“Dinner?” I sounded like a parrot, a very stupid parrot.
“Or maybe you’re busy.” He seemed uneasy.
“No, I’m free. I just need to finish up a few things,” I said.
“Great. Look, I’m sorry if I—” He cleared his throat. “Waters saw you, leaving our hotel. She reamed me out for getting involved with you. Said it was bad to mix with local law during an ongoing investigation. Told me I needed to think with my other head and not be seduced by every handsome man I met.”
“Waters called me handsome?”
“She transferred me off the case, to teach me a lesson. Now that the case is over,” he stepped closer, “Mom’s not watching.”
“You sure she hasn’t put a tracer on your car? Maybe a bug on your phone?”
He grimaced. “Not funny. She really is a control freak.”
“Give me a half hour?” I tried to recall if I had aftershave at the station. I had a clean black shirt hanging on the back of my door. I could change into that.
“Okay. Meet at Quinn’s?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
After he left, I counted to twenty, slowly. Then I rifled my drawer and found deodorant, aftershave, a comb, and a spare pair of underwear, socks, and jeans. I changed in the locker room, after I’d checked that it was empty. I buttoned my black shirt and brushed at a smudge on my cheek.
The door squeaked open. Billy stepped inside. He saw me at the sink and stopped.
“You coming in?” I asked.
“You mind?”
God, was he scared of me? Had I made him that way?
“Billy, you work here. You can come in anytime.”
He said, “I was gonna brush my teeth. I’ve got a date after work.”
“Girl from the video store?”
He slammed his locker shut. “How’d you know that?”
“Small town.” I’d overheard Finnegan making remarks.
“Great. That means Mom knows, and she’ll be asking questions at Sunday dinner.”
I unbuttoned my top shirt button. Better.
“You got a date?” He lowered his eyes to the sink. For a moment, he’d forgotten. That my date would involve another man.
“Matter of fact, I do,” I said.
Billy squeezed paste on his toothbrush. “Good luck,” he said. His cheeks were aflame.
He was trying. I needed to reward the effort.
I met his gaze in the mirror.
“Thanks, Billy, but I don’t need luck.” I winked and left the room, whistling.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you is a phrase that is lovely and warm, but it falls short of expressing what I mean. I want something larger and richer to tell these folks how much I appreciate them, owe them, and love them. Thank you is the best I have, though.
So many thank yous to my agent, Ann Collette, who is a tiger fighting for and with me, and whom I trust when she tells me she loves my work, because she doesn’t suffer fools or poor prose! Equal thanks to my editor, Dan Mayer, whose good opinion means the world to me. I feel lucky to have him looking over my shoulder.
Thanks to friend and critiquer Elizabeth Chiles Shelburne, who took time from her busy schedule to read my fledgling work. It’s much better because of her.
I owe tons of thanks to Jamie Severson, who does everything, including laser-cutting, painting, marketing, and author wrangling. She’s also a terrific person. Ride or die, girl.
Belated thanks to Peter Ruggiero, who let me interview him about life in Connecticut during the 1990s. Thank you for sharing your time and wit with me.
Gratitude is due to Lynne Barrett, who taught a session on plot at the Muse & Marketplace conference that was helpful and stuck with me, given the recurring Hansel and Gretel theme in this story.
An orchestra of thanks to Joe Murphy, who read my reviews for me, so that I’d believe everyone loved my work, which was hella kind.
Special thanks to Karen Brennan and Jeff Hawson, dear friends who helped copyedit Idyll Threats and didn’t complain that it’s the worst possible way to read your friend’s book. Promise I won’t do it again!
Big canine hugs to the original Skylar, who inspired her namesake. Thanks for all the doggy comfort, you big, sweet dog.
So much appreciation is due for my fellow Novel Incubees and my SSB authors who’ve been supportive and helpful and funny. To all the very generous mystery writers who welcomed me into their weird, fantastic group with open arms. I’ve come to learn that people who think about how to kill other humans are some of the nicest people you’ll meet. Special thanks to Lisa Alber, Cindy Brown, and Bill Cameron, who made me feel at home in a city where I knew no one.
Big ups to all the booksellers who hosted me or recommended my books to their buyers. Special thanks to my local indie, Porter Square Books, and to Gary, who always greets me as a “bestselling author,” which is a stretch my ego appreciates. And thanks to librarians everywhere. You’re wonderful. Keep fighting the good fight.
A very special thank you to Mercedes Hightower, who wrote the world’s most effusive Goodreads review of Idyll Threats. Writing this book wasn’t always easy. So I printed your review, Mercedes, and hung it near my desk. When I was tempted to not write or to stop early, I’d look at your words and say, “Mercedes wants another book, and she deserves it.” You’re part of why this work exists. Readers, never doubt your power. Your enthusiasm for an author’s work matters. It urges us on.
To my friends and family, whom I love, and who love me in return, everlasting thanks.
To my partner, Todd, you’re funny and smart and I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stephanie Gayle’s Idyll Threats is the first book in the Thomas Lynch mystery series. Stephanie’s fascination with crime began when she attempted, at age four, to outsmart a policeman. After flirting with the idea of becoming a defense attorney and then working a few weeks as a paralegal, she decided writing crime fiction would be more satisfying—and fun. Her first novel, My Summer of Southern Discomfort, was chosen as one of Redbook’s Top Ten Summer Reads and was a Book Sense monthly pick. She has also published stories and narrative nonfiction pieces, including two Pushcart Prize nominees.
Idyll Fears Page 31
