“Yeah?” she answers.
It’s Brooke. “Turn around and walk down to the diner as quickly as you can.”
“Where have you been?” Avery asks, leaning against the car. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last twenty minutes.”
“Just listen to me and come down to the diner.” She sounds urgent.
Avery frowns and looks over her shoulder at the diner that’s two storefronts down from where she’s parked. Brooke’s waving frantically at her through the front window.
Entering the diner Avery finds Brooke sitting in a booth at the end window, looking a combination of paranoid and terrified.
“What’s the matter?” Avery asks, sliding into the booth across from her sister.
Brooke looks at her sister with wide eyes and says with the utmost seriousness, “I think Steven the bartender is going to ask me to marry him.”
Avery stares at her for a full minute, saying nothing and her face betraying no expression.
Then Avery bursts into laughter.
The tension drains and Brooke frowns. “This isn’t funny.”
Avery smacks the table with her hands, she’s laughing so hard. “Oh, oh, I can’t-” she cuts herself off with more laughter.
Brooke folds her arms and scowls. “This is nice. Real nice. Is this what I can expect when I come to you for advice now?”
Avery squeezes her eyes shut. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she laughs. She takes a few stuttering deep breaths and starts to calm down after a moment.
“Are you finished?” Brooke asks.
Avery exhales slowly. “Yeah, I think so.” She wipes away the tears. “Hey, I just thought of this. If you got married would you have to change your name to Brooke the Bartender?” That sets her off again.
Brooke glares at her older sister as she rolls around on her side of the booth with laughter.
“This hurts,” Brooke says. “This really hurts.”
Avery replies with more laughter.
“I’m having a crisis,” Brooke says. “This is serious. And you’re laughing like a stupid hyena.”
Avery’s stretched out on her side, staring up at the ceiling as she slowly starts to calm back down. She sits up and looks at her sister. “It is pretty ridiculous.”
“It is not ridiculous,” Brooke insists.
“Not two hours ago you wanted me to get you Annie’s brother’s phone number,” Avery says, grabbing a napkin to dry her eyes.
“I’m not saying that I want to marry Steven the bartender,” Brook argues.
“Why do we call him Steven the bartender?” Avery wonders. “Shouldn’t we be calling him, like, Steven the Tongue. We never talk about his bar tending skills.”
Brooke just stares at her.
“What?”
“I’m just waiting to see if you’re done telling jokes,” Brooke says.
“Fine,” Avery tosses the napkin to the side and checks her makeup in the reflection of her spoon. “I’m done making jokes.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” Avery admits. “This is Steven the bartender and you we’re talking about.”
“You know, this is entirely your fault.” Brooke points at her sister.
“And how exactly does that work out?” Avery asks her.
Brooke holds up her cellphone. “I got this text from him and you wouldn’t let me read it to you.”
Avery raises an eyebrow. “Huh? You need to connect the dots on this one for me.”
“You wouldn’t hear what he texted me,” Brooke says. “So I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it and therefore ended up obsessing uncontrollably about it.”
“What are you, a seventy year old shut in?” Avery asks her. “You don’t have a phone?”
“I called you.”
“You know other people,” Avery says. “Please. You’re acting like Jack’s grandmother.”
“Thank you,” Brooke says. “Being compared to an eighty-three year old lady makes me feel so much better.”
Avery shrugs. “Hey, don’t act like one, and you won’t get called one.”
“I am in crisis mode here and I would really appreciate it if you would join me,” Brooke says.
“I’m not sure I want to,” Avery replies. “Your ‘crisis mode’ seems more like a hormonal thing. Are you on your period?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“That’s something you would say if you were on your period.”
“Stop talking about my period!” Brooke hisses at Avery. She glances around as though somebody might be listening in on their conversation.
“Talking about your period makes you uncomfortable?” Avery asks with a smug smile. “That’s how I feel every time you bring up the details of your sex life.”
“We’re women,” Brooke replies. “We’re supposed to talk about all the salacious details of our sex lives.”
“I think you have real life confused with Sex and the City.”
“I don’t like to talk about blood coming out of my body,” Brooke says, shifting uncomfortably. “That is unnatural.”
“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Avery says.
Brooke drops her head to the table. “My life as I know it is ending and you want to make jokes about my period,” she moans.
“Your life is hardly ending.”
“I’ve made a man fall deeply in love with me,” she says.
“I don’t think you made him do anything,” Avery replies. “Although, I guess it’s possible you strongly encouraged the oral sex thing.”
Brooke lifts her head to stare at her sister. “That was all his idea. The man knows his strengths. And now I’ve used my womanly wiles and tricked him into falling in love with me.” She sighs. “You don’t understand. Men have never fawned over you like they have me.”
“Okay, I’ll try not to be too wildly offended by that statement,” Avery says dryly.
“There is something about me,” Brooke continues, oblivious to her sister’s sarcasm. “Something I exude. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s irresistible to men.” She looks Avery in the eyes. “I have no control over this superpower.”
“And now we’re definitely exaggerating it a bit here,” Avery mutters.
“Men will fall for me,” Brooke says. “It’s not even a question of if anymore, but when.”
“Alright,” Avery says, playing along. “Then why are you freaking out? This should be business as usual for you, even though, like five minutes ago, you were a complete wreck over this.”
“Because while men will inevitably fall for me, no one’s ever asked me to marry them,” Brooke replies.
Avery sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Let me see this text message.”
Brooke flips open her phone and pulls up the message before handing it to her sister.
Avery reads it out loud. “Keep your weekend open. I’ve got big plans.” Avery flicks her gaze up to her sister and looks at her in disbelief.
Brooke nods. “Big plans.”
“Are you serious?” Avery asks her.
“What?”
“Big plans?” Avery tosses the phone back to her. “That’s it? That’s what you’re freaking out over?”
Brooke holds up her phone, pointing to the screen. “He put ‘big’ in capitals.”
“He also misspelled ‘weekend’ as in ‘weakend,’ Avery says. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“You’re right.”
“Thank you,” Brooke replies, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
“You’re miles beyond crazy,” Avery says.
“Come on.”
“Big plans could mean anything,” Avery says. “The man probably isn’t even aware that marriage is a possibility for couples in this day and age.”
“He’s not that dumb.”
“That text has nothing to do with marriage,” Avery says. “And you’re crazy.”
“This is
your fault.” Brooke points at her sister.
“My fault?”
“You wouldn’t talk to me about the text earlier,” Brooke says. “What did you expect was going to happen?”
“I expected that my sister wouldn’t turn into a crazy person,” Avery replies.
“Well, maybe you should learn to lower your expectations.”
“Yeah, maybe I should.” Avery shakes her head. “Can we get back to work now?”
“Not exactly,” Brooke says. “There was another reason I was hiding out in here.”
“Why?”
Brooke points out the window.
Avery watches for a few minutes. At first she doesn’t notice her. Then, after the pedestrian crowd thins out, she sees a woman, a brunette, dressed in a red skirt suit, with a leather briefcase tightly clutched in her tiny hands. She’s sitting outside the 24 Hour Chinese Food, but she doesn’t look like a customer. She’s paying close attention to every woman that passes by.
Avery looks at her sister.
“She showed up a few minutes after I sat down,” Brooke explains.
Avery shakes her head. “I don’t get it. Do we know her?”
“No.”
“Then why is this a problem?” Avery asks, looking back out the window. “How do you know she’s even waiting for us?”
“I know the answer to both of those questions,” Brooke says.
Avery turns back to her. Brooke holds up her cellphone again and shows Avery the picture on it.
“I called Ricky and had him text me this photo.”
Avery looks at the image. It’s Daniel Jones, his daughter and a woman that looks just like the lady sitting in front of their office. She looks back at the red suit lady.
“Shelly Jones.”
“Shelly Jones,” Brooke agrees, flipping her phone closed.
“What is she doing back here?” Avery wonders aloud.
“Probably the same thing she was doing here before.”
Avery sighs, rubbing her eyes. “This is not good.”
“If we had just dumped the dead guy at the Waiting Room when we were supposed to, this wouldn’t even be a problem,” Brooke says.
“But then our lives would be so much less interesting,” Avery says.
Brooke rolls her eyes. “I have enough interesting crap in my life right now. You know what I don’t have enough of? Money. I would love some more money.”
“I think I’ve got a lead on the dead couple,” Avery says.
“Really?”
“Terraman Park.”
“With the caves that all the kids keep getting lost in?”
“Yep.”
“Sweet,” Brooke replies. “What about my phone number?”
“You mean Annie’s brother’s phone number,” Avery corrects her.
“Which I would like in my possession.”
“So you can get another man to fall hopelessly in love with you?”
“It’s not like I do it on purpose,” Brooke says. “Were you not listening? I have no control over this ability.”
Avery rolls her eyes. “Annie wouldn’t give me her brother’s number.”
“What?”
“Apparently she doesn’t want her brother dragged into your sordid world of sexual debauchery,” Avery says.
Brooke just stares at Avery with a faint look of confusion.
“You’re a slut and Annie doesn’t want you dirtying up her brother,” Avery clarifies.
“Please,” Brooke says, with a flick of her hand. “Annie’s a much bigger whore. You remember that time at Shelly’s party?”
“I’ve successfully purged that from my memory,” Avery says. “Please don’t bring it up.”
“Annie should feel honored that I have a passing interest in her brother,” Brook continues. “I am a catch.”
“Can we stop talking about this before I end up saying something that’ll get me into more trouble?” Avery asks. “Besides, you clearly have your hands full with Steven the bartender and your big weekend.”
Brooke just shakes her head. “Too soon, way too soon.”
Avery glances at the clock behind the counter. “Well, we can’t hide in here all day and just hope she gets bored and goes away.”
“And whose fault is that?” Brooke asks.
Avery’s phone rings. She checks the caller ID first and answers with a smile. “Hey.”
It’s Jack.
“Hey yourself,” he says. “Where are you?”
“At the office, kind of,” Avery says.
“Kind of?”
“It’s complicated,” Avery replies, brushing over it. “Why?”
“Can you get down here?” he asks, meaning Saint Mercy’s Hospital.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s great,” Jack says.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“You just never call me in the middle of the day like this,” Avery says.
“It’s just quiet.”
“Quiet?”
“Very quiet,” Jack says, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that says more than words would. “I thought you might want to stop by.”
Avery can’t help herself and a sly smile stretches across her face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says and Avery’s body automatically responds to him.
She glances up at Brooke’s who got a knowing look on her face.
“Now’s really not a good time, though,” Avery quietly says into the phone, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
“Can we make it a good time?” Jack asks.
“I’d love to,” Avery replies. “But Brooke and I are kind of on the clock.”
Jack sighs. “This is your fault, you know.”
“I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”
“Last night,” Jack pauses. “Last night was very memorable.”
“Yeah?”
“Very.”
Avery fidgets in her seat. “You have to stop,” she whispers into the phone.
He pauses for a second. “Is Brooke nearby?”
“Yes,” Avery simply answers. “Very.”
“Is it making you uncomfortable?”
“Very much so,” Avery says.
Avery can hear him grinning across the phone. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
Avery hangs up.
“What was that?” Brooke asks.
“None of your business,” Avery replies, checking on Shelly Jones.
“Was that phone sex?” Brooke asks. “Was Jack trying phone sex?” She smiles. “I didn’t know he had such a naughty streak in him.”
“He doesn’t,” Avery says. “Now stop talking.”
Brooke frowns. “I don’t know. You were blushing pretty bad on the phone with him.”
Avery ignores her and keeps an eye on Shelly Jones through the window. “You said the admissions guy mentioned Kristen had a boyfriend?”
“Yeah. But the widow’s not going to know about that, is she?”
“Well, the other option is the dead guy we’ve got upstairs who either has a faulty memory or is whitewashing his past for us,” Avery says.
“Yeah, well, actually there’s one other option,” Brooke says. “We decide we don’t care. We dump the dead guy and get paid”
Avery gets to her feet. “Yeah, or we could just talk to the lady and do the right thing.”
Brooke follows her sister. “Obviously you and I have different interpretations of what the ‘right thing’ is.”
Shelly Jones sits on the bench, watching a skinhead get questioned by two officers with a bemused expression. Up close Avery sees that she’s closer to fifty-five. The age lines are more obvious, but she’s doing her best to hang on to her youth. She fills out the red suit well enough to attract a few looks from the younger men who pass by.
“That's what I want to be when I grow up,” Brooke whispers to her sister. “A cougar.”
“I can't make any promises,” Brooke says. “I am what I am.”
Avery rolls her eyes.
“Mrs. Jones?” Avery says, approaching the older woman.
Shelly Jones looks up. There are dark bags under her eyes. Her mouth is small, but the red lipstick makes her lips appear fuller than they really are. A flicker of hopeful recognition passes through her eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m Avery Graves,” she says. “And this is my sister, Brooke. I understand that you might be looking for us.”
twenty-two
They don’t take Shelly Jones upstairs to the office where her dead husband is stashed. Instead, the Graves sisters find a table in the corner of Chang’s restaurant. It’s cramped and smells like rice and shrimp. Howard Chang gives them a dirty look, but doesn’t chase them out.
Shelly Jones pulls a cigarette from her purse. She sticks it in her mouth, but doesn’t light it. “Nervous habit,” she explains. “I don’t actually smoke anymore, but the feel of a cigarette between my lips calms me down when I’m feeling particularly stressed out.”
Brooke nods her head. “I totally understand the oral fixation thing,” she says. “Sucking on almost anything will always calm me down.”
Avery gives her sister a disapproving look. “I don't think Mrs. Jones really wants to hear about your fixations.”
Jones gives her a raised eyebrow and then turns her attention to Avery. “What is it exactly that you ladies do?”
Avery shrugs. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. It’s complicated.”
“I’m a smart woman,” she says. “I can take big words.”
“I'm pretty sure by this point you know what we do, ma'am,” Avery says. “Otherwise you wouldn't be waiting for us outside our office.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Jones pauses and takes an imaginary drag off her unlit cigarette. “Well, in that case, why is my dead husband calling me from your office?”
“Funny,” Avery says. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Mrs. Jones eyes them for a moment. “Oh, that's cute.”
“Thank you?” Brooke says, not quite sure how to respond.
Jones takes the cigarette out and rolls it lazily between her fingers.
“Okay. You’re grim reapers.” The way she words it, it’s a statement, not a question. “I met one when I was a child. My mother had just died and he had come for her soul. He was an old, scruffy-looking man. I followed him around the house while he hunted her down, half expecting him to climb into the garbage can at the end.” She sizes the sisters up. “You two are a considerable step up from him.”
Death Wears Stilettos (Reapers in Heels Book 2) Page 12
