by Roslyn Woods
“That’s what Patrick calls her!” said Shell.
“I can’t stand her,” said Gina. “She’s always been a snot, and I think she’s the one who told the cops about my relationship with Micky.”
“I have to admit,” Shell added, after they were all in the car, “I kind of enjoyed that little episode. Brigitte was squirming!”
“Why do you think she was buying negligees?” Gina asked.
“She’s having an affair with somebody,” Shell replied.
“Oh my God!” said Margie. “Jeremy?”
“I don’t know,” Shell answered. “Gina and I are going to have to tell you what we saw on our way home this afternoon.”
Chapter 17
It was cold and overcast again. Margie was dressed for work in jeans and a long-sleeved purple tee. She twisted her curls into a Bohemian updo and put small gold studs in her ears before donning her turquoise jacket and a creamy cashmere scarf Shell’s mom had sent at Christmas. I made one for Shell and thought her best friend might use one too, her note had said.
“I have to stop by my house to leave Tabitha,” she told her friends as they finished their coffee. “I’m hoping the windows will have been fixed!”
“You know,” said Shell, putting her mug down, “you can leave Tabitha here.”
“You’re not even supposed to have pets,” Margie answered. “What if she starts barking? It could be bad, and I don’t want to be responsible for you getting evicted!”
“There’s hardly anybody in the complex during the day. The likelihood is that no one would even hear her,” Shell argued.
“I’m not taking that chance,” her friend responded.
“But you’re coming over here to get ready for your date,” Gina said hopefully.
“It’s not a date!” Margie iterated emphatically. “It’s—”
“Dinner and a poetry reading in a new outfit,” Gina finished for her, smiling.
“Okay,” Margie admitted. “I like him. So that’s out there. But he doesn’t see it as a date, and he’s made that perfectly clear.”
“He bought you a poetry book yesterday,” said Shell.
“I can’t think of anything more romantic,” Gina added.
“He wants us to be friends. That’s really what I want, too,” she said frowning. “It’s just, I think he’s sort of attractive.”
“I can’t wait to get a look at him!” said Gina.
“He’s handsome,” said Margie, bending down and gently picking up Tabitha who had been patiently wagging her tail as she stood at her feet.
“Then that works,” said Gina, “because you’re gorgeous. A match made in—”
“Don’t say that. And I’m not gorgeous. It’s an evening out. Let’s not make it into anything more than that!”
“Okay,” said Shell. “You’re right. You’re not even through with dealing with Jeremy. One guy at a time!”
“Exactly,” Margie agreed, rubbing the top of Tabitha’s head. “I thought you were agreeing that I’m not gorgeous,” she added with a chuckle. “Look girls, Tabitha’s feeling better!” The little dog was wagging her tail, and every once in a while she let out an excited bark.
“She started out cute, but she’s getting cuter by the minute!” Gina responded before returning to the former subject. “Anyway, I’m so glad he’s picking you up over here!”
“But I’m staying at my house tonight,” Margie said as she bent down to install the dog in her travel crate.
“No, you’re not!” said Shell.
“I can’t just keep dropping Tabitha in your lap!” Margie said as she closed the latch.
“Actually,” said Shell, “you can and you should. Friends take care of each other’s pets. That’s just a normal thing.”
“Oh, you don’t know!” said Margie.
“I do too know! It’s fine if you want her to stay at your place during the day. I don’t think Jeremy will do anything in broad daylight, but I want you both staying here tonight. You yourself told me you were afraid he’d kick her!”
Margie opened the front door and chewed on her lip for a minute while Gina looked on, first at Shell, then at Margie.
“Okay, Mom,” the redhead said.
“Okay. That’s settled, then,” said Shell.
“You know, I’m not the one who thinks I’m invincible,” Margie added. “You were the one who was reckless enough to go see Irving Jansen and walk right into an empty house with him only hours after he killed his wife in cold blood!”
“We don’t know that! But I won’t do it again,” Shell hastened to add, throwing her hands up in defeat. “You’re right.”
“Damn right I’m right,” Margie said with a triumphant smile, and she carried her purse and Tabitha’s crate out of the apartment and shut the door behind her.
Gina turned and looked at Shell. “Does she always get the last word?”
“Yeah. But look who won! She’s staying here tonight.”
“Thanks for helping me with my hair and makeup, Shell,” Gina was saying as Shell drove toward UT. “You and Margie are both so nice! I never felt like I looked okay before.”
“You don’t just look okay. You look really great!” Shell said. “And that new coral shirt really brings out the chestnut highlights in your hair.”
“I wore it for you. No one’s going to see it under my jacket,” she said with a laugh. There was a short silence before she went on, “You know, I felt so bad after Micky and I broke up, I just thought I’d crawl into a hole and die. It’s been months, and all I can feel when I think of him is what a failure I am and how much I miss him. It doesn’t help that I’ve been feeling so insecure around guys.”
“I’m really sorry, Gina. So you still care?”
“Sure. A lot of good that does.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t really know. We argued about something trivial, and I sort of got my back up, and so did he, and I said goodbye, and he said goodbye, and he never called again.”
“So which one of you broke up?”
“I’m not sure. He did, I think.”
“Have you thought of calling him?”
“Oh God, I’d never do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she started to answer and paused before going on, “because I’m afraid of making myself vulnerable, I guess.”
“That might be how he feels.”
“I don’t think so. He won’t even look at me.”
“Maybe he feels hurt. You could arrange to run into him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just be somewhere and bump into him and say hi, ask him how he’s doing, something like that. You should at least break the ice. You don’t have to tell him how hurt you are.”
“I’m not sure I have the courage. Besides, I’ve seen him at the co-op and he judiciously avoids looking at me.”
“When Patrick and I talked to him the other night, I was surprised at how articulate he is.”
“Oh yeah. He’s the smartest guy I know, and he’s just so cute.”
Shell smiled before she said, “Well, maybe we can think about it and at least find a way for you to be friendly again.”
“No.”
“It’s kinda weird, Gina, because I was going to contact him today to see what the detectives asked him yesterday. I feel like I need to know what he told them and how they reacted.”
“I don’t want to be any part of that.”
“But it’s perfect! You would be on neutral territory, and it would force a normal conversation between you. Besides, I’d be there the whole time so neither of you will be tempted to get into a personal argument or anything like that. And, by the way, you look great today. Why not now?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was thinking of asking him to meet me at Quack’s for a coffee. He could meet both of us there.”
“If he knows I’m coming he won’t go.”
“I won’t te
ll him, then.”
“He might like the idea of you asking him for coffee, Shell.”
“I honestly didn’t get any interest vibe. Besides, he thinks I’m with Patrick, and he knows we’re trying to figure out what happened to Dr. Leone.”
“I just don’t think I’ve got it in me.”
“How about this? I’ll contact him and send you a text about the plan. You can walk into Quack’s and I can ask you to join us. I’m sure he’s noticed we’re friends.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it.”
Chapter 18
The rolled fondant was smoothed on six tiers for two wedding cakes, and Margie was just taking a crumb-coated tier from the freezer when she heard the bell out front.
Pete, where are you when I need you?
He had said he would be back in ten minutes, and it had been thirty. That guy was really taking advantage of her good nature. She had been working extra hard and extra fast in order to make up for missing work yesterday, and these interruptions weren’t helping her finish three wedding cakes in one day. It was nearly impossible to decorate cakes while handling customers.
“I’ll be right there!” she called, rinsing her sticky fingers at the sink.
“No rush,” said a man’s voice.
Margie felt her back stiffen as her blood ran cold. The voice wasn’t anticipated, and she was almost positive who it came from. Her mind started going over her options. There were really only two. She could run out the back door, or she could face him in the store.
Drying her hands on her apron, she looked around the kitchen. Without more than a second’s consideration, she picked up the big knife she used to cut brownies.
There are cameras. Would he dare to do anything stupid? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the voice just sounded like his. Maybe—
“Are you there?” he called.
“What do you want, Jeremy?” she asked coming out of the kitchen holding the knife.
“Hi,” he said with a sinister smile. “I like your hair like that.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Jeremy? You’ve vandalized my car and my house, and you’ve been served a restraining order. You could be arrested for coming in here.”
“It’s a business! How do I know where you work? I’m just here to get a croissant and…” his voice trailed off, the malevolent look in his eyes becoming more intense by the second, “and give you a piece of my mind, you little bitch! I ought to slap you cross-eyed,” he said, picking up the large, mock wedding cake that sat on the counter and throwing it against the wall behind Margie. It broke into parts, and the glass pillars that held up the second and top tiers shattered noisily behind her as she stared at him in stunned silence. “What the hell makes you think you can have me served a restraining order?” he asked.
“You’re insane, Jeremy! You need to—”
Just then the glass doors behind him swung open and Donald Carter walked in like a cowboy entering a saloon and ready for a brawl. Jeremy turned and looked at the man in the cowboy boots, startled.
“Well, hello again,” Donald said to him, his voice even deeper than Margie remembered it. He was taller than Jeremy, and considerably broader at the shoulders. He didn’t even look at Margie. “How about you and I have a little talk outside, Jeremy?” he said, stepping very close to the shorter man, his voice almost a whisper.
“Who the hell are you?” Jeremy asked, taking a step backward, the pitch of his own voice rising.
“I’m the guy you almost ran down in the parking lot at the library the other evening.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Sure you do, Jeremy,” Donald said evenly.
“Donald, don’t fight with him! He’s not worth it!” Margie heard her own voice.
“See?” said Jeremy. “She doesn’t think I’m worth it! Why get yourself in trouble fighting someone in a public place?”
“Because I think I’d enjoy it,” Donald said. “Either step outside and talk to me, or I’ll take you outside.”
Margie looked on wide-eyed. Donald certainly looked more powerful than her ex, but Jeremy had bragged to her about his fighting skills more than once, and she didn’t know what to believe.
“Look,” said Jeremy, “I don’t want to have to hurt you. I just came by to talk to Margie, and our conversation is none of your business! You can’t come in here and tell me to step outside!”
“Okay, I gave you a chance,” said Donald, stepping between Jeremy and the counter and giving him a forceful shove toward the entrance. Jeremy nearly lost his footing, but in a moment he was standing up straight again, and he stepped forward swinging his right, his eyes on Donald’s jaw. The larger man easily blocked him and shoved him again. This time Jeremy’s head and back hit the metal door frame.
“Shit!” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I haven’t done anything to you!”
“Maybe not, but I’m about to do something to you,” Donald said taking a step toward him.
“Wait!” Jeremy shouted.
“It’s too late for that.”
Donald grasped Jeremy’s shirt at the collar and twisted as he lifted him and pushed his back against the glass doors, forcing them open while Jeremy tried vainly to push back. Donald was bigger, heavier, and a lot stronger.
In another moment, Margie could see that her ex was lying on the pavement outside Pete’s Perfect Pastries with Donald Carter looking down at him. The glass doors of the bakery had closed behind them just after Jeremy shouted, “I think you’ve broken my tailbone, you asshole!”
Margie couldn’t be absolutely sure what Donald said back, but whatever it was inspired Jeremy to get up and run, broken tailbone and all. She watched from inside the bakery as Donald stared after Jeremy backing the yellow car out of its space and squealing out of the parking lot.
She pushed through the doors and went to stand beside her new friend.
After a few seconds he spoke,“When did you get there?”
She could see that his breathing was more rapid than usual, but he wasn’t winded. He was angry.
“Just now,” she said.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. What are you doing here, anyway?” she wanted to know.
“Uh, I just had Chinese food across the way at The Golden, and I thought I’d come over here and get a piece of cake.”
It’s quite a distance from your office.
“For dessert,” she clarified.
“Right.”
“You’re getting a whole cake.”
“I am?”
“What do you like?”
“Tell me which ones you make.”
“I make all the cakes.”
“Well, which one’s the best then?”
“That’s a tough one. Do you like carrot cake?”
“Sure.”
“And there’s chocolate cake, too.”
“I want to buy your favorite cake,” he said, his breathing slowing a bit.
“Hmm. You’ll have to get that one from my kitchen. So far, Pete won’t let me make my own recipes at the bakery.”
“Well, I’ll take the carrot, then.”
“It’s a good choice.”
They walked into the bakery, and Margie went behind the counter, stepping over the broken cake parts, glass and broken styrofoam crackling under her shoes. She took a large carrot cake from the refrigerated glass case while Donald watched. With a few graceful moves, she slid it into a white box with the bakery logo on the side and taped the lid shut before turning and placing it on the counter.
“The other psychologists at my office are going to be glad I stopped in here.”
“But you’ll have a piece, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” he said before adding, “More than one, no doubt.” He reached for his wallet.
“Uh-uh,” said Margie. “This one’s on me.”
“No, I should pay.”
“Not this time,”
she said seriously. “You know, if your psychology gig doesn’t work out, I know a bakery that could use a good bouncer.”
“Yeah? I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “See you at six?”
“Yeah.”
Chapter 19
Shell’s laptop was opened to a page on knife sharpening as she sat in the corner at Quack’s sipping coffee. She had sent a text thirty minutes earlier to Gina, and she was hoping her friend would show up.
“Hey there,” said Micky Lindstrom, dropping his pack on the empty chair beside her and seating himself across from her. He looked lanky and tousled as usual, his blue shirt easily visible inside his open jacket, his pale blue eyes even more striking than she remembered them.
“You just get out of class?” she asked.
“No. I had a meeting with Dr. Moreno.”
“I talked to her yesterday, too. You aren’t by any chance the person who told her I found Dr. Leone are you?”
“Guilty. But I probably wasn’t the first,” he said, his dark brows knitting together.
“Not that it matters,” Shell added hurriedly. “It’s just she told me that people told her about it, and I wondered.”
“I think everybody from the co-op is talking about it.”
“When I saw her, she asked a lot of questions about Dr. Leone,” Shell said.
“I know. She’s really upset about it. You going to the memorial tomorrow?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes.”
Just then the door of Quack’s opened and Gina walked in, the collar of her coral top showing inside the V of her coat, her newly fluffed hair looking shiny and stylish. It was the first time Shell had taken in the transformation from a distance, and it was definitely noticeable.
Gina spotted them and walked over to their table with just a bit more confidence in her step than Shell remembered.
“Hey, Gina,” said Shell, “Join us?”
“Sure,” she answered, barely glancing at Micky, but nodding at Shell as she seated herself in a chair between the two of them.
