Mr. Kiss and Tell by Rob Thomas Page A

case
. “How are you? Is Weevil…I mean, Eli, here with you?”
    The woman’s lips tightened, almost imperceptibly. “Eli doesn’t come to Mass anymore.”
    Veronica wasn’t sure what to say. Jade’s expression was hard, accusatory.
    “You know, Eli used to talk about you all the time. Hard-ass Veronica Mars who didn’t take any crap and who helped him out of more jams than he could count. I wonder if you think you helped him by getting him back on that bike.”
    “I didn’t get him back on that bike,” Veronica said. “But let’s not kid ourselves. Becoming ‘old Weevil’ probably kept him out of prison.”
    “For the moment.” Jade shrugged. A splotch of red from the stained-glass window fell across her dark hair, giving it a bloody cast. “But that won’t be much comfort if he gets busted for something he’s actually done. He’s back in the game now, Veronica. He thinks I don’t know, but I’m not stupid.”
    A half-dozen rejoinders popped into Veronica’s head.
What did you want, Jade? For him to sit back and let some lying opportunist deliver him to Lamb’s doorstep like a pizza? Sure, you’d be able to visit your morally upright husband in prison on the weekends. That’d be a real consolation.
    Instead, she opted for diplomacy.
    “Look, he’s trying to make things right. Has he told you about the lawsuit? If he wins, it’ll totally vindicate him. Lamb will look—”
    “I don’t give a
fuck
how Lamb looks. And neither does Eli. That’s all you.” Her voice dipped to a hiss when she swore. She quickly crossed herself, and for a moment she seemed to be fighting for control. Then, shaking her head, she simply turned away and hurried toward the door, Valentina’s tiny face watching Veronica over her mother’s shoulder.
    Veronica watched Jade go, fighting the urge to chase after her, to keep arguing. She’d never tried to frame herself as some quixotic warrior. She’d never claimed to be able to save anyone.
    But don’t lie to yourself, Veronica—it really does please you to believe you wear the white hat here in Neptune. Just you and your dad. But it’s hard squaring that noble idea with taking money from people whose hats are so unmistakably gray.
    She took a deep breath. Then she saw Gladys Corrigan disappearing out of sight into one arm of the transept.
    If she was going to act, she had to do it now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    A stairway in the transept led Veronica down to the cathedral’s subterranean multipurpose room. It was a large space with linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting, more high school cafeteria than Gothic catacomb. A kitchen was visible through an open door at one end. Several people sat talking and laughing at the long folding tables. Children ran around the open space, playing a game with rules obvious only to themselves.
    Gladys Corrigan came out of the kitchen balancing a silver tray heaped with Oreos. She placed it on a small table next to two large carafes of coffee, and was busily straightening the sugar packets when Veronica stepped up next to her.
    “Hi, Ms. Corrigan. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name’s Veronica. I met you at the Neptune Grand a few days ago?”
    The woman blinked rapidly, then took off her glasses and polished them on the edge of her blouse. “Veronica. Yes, I’m sorry, you startled me. Hello.”
    “It’s okay. I’m sorry to sneak up on you like this.” She smiled, doing her best impression of affable. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
    Gladys hesitated, her brow knit into a complex tangle of lines. She glanced around the room. “What is this about, dear? If it’s something work related, I can’t really…”
    “I’m trying to find someone…anyone…who can talk to me about Miguel Ramirez. You mentioned that you knew him through church. How well did you know him?”
    Gladys twisted her lips in a thoughtful pout. “Well, we talked after Mass sometimes. When my husband died a few years ago, he came by