I hadn’t considered that side of things. From what Joy had told me, she wasn’t popular at the pretentious school to start with.
“Anyway,” Joy continued, “I guess I was just hoping to hear that progress is being made. It’s best for my parents’ health that this goes away as soon as possible.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my positive tone afloat. Unable to think of anything better, I borrowed a line from the TV detectives. “We’ll do everything we can.”
It seemed to satisfy her because she said goodbye and hung up.
I sank back into the couch with Meow, my stomach and shoulders feeling heavy now. What if our visit to Bergström today had gotten Mr. Black fired?
Lucky the new year hadn’t arrived yet, or I’d be off to a very bad start.
9
Connor texted me the next morning and asked if I could meet him for breakfast. On the drive there, I rehearsed how I’d break the news of the case.
“Do you want the good or the bad news first?” I’d smile charmingly so he’d remember that he liked me—really he did—before I continued. “The good news is, I’ve gone back to carrying my Taser and pepper spray around with me all the time.”
He’d be pleased to hear I was taking self-protective measures.
“The bad news is I agreed to help Etta and we got held at gunpoint yesterday. But they didn’t shoot.”
Hmm. That he would be less pleased about.
“You know that case you told me absolutely not to take? Um… we both know I’m not great at saying no, right?”
Perhaps I could put a better spin on it.
“Remember when you said that you admire how I look for the good in people?”
No. He wouldn’t appreciate having his compliment used against him. Especially when I got to the guns part.
“The bad news is I agreed to help Etta exactly how you told me not to. The good news is, I don’t want to talk about it, so we can go and ravish each other as soon as we’re done here.”
Yeah, maybe I’d go with that last one.
Connor was late. Which was almost unheard of, and when he arrived, he was wound as tight as Aunt Alice watching me drink from one of her precious crystal glasses. I could have been imagining it, but even his close-cropped hair seemed a touch scruffy. His embrace was still strong and warm, but his kiss was brusque.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course. Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t offer an explanation as to why, and his mask was firmly in place.
“It’s no problem. Just gives me an excuse to drink more coffee.” I grinned, but he didn’t look at me to notice it. “Are you sure you’re okay? What happened yesterday?”
“Let’s talk about something else. How’s your new client going?”
I would’ve preferred to talk about him, but I answered the question in the hope that my sharing would encourage his own.
“Interesting. I’ve never witnessed so much insincerity in my life. There are always two different conversations going on. If you read a transcript of it, you’d think they were kind and sweet, but when you can hear their voices and see their facial expressions and body language, it’s another conversation entirely.”
Connor was staring at the menu, unresponsive.
I slipped it gently away from him. “Something’s wrong.” I stated it as fact rather than asking him, hoping he might stop denying it. Might elaborate.
He did neither. “Sorry. This was a bad idea. Can I leave you to eat alone?”
“Um. Sure,” I said, wishing he’d speak to me but not wanting to force the issue.
He stood up, and I felt a flash of dread, quickly stifled.
Stuff it. I’d ask him outright rather than stew over it for however long it took him to talk.
“It’s… not about us, is it?”
His gray eyes caught mine for the first time today. “No. I’ll see you later.”
For a minute after he left, I sat there, sipping my coffee, wondering whether I still had an appetite for breakfast. A waitress passed carrying poached eggs with pulled pork, hollandaise sauce, and salsa.
Of course I still had an appetite.
It had been fifteen years since I’d visited the principal’s office. The last occasion had been about some chocolate pudding sauce that had mysteriously ended up on my bully’s chair, which my bully had then sat in. I was hoping this one would go better.
I glanced at my companion and experienced a flicker of doubt that it would.
She was dressed to impress in an ensemble of the most expensive clothes we owned. Her dress was Neiman Marcus, something she’d splurged on when she’d found it in a secondhand shop. Even secondhand it was almost more than she could justify. The shoes were Kate Spade. A gift from an admirer. And the jacket was one that Connor’s stylist had purchased for me when I’d worked as his Shade—part of an enforced makeover to bring me up to scratch with his public image. I’d since learned that most of that enforced makeover thing had been a farce, but I wasn’t sure how he felt about my general lack of style. Neither Etta nor I had a bag that would pass muster, so we’d left them behind.
I was dressed in smart business attire, also thanks to Connor’s stylist. A pencil skirt that was doing its darnedest to strangle my waist, and a loose-fitting silk blouse. While we’d done nothing to change our faces beyond normal makeup, the outfits were deliberately chosen to help our story fly, and Etta was ecstatic to be wearing “disguises” and going “undercover.” Her enthusiasm made me nervous. A lot of things about Etta made me nervous.
The Frederick Academy was a proud three-story, red-brick building with cream accents and pristine lawns. We made our way to the school reception, and I let Etta do the talking.
“I’m here to see Principal Gibson,” she announced imperiously to the woman behind the polished timber desk.
“Of course, ma’am. What time was your appointment?”
Joy’s phone call last night had given me the idea to seek out the principal. Because both the victim and the suspect were parents at her school, I figured she’d be stuck doing damage control. And since she was keeping abreast of the case, she might offer a unique perspective on the whole thing. If we could get past her receptionist guard and convince her to talk to us.
That’s what the clothes were for.
Etta pulled herself taller. “I wouldn’t think patrons of this school as generous as my family would need an appointment.”
The receptionist was unimpressed. Probably used to powerful, entitled parents pushing her around. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not allowed to let anyone by without an appointment. Perhaps if you give me your name, I can see if she’ll make an exception for you?”
“Mrs. Yale,” Etta said, naming the family we’d chosen to impersonate since I’d overheard mention of their significant donations. “I’m Timmy’s grandmother, and this is my personal aide, Isobel.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “That’s funny. I had the good fortune of speaking with Mrs. Yale at the gala dinner last month.”
Oops.
“Ah yes, you would have. My apologies, I should’ve been more clear.” Etta’s tone suggested the receptionist should’ve been less dense. “I’m Mr. Yale’s father’s sister, which makes Timmy technically my grandnephew, but we’re so close he calls me grandmother.”
Wow. Etta was good at this. She would make a way better Shade than I did. A much better honeytrap too.
The receptionist stapled some papers together. “Oh, I hadn’t heard the good news.” Her voice was chirpy, but there was an off-key ring to it that made me sense a setup.
“Good news?” asked Timmy’s alleged great-aunt.
“That Mr. Yale Senior found a sister he never knew about. The Yale family has been sending their children to this school for four generations, and Anthony Yale was an only child, at least according to our records.” She crunched the stapler again for emphasis, the way a judge uses a gavel, then picked up the phone. “Now, would you like
to leave, or shall I call security?”
“We’ll be on our way,” I said, just as two burly men burst through the doors, SECURITY in bold letters across their chest. They grabbed my arm, and I flicked a questioning glance at the receptionist.
She smiled. “Forgive me for misleading you. I have a discreet little button I can press with my knee to call these lovely men in here. Also, I’ve taken a photo of you both and will be handing it out to all security personnel. So don’t come back okay?” Her fingers were tapping away at the keyboard before we’d been hauled through the front doors. Apparently, our exit wasn’t even worth watching.
After we’d been escorted off the Frederick Academy grounds, Etta let go of the rich and powerful act and popped some gum into her mouth. “We would’ve gotten away with it if our intel wasn’t bad,” she griped.
Intel meaning the family name I’d given her. “How was I supposed to know the receptionist sees the grandparents at gala dinners?”
Etta shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I glanced over at her. It wasn’t like Etta to sound dispirited, and I felt a wave of compassion. “Is this investigation getting you down?”
Our efforts hadn’t been encouraging so far. Maybe it didn’t seem so fun anymore.
“Pah. I’m annoyed you don’t have more time to work on it today. I know we can’t all be retired and free, but I was hoping this morning’s lead would pay off so I’d at least have something exciting to chew over until tonight.”
Right. I should’ve known the only thing that bothered Etta was boredom.
Between my failed breakfast with Connor, a lunch date with Harper, and a long WECS Club function this afternoon, I was having to squeeze the case in between appointments. Pointing out to my investigation partner that we didn’t have any leads left anyway wasn’t going to help. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m free this evening,” I promised instead.
Besides, maybe I’d overhear some pivotal gossip at the WECS Club that would bring about a break in the case. Or maybe the Black family should’ve gotten a professional PI to investigate on their behalf.
I dropped Etta back to our apartment building and drove to meet Harper. Unfortunately, being alone in the car gave me an opportunity to think about Connor. Despite asking him outright about his unusual behavior this morning, my gut knotted with anxiety whenever my mind returned to it. Whatever was behind it, I’d never seen him so… distressed. That was the word. It scared me to imagine what might unsettle Connor so badly. Not bloody much. The worst part was he wouldn’t let me near him to help.
I’d love to ask Harper if she knew what was wrong, but chances were good she wouldn’t have any more answers than me. His family didn’t even know as much as I did—that the Taste Society existed and he worked for them. I resolved to keep my fears to myself.
Harper worked at an automotive repair shop in Silver Lake. I found a nearby parking space after a mere four laps around the block, located the faded red-and-white sign she’d told me to look out for, and entered the open garage. It was cooler inside than out and smelled of new tires, gasoline, and cleaning supplies. “Harper?”
Her legs emerged from under the Toyota Tacoma I was standing beside and startled the wits out of me. Luckily, it took another second for her head to appear so she didn’t see me jump.
“Izzy! Thanks so much for meeting me here.” She bounced to her feet. “Hang on, let me get these overalls off so I don’t get you all filthy when we hug.” Under the navy overalls, she was in shorts and tank top, despite the winter season. Her long, dark hair was tied out of the way in a messy plait, and a smudge of dirt lined one of her cheeks.
I wondered whether I had powdered sugar on mine from the apple strudel I’d picked up en route. Comfort food for the Connor thing.
She wrapped me in a dust, oil, and violet-scented hug. “I thought we should get to know each other since you’re the first girl my brother’s shown interest in for I don’t know how long. The test results came back clear this afternoon, if you hadn’t heard by the way.”
“Wait. Test results?”
“Mom’s. Don’t tell me Connor didn’t tell you?” She studied my face. “He didn’t tell you. Ugh. I warned you he has the social skills of a club-dragging Neanderthal, didn’t I? Mom went to the hospital early yesterday morning with chest pain. They treat that kind of thing very seriously of course. But they’ve scanned every inch of her heart and it’s as healthy as can be. So nothing to be concerned about. Not that Connor would take the doctor’s word for it. He’s being his overprotective self and demanding Mom stay with him for a while. Are you okay? I’m sorry to break the news to you like this.”
I was reeling in shock. And hurt. How could he keep this from me? What did he think I was going to do with the news? Sell it to the media? If he didn’t trust me to help him through this, what did that say about the future of our relationship? That was the crux of the problem. The core of my hurt. But it wasn’t Harper I needed to take it up with. I pushed the whole mess aside and focused on the woman in front of me.
“No need to be sorry. It took me by surprise, that’s all. But I’m so glad Mae’s going to be fine! That deserves another hug.”
Harper chuckled and hugged me again. I couldn’t help but compare that to Connor, who I’d never heard laugh. Snort in amusement once or twice, but never laugh. What would it sound like? Did he ever let his guard down enough to do that with anyone?
“How did you and Connor evolve from the same upbringing?” I asked.
Her gray eyes, the same shade as her brother’s, sparkled. I’d never seen his do that either. “I’ve often wondered about that,” she told me. “But we were night and day from the beginning. I’d be hammering my toy cars together in brilliant smash-ups worthy of an action film, and he’d ask me what happened to the people inside. Mom eventually came up with a story about how the cars were remote controlled, which seemed to satisfy him, but he was a solemn kid. And Dad passing away didn’t do anything to help that. But he’s become even more closed off over the years. I think his work, with all its classified stuff and seeing the bad side of human nature over and over again has made it worse. That’s why Mom and I were so relieved when he brought you home and you turned out to have a sense of fun. He needs that in his life.”
“Well, thank you.”
She waved a hand. “Pfft, thanks for putting up with him, and I’m happy to give you the inside gossip on Connor, but today I’d like to get to know you better. Let’s get some food first though. I’m starving.”
“Then you and I should get along great.”
We walked a few blocks to a simple, homey café called Modern Eats and seated ourselves by the window.
“What kind of car do you drive?” Harper asked. “I can tell a lot about a person by their car.”
“A twelve-year-old Corvette, but it’s a company car. I love it, if that’s helpful to know. Before that, I used to drive an ancient Ford Fairlane. I called her Gerry, short for Geriatric. What does that tell you?”
“That you used to be broke and you know nothing about cars.”
I laughed. “Correct on both counts. What clued you in?”
“Older Ford Fairlanes are unreliable gas guzzlers. I bet ol’ Gerry broke down on you at least three times. And the electrics are worse. You either spend a small fortune on upkeep or get used to not having any windows or central locking. The buying price is cheap, but it’s what they call a false economy. And the ’vettes are pretty reliable, but since it’s a company car, I’m not giving you any credit for that one.”
I nodded. “That’s impressive, but I can tell a lot about a person by the way they order food.”
“Really? Let’s order then, and you can tell me all about myself. This is going to be fun.”
By the time I left lunch with Harper, I was starting to think I was dating the wrong sibling.
10
I phoned Connor as soon as I was out of earshot.
Lucky for him, he picked up.
Or maybe it wasn’t lucky. Maybe I should’ve waited to get over my hurt a bit first.
I skipped the niceties and jumped straight to the point. “So I met with Harper just now, and she told me what’s been going on with Mae.”
“Right.”
“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me about it,” I said, trying to keep my tone very reasonable under the circumstances.
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Staying reasonable was going to be harder than I’d thought. “Didn’t think it was relevant? Of course it’s relevant! I care about you, and I care about your family.” Harper’s words echoed through my head. “I know it might be hard for you to be vulnerable, but if we’re going to do this, you need to let me in.”
He didn’t respond.
“You do want to do this, right?”
“Yes.”
That word, at least, seemed sincere. The pressure eased from around my chest.
“Well… good. You know, I can’t tell if you’re deliberately being obtuse or you really don’t understand how relationships are supposed to work.”
“Can’t it be both?”
If we’d been together, I would’ve hit him. Sure, it might have been more painful for me than him, but it would have been satisfying. Instead, I had to content myself with groaning.
He didn’t respond, of course.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Who?”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse again. How’s your mom?”
“She thinks I should stop being a nuisance and let her go home.”
“I agree with her. That you should stop being a nuisance that is. Not that you should let her go home.”
Connor snorted. “And you wonder why I don’t tell you anything.”
“Uh-uh. You can’t turn this around on me. You’re the one with communication issues, and the first step to dealing with it is accepting you have a problem.” I paused. “Do you? Accept that I mean?”
It took a very long time for him to reply. “I accept that you think I have a problem.”
Poison is the New Black: (Bonus story: Taste of Christmas) (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 3) Page 9
