’s bedroom the other day,” I said, shaking my head somberly. “Imagine. Taking advantage of poor Vanessa like that.”
Audrey laughed a bitter “hah.” When she did, I could smell the distinct aroma of wine on her breath. Something told me Stan hadn’t been the only one drinking at lunch that
“I don’t suppose you’re free tonight?” he said.
Little did he know that I was free every night for the next three hundred and sixty-five nights.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m free.”
We agreed to meet at a French joint out in Santa Monica, the place he’d told me about, the one with the great pommes frites.
“Till tonight,” he said.
Then he blew me a kiss.
Uh-oh. What did I tell you? I smelled trouble in Codger City. To quote Mr. Goldman: Just because there’s snow on top, doesn’t mean the fire’s out down below.
Chapter Fourteen
K andi barely made a dent in her Shake-a-Salad. She was still too depressed to eat, a condition I’m sad to say I’ve never experienced.
So I ate her salad as well as my own. With extra dressing, if you must know. I tried to cheer her up with my Helga adventures, but she just lay limply on the sofa, smiling a weak smile, very Camille-on-her-deathbed.
I told her about my upcoming dinner with Wells and how I planned to pump him for information.
“You’re going on a date with Wells Dumont?” She sat up, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“It’s not a real date. We’re just having dinner.”
“That’s what’s known as a dinner date , Jaine. What if he gets fresh?”
“Don’t be silly. He’s not going to get fresh.”
“What if he tries to kiss you and his dentures come loose?”
“What makes you think he wears dentures?”
“I don’t know. I’m just guessing. The guy went to high school with Abe Lincoln, for crying out loud.”
“Wells is not going to try and kiss me,” I said with an assurance I didn’t feel.
“And what about the other suspects?” she asked. “Are you going to try and talk to them, too?”
“Sure,” I said. “As soon as I can.”
Which turned out to be a lot sooner than I expected. Because who should I run into on my way to the ladies’ room after lunch, but one of my prime suspects—Audrey, the woman scorned.
“Hi, Audrey,” I chirped.
She smiled coolly. “Oh. Hello, Jaine.”
I followed her into the ladies’ room, where she bypassed the stalls and headed straight for the mirror. Just as I suspected: The Ice Queen probably never went to the bathroom. I, on the other hand, had to take a tinkle badly, but somehow it didn’t seem very professional to conduct my investigation from a toilet stall. So I joined her at the row of sinks where she was fluffing her already perfect hair.
“What a tragedy about Quinn,” I said, fluffing my unruly mop.
I saw her jaw tighten.
“Yes, it was,” she managed to say. “A terrible tragedy.”
Why did I get the feeling she’d had hangnails that were more tragic to her than Quinn’s death?
“I still can’t believe someone hated him enough to poison him,” I went on.
“It’s not so hard to believe,” she said, applying lipstick with the expertise of a Clinique saleslady. “Quinn had a lot of enemies.”
“Yes,” I said, “I imagine he did.”
With you at the top of the list.
It occurred to me that I couldn’t go on fluffing my hair forever. I needed something else to do. I rummaged in my purse and found a lip liner.
“Interesting color,” Audrey said, as I started to put it on.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and realized to my dismay that it wasn’t a lip liner I’d fished from my purse—but an eyebrow pencil.
“Yes,” I smiled wanly. “Brown’s all the rage this year. I read it in Elle .”
Damn. Now I’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon with Burnt Ermine lips. Oh, well. I couldn’t worry about that now. I had an investigation to conduct.
“When I think of that scene in Muffy’s bedroom the other day,” I said, shaking my head somberly. “Imagine. Taking advantage of poor Vanessa like that.”
Audrey laughed a bitter “hah.” When she did, I could smell the distinct aroma of wine on her breath. Something told me Stan hadn’t been the only one drinking at lunch that
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