by Maria Geraci
Frida began making a fresh pot of coffee. “Shoot.”
“Do you ever wonder about . . . about your dad?”
“You mean our dad?”
Georgia’s head shot up.
“It doesn’t take a degree from Stanford to figure out we have the same father. Look at us. Do you really think we’d look this much alike with only half the same DNA pool? Mom wasn’t as free lovin’ as she wanted everyone to think.”
Georgia thought about it a minute. What Frida said made sense. “So who do you think our dad was?”
“I’m pretty positive he was this dude who left the commune after you were born. I was three, so I remember him a little.”
“Did you ever say anything to mom about it?”
Frida poured fresh water into the coffeemaker. It was such an ordinary thing to do while talking about something so extraordinary. At least to Georgia.
“Once, I did. She brushed me off, like she did whenever we’d ask too many questions. I always figured if he didn’t care to stick around, then I didn’t care to find out more about him.” She looked off into space for a moment then met Geor gia’s gaze head on. “Does it really matter, Georgia? Who our father was? Or if we even had the same father? You’re my sister in every way that counts.”
“Why don’t you want kids?” Georgia asked softly. “Is it because of, you know, the way we were raised?”
“I happen to think we were raised pretty damn well. So we didn’t have a house that was our own. And we moved around some. But we had a mother who loved us. She never hit us or screamed at us. We always had food on the table, even though the table was sometimes a blanket on the floor. We always went to school. And we got to do some pretty cool things. Like that summer we backpacked through Europe. Remember that?”
“I vowed I’d never go camping again.”
Frida snickered.
“Okay, so it was a good time,” she admitted.
“And look at how you turned out. You’re like a genius, Georgia.”
“I just studied really hard.”
“I studied hard too, but I didn’t get straight As or a perfect SAT score. I didn’t get into Stanford with a full scholarship.” Frida flipped on the coffeemaker and turned to stare at her. “The reason Ed and I don’t want kids isn’t because I’m scarred from my unusual childhood. The simple fact is I just don’t want them. This place,” she waved her hand around, “this is my baby. And Ed’s paintings are his.”
And I’m going to do everything to make sure you don’t lose it. She thought back to Dave’s reaction to her marketing plan for the Bistro. Maybe she should get Spencer’s opinion. “Let me look at that marketing plan again before I show it to you. Just to make sure I’m on the right track with it.”
Bettina came up to the counter. “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you two are talking about, but I just want you girls to know there’s no hard feelings. About the dress.”
“Gee, that’s really big of you,” said Frida.
Bettina handed her a flyer. “Would you mind putting this up in your window? It’s for a good cause.” The poster read: Pre-Demolition Derby, sponsored by the Bunco Bunnies and the Whispering Bay Beautification Committee. Help build Whispering Bay’s new recreation center. Own a piece of history for just twenty-five dollars.
“What’s this about?” asked Georgia.
“The senior center is being torn down first thing Monday morning so the Whispering Bay Beautification Committee, of which you might remember I’m head of? Anyhoo, the Bunnies, in unison with the Beautification Committee, have decided to help pick up the slack on fund-raising for the new rec center. We’re sponsoring a party Friday evening. It’s not anything fancy or dramatic like Black Tie Bunco, but I think we’ll manage to raise a pretty good amount.”
Frida studied the flyer. “You can tear down a piece of the center and take off with it?”
“Exactly,” said Bettina. “Isn’t that clever? I thought of it myself.”
“It sounds dangerous,” said Georgia, stacking up a pile of dirty coffee cups. “What are you going to do? Give everyone a sledgehammer and tell them to go for it?” The minute the words were out she wanted to bite her tongue. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Antagonizing Bettina wasn’t smart.
Bettina gave her a smarmy smile. “Of course not. Steve Pappas and Mr. Hunky are going to do the actual work. Mr. Hunky is bringing his hammer.”
Georgia nearly dropped the stack of cups in her hand. “I thought Dave left town.”
“Did he? Well, he’s back. And for twenty-five dollars he’ll tear down your very own tiny bit of history. It’ll make a great conversation piece for the living room mantel.”
Georgia turned it over in her head. It was actually a pretty good idea. But she wasn’t going to admit that to Bettina.
“So I can count on you to put this up in your window?” asked Bettina. “I know it’s short notice so we’re really trying hard to spread the word.”
“Go for it.” Frida handed Bettina a roll of Scotch tape.
“You want me to put it up in the window?”
“You could always call Persephone and have her come do it,” Frida said sweetly.
Bettina swiped the tape from Frida’s hand and marched over to the window.
“I guess I know where we’ll be Friday night,” said Frida. “Wait till I tell the Babes about this.”
Georgia didn’t say anything.
So Dave was in town.
Georgia didn’t know which was worse. That he’d left town to begin with. Or that he was back and hadn’t bothered getting in touch with her.
29
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Bunco tonight?” Frida asked for the zillionth time. She was lying on Georgia’s bed in the guest room Georgia was fast starting to consider home. Her town house in Birmingham seemed like a universe away right now. “Everyone is really psyched that you’re still in town.”
“I’d feel like a party crasher,” Georgia said. Although, strange as it seemed, she actually did want to go to Bunco tonight. She needed to unwind, have a little fun. But Bunco was at Kitty’s and according to Bettina, Dave was back in town. If he hadn’t bothered to try to see her, then she didn’t want to see him either. “Besides, I promised Spencer we’d have dinner again tonight.” Georgia paused. “I think he’s getting antsy.”
“I don’t blame him,” said Frida.
Georgia surveyed the small amount of clothes she had hanging in the closet. She’d been in Whispering Bay a full two weeks now. She’d have brought more clothes along if she’d known she was going to be here that long. She pulled out the simple black satin sheath dress she bought from Talbots this afternoon. With Spencer taking her out to dinner every night, she’d had to make a few additions to her wardrobe.
“That’s pretty,” said Frida.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” Her sister tossed a pillow at her. “Have you and Spencer had sex since he’s been here?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“So?”
Georgia slipped on the dress. “The answer, Ms. Nosy, is no.”
“Then I don’t blame Spencer for being antsy. He’s got this great room with a king-sized bed overlooking the Gulf and you haven’t stayed over one single night. Why not?”
Georgia didn’t say anything. The truth wasn’t just hers anymore. Ed was tangled up in it too.
“I guess I’m not going to get an answer to that.” Frida rolled off the bed.
“Are you leaving already? It’s only six.”
“I promised Kitty I’d come over early to help her set up. You’re going to miss a terrific night. The theme this week is Football Fever.”
“Will you tell everyone I said hello?”
“Sure. Have a good time. And don’t come back until you do Spencer. You could use a little un-antsy-ing yourself.”
Georgia put the finishing touches on her makeup and frowned at her reflection in the
bathroom mirror.
Un-antsy Spencer.
Now there was a thought.
Maybe Frida was right. Maybe sex was exactly the thing she and Spencer needed to get them back to where they should be. It certainly couldn’t hurt. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to get her into bed. It was becoming downright awkward putting him off.
She dug through the slim pickings in her drawer to find the sexiest pair of underwear she could find. Or rather, the second sexiest. The see-through white lacy bikini number was the sexiest. But she couldn’t wear it anymore. It would always remind her of Dave.
Maybe she should do a Bridget Jones and put on a pair of the granny panties. Just as a joke. She picked up a pair and smiled, remembering how they’d sagged around her hips when they got wet. Dave had been right to laugh. It had been funny. She sighed and stuffed them back in the drawer. Spencer wouldn’t laugh. He’d be horrified.
She settled on a plain black cotton thong. Spencer liked black. And at this point, it probably wouldn’t matter what she had on. She’d just finished dabbing some Dolce & Gab bana Light Blue cologne behind her ears when she heard a knock downstairs. It was too early for Spencer. He was supposed to pick her up at seven.
Zeke Grant and Rusty 2 were at the door. Zeke looked supremely unhappy. “Hello, Georgia. Is Ed in?”
“I’m not sure,” Georgia said, glancing out the door into the parking lot. Frida and Ed only had one car and Frida had driven it to Kitty’s. Ed’s bicycle was in its usual spot though. “He might be in his loft, painting. I don’t disturb him when he’s in there.”
“It’s important we talk to him,” said Zeke.
“Is this about the missing money at Black Tie Bunco again?”
Zeke nodded.
For a second, Georgia thought about telling Zeke that Ed was out. But Ed didn’t have anything to hide. Except of course for the fact that he’d lied about his alibi. But then so had she.
“All right.” Georgia showed them the way upstairs. She knocked on the door to Ed’s loft. She could hear classical music playing softly in the background. “Ed? Are you in there?”
The music stopped. After a minute, the door opened. Ed’s hair was standing on end and his T-shirt was smudged with traces of wet paint. He looked wild-eyed, but more than that, he looked . . . happy.
“Hey.” The light in his eyes dimmed when he noticed Zeke and Rusty 2 standing in the hallway behind her. “What’s up, Zeke?” he asked cautiously.
“I hate to ask, Ed, but do you mind if we take a look around the place?”
“As in, search it?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Do you have a warrant?” Ed asked.
“This is ridiculous,” said Georgia. “You don’t really think Ed took that money, do you?”
Zeke looked grim. “It’s my job to follow the evidence, and right now the evidence is pointing to Ed.”
“Come back when you get a warrant,” Ed snapped.
Zeke gave Georgia a pleading look. What would Frida do if she was here?
Georgia touched Ed’s elbow. “Let them search. We both know you don’t have anything to hide. Then they’ll leave you alone and go after the real thief. A search warrant is going to be bad for business. And it’ll upset Frida.”
Ed thought about it a minute. “You’re right.” He opened the door all the way. “Go ahead, Zeke. Look all you want. You’re not going to find anything.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Ed.” Zeke nodded to Rusty. “I’ll stay up here and check out the family quarters. You do the downstairs.”
“Sure thing, Boss,” said Rusty 2. He took off like an excited puppy who had just been tossed a bone.
“I’ll start with the bedrooms,” said Zeke.
Now that Georgia was finally alone with Ed, she wasn’t sure what to say. She’d only been in the loft a couple of times, but she’d never taken the time to look around. There were paintings everywhere, some of them completed and some of them a work in progress. These were different from the bright murals he’d done downstairs in the Bistro.
“What are you working on right now?” she asked.
Ed showed her a partially done landscape. The painting’s focus was a sand dune, which was a common enough sight in the area, but there was something in the painting that held Georgia’s attention. The colors were spectacular. Who would have thought there were so many variations on white?
“Ed, this is really good.”
“Thanks.” There was an edge of hardness in his voice when he added, “But you don’t have to say that.”
“I mean it,” said Georgia.
“Yeah, well, that and a buck will buy me a cup of coffee.” He paused. “This is one of the paintings I’m going to display at the Harbor House.”
Georgia felt her throat go dry. Now was the perfect opportunity to have that conversation they needed. “Ed, I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you about getting a job. It’s none of my business.”
“No, you were right to tell me what was going on. Frida thinks I’m some sort of delicate artist who needs to be protected from the real world.”
“Why did you lie to Zeke? About your alibi? I know you said it was because we’re family, but you still didn’t have to do it.”
Ed raised a brow at her. “Is that how you wanted Spencer to find out? About you and Dave?”
Georgia felt her face go hot. “Of course not. But it’s put you in a bad spot.”
“We both know I didn’t take that money. Let Zeke and the Rustys have their fun playing big-time cops. When they don’t find anything they’ll get bored and go away.”
“I know how you got the money to pay off the bank,” said Georgia.
“You do?”
“And I wish you hadn’t done it. I wanted to be the one to give you that money.”
He was about to say something when a tapping sound on the open door interrupted them. Zeke poked his head in. “I’m done with the rest of the apartment. I just need to take a quick look around here.”
Ed nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I hope you know how much I hate doing this,” said Zeke.
Rusty 2 appeared at the doorway. He shuffled his weight from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “Um, Boss, can I see you a minute?”
Zeke went to talk to Rusty, which left Georgia alone with Ed again. “How do you know where I got the money?” asked Ed.
“It was a simple deduction.”
Ed frowned.
Zeke finished his conversation with Rusty. He looked ready to spit. “Ed, I’m sorry, man, but I have to ask you to come down to police headquarters.”
“That’s ridiculous,” protested Georgia. “He’s already given you permission to search the place. What more do you want?”
“I found this in the Dumpster out back,” said Rusty 2. He held up a large, clear acrylic tumbler. It looked identical to the one that had been used to hold the Bunco money. It was empty and banged up.
“Ed Hampton, you’re under arrest,” began Rusty 2. “Anything you say can and will be used against you . . .”
30
Georgia’s Honda Accord flew through the streets of Whispering Bay. She’d never been to Kitty’s house, but it couldn’t be that hard to find. Ed had given her the directions right before Rusty 2 had put him in the backseat of the cop car. They hadn’t handcuffed him, and they hadn’t used their sirens, but it had still been an awful sight. Georgia didn’t think she’d ever forget it.
She made a right turn on Seville Street and stopped in front of the house with all the cars parked in front. Georgia’s hands shook as she turned the ignition off. She ran to the front door and rang the bell. The house was an old-style Spanish Revival. The small lawn was neat and green with manicured flower beds and a hedge of bright pink hibiscus. Georgia could hear the Babes inside, laughing.
Too impatient to wait any longer, she opened the door and walked in.
“Georgia!” th
ey cried in unison.
Frida grinned at her. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
“I’ll go make you a name tag,” said Kitty, already halfway out of her chair.
“Ed’s been arrested,” Georgia blurted.
Frida jumped from her seat. “What?”
“Zeke and Rusty 2 came over and searched the Bistro. They found an acrylic tumbler identical to the one stolen during Black Tie Bunco in the garbage bin out back.”
“That’s an illegal search,” said Pilar. “I can get that tossed out in court. Did Rusty 2 read him his Miranda rights? That is, if Rusty even knows what they are.”
“It was legal,” said Georgia. “At least, I think it was.” She cringed. “I sort of convinced Ed to give his permission to let Zeke search.”
“I’m going to divorce Zeke Grant before this is all through,” muttered Mimi. “He’s being so awful right now!”
“Obviously, someone is framing Ed,” said Shea. “I wouldn’t put this past Bettina Bailey.”
“You really can’t think Bettina Bailey stole the Bunco money. Even she isn’t that despicable,” said Kitty.
Frida grabbed her purse. “I’m going to police headquarters to bail Ed out.” Her eyes were moist. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“We’re all going,” said Kitty. “To show Ed our support.”
“That’s right,” said the Babes. Most of them already had their purses and car keys in hand.
“There’s no need for everyone to go running down to police headquarters,” Georgia said. “I know how to get Ed out of jail.”
“This is one time I’m not going to argue with you about borrowing money,” said Frida.
“It’s not the bail that can get Ed out,” Georgia said. “I . . . I can clear him of the charges. I can give Ed an alibi for the time the money was stolen.” Georgia felt the weight of twelve pairs of eyes on her. “I should have spoken up the night of Black Tie Bunco, when Zeke was interrogating everyone, but I never dreamed Ed would fall under suspicion.”
“I thought you were in the bathroom. Did you go outside and see Ed smoking?” Frida asked hopefully.
