only good thing about having a club membership until her husband two-timed her. I hope the guy I saw her with coming out of the club on Wednesday night treats her better.”
“Guy?” What guy? Greg Lucas was either killed on Wednesday evening or early Thursday morning.
Sherrie raised an eyebrow and studied me for a minute. Finally, she said, “The guy was a little shorter than Dana with brownish hair. I would have thought she would have been done with guys shorter than her after Greg, but I guess the rest of him was different enough to make her take a risk.”
“Different how?”
She smiled. “He was kind of scrawny and cute in an I-need-to-spend-time-in-the-sun kind of way. He even opened the car door for her. Greg would never have done that. Heck, if this guy wasn’t driving a Dodge Neon, I might have fought for him. A girl has to have her standards.”
Sherrie grabbed a glass of wine off the table and downed it. “Time to get my eyebrows plucked. I promised my mother.”
She sauntered back into the living room, leaving mealone and choking on my oatmeal cookie. Sherrie had just described Larry from the tip of his pasty white toes all the way to his budget car. What the hell was he doing at the Glen Country Club with his arch-nemesis’s ex-wife? Something told me that whatever Larry was doing, it couldn’t be good.
I was conflicted. The nosy part of me wanted to rush out the door, hop in my car, and find out what Larry was doing fraternizing with the yoga Nazi. The wimpy side wanted to stay indoors and hide from whoever was slipping veiled threats in my dance bag.
Wimpy sucked. I opted for nosy. But when I marched into the living room, I ran smack into a cloud of cloying perfume. My eyes began to water, and my nose twitched as women sprayed their wrists with Aunt Millie’s latest and greatest products. From the way the women in the middle of the room were teetering on their heels and slurring their words, I guessed they’d hit the free bar a bit too hard. Either that or Mary Kay’s new line of fragrances could be used as biochemical weapons. One spray and terrorists would start singing “Kumbaya.” Awesome.
I crept around the country club ladies, hoping no one would notice. Until I tripped on a pair of purple-and-gold heels and went crashing to the floor. Crap. All heads turnedin my direction. A blonde woman with no shoes and a smear of red lipstick on her cheek gasped and hurried over. Swaying slightly as she walked, she reached me and held out a hand. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how my shoes got over there.”
The woman grabbed my arm and tugged me to my feet. The minute I let go of her hand, she went flying four steps backward, tripped over the edge of the love seat, and went hurtling into the lap of a sleeping white-haired lady. The sleeping woman woke with a yelp and smacked the blonde with her purse.
The blonde shrieked. “How dare you?” And grabbed the purse with her newly manicured fingers. She cocked back her arm and prepared to let the purse fly when the tiny Eliza snatched the bag from her and smacked her from behind.
“Don’t you dare hit Melinda,” she hollered as the blonde grabbed a pillow off the love seat, glared at Eliza, and gave the pillow a fling.
The blonde had terrible aim. The pillow flew wide to the right and took out two dark-haired women in tennis attire. The blonde shrieked again and grabbed another pillow. Not to be outdone, Eliza took off her shoe. As footwear and foamed fabric flew, I headed for the exit. I closed the door on the sounds of primal screams and shattering glass.
I hurried down the drive, weaving in between the Lexus SUVs, and pulled out my cell. Aunt Millie answered her phone on the third ring. “Where did you go?” she yelled. Somewhere in the background I heard a groan.
“I got a lead from Sherrie and decided to check it out.”
“Kathleen, put down the vase this minute,” Millie yelled.
I looked back at the house and sighed. Leaving
“Guy?” What guy? Greg Lucas was either killed on Wednesday evening or early Thursday morning.
Sherrie raised an eyebrow and studied me for a minute. Finally, she said, “The guy was a little shorter than Dana with brownish hair. I would have thought she would have been done with guys shorter than her after Greg, but I guess the rest of him was different enough to make her take a risk.”
“Different how?”
She smiled. “He was kind of scrawny and cute in an I-need-to-spend-time-in-the-sun kind of way. He even opened the car door for her. Greg would never have done that. Heck, if this guy wasn’t driving a Dodge Neon, I might have fought for him. A girl has to have her standards.”
Sherrie grabbed a glass of wine off the table and downed it. “Time to get my eyebrows plucked. I promised my mother.”
She sauntered back into the living room, leaving mealone and choking on my oatmeal cookie. Sherrie had just described Larry from the tip of his pasty white toes all the way to his budget car. What the hell was he doing at the Glen Country Club with his arch-nemesis’s ex-wife? Something told me that whatever Larry was doing, it couldn’t be good.
I was conflicted. The nosy part of me wanted to rush out the door, hop in my car, and find out what Larry was doing fraternizing with the yoga Nazi. The wimpy side wanted to stay indoors and hide from whoever was slipping veiled threats in my dance bag.
Wimpy sucked. I opted for nosy. But when I marched into the living room, I ran smack into a cloud of cloying perfume. My eyes began to water, and my nose twitched as women sprayed their wrists with Aunt Millie’s latest and greatest products. From the way the women in the middle of the room were teetering on their heels and slurring their words, I guessed they’d hit the free bar a bit too hard. Either that or Mary Kay’s new line of fragrances could be used as biochemical weapons. One spray and terrorists would start singing “Kumbaya.” Awesome.
I crept around the country club ladies, hoping no one would notice. Until I tripped on a pair of purple-and-gold heels and went crashing to the floor. Crap. All heads turnedin my direction. A blonde woman with no shoes and a smear of red lipstick on her cheek gasped and hurried over. Swaying slightly as she walked, she reached me and held out a hand. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how my shoes got over there.”
The woman grabbed my arm and tugged me to my feet. The minute I let go of her hand, she went flying four steps backward, tripped over the edge of the love seat, and went hurtling into the lap of a sleeping white-haired lady. The sleeping woman woke with a yelp and smacked the blonde with her purse.
The blonde shrieked. “How dare you?” And grabbed the purse with her newly manicured fingers. She cocked back her arm and prepared to let the purse fly when the tiny Eliza snatched the bag from her and smacked her from behind.
“Don’t you dare hit Melinda,” she hollered as the blonde grabbed a pillow off the love seat, glared at Eliza, and gave the pillow a fling.
The blonde had terrible aim. The pillow flew wide to the right and took out two dark-haired women in tennis attire. The blonde shrieked again and grabbed another pillow. Not to be outdone, Eliza took off her shoe. As footwear and foamed fabric flew, I headed for the exit. I closed the door on the sounds of primal screams and shattering glass.
I hurried down the drive, weaving in between the Lexus SUVs, and pulled out my cell. Aunt Millie answered her phone on the third ring. “Where did you go?” she yelled. Somewhere in the background I heard a groan.
“I got a lead from Sherrie and decided to check it out.”
“Kathleen, put down the vase this minute,” Millie yelled.
I looked back at the house and sighed. Leaving
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