Sweet Poison (21 page)

“Jason. And don’t worry. I’m on it.”

“Good man.”

By the time she returned to the lounge, the sandwiches were on the table, but Kenzie hadn’t started eating. Good manners, thought Julia. She’s halfway to heaven on vodka shots and she still has good manners.

As Julia made herself comfortable, a middle-aged guy with a comb-over and a beer gut, smelling of booze, sweat, and Aqua Velva, dragged a chair away from another table and pulled it up next to Kenzie.

“Hate to see two beautiful gals all alone.” He smiled at both of them, but his eyes lingered on Julia.

“Who knew this would be the day my prince would come?” said Julia, taking a sip of her wine.

“You ladies like another round?” He pointed at their drinks.

“Now that you mention it, I would,” said Kenzie. She held up her shot glass and caught the waitress’s eye.

“It’s on me,” said the guy, grinning like he’d just struck the mother lode.

“No,” said Julia, tapping the table in front of him. “Actually, it’s on me.”

“Now, don’t argue with me, pretty lady.”

“Look, whatever you name is,” said Julia, “my friend and I are both married.”

“So?”

“Where are your Midwestern morals?”

“Left them home tonight.” He grinned and leered at the same time.

“You might as well move on. Try the woman over there in the corner, the one with the disgraceful makeup.”

The guy turned to look. “Nah, she’s not my type.”

“Seriously,” said Kenzie, “we’re not interested.”

“Oh, well,” he said, with a long, disappointed but tolerant sigh. “Okay. If you change your minds later, I’ll be around. The name’s Phil.” He winked, took one last appraising look at Julia, and then shoved away from the table.

“I’m not really married,” said Julia after he’d gone.

Kenzie’s eyes were starting to look a little glassy. “Me either. Actually, I’m gay.”

“But … you said you’d just dumped your boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend.”

The waitress removed the empty shot glass and replaced it with a full one.

Julia waited a few seconds, then said, “You’re very attractive.”

Looking surprised, Kenzie leaned into the table. “You trying to pick me up?”

“What if I was?”

“Is this for real? You’re a dyke?”

“Bi.”

She seemed to be thinking it over. “Hell,” she said finally, a sly grin on her face, “if I sleep with you, on top of the booze and a major gambling loss, I will have hit a friggin’ trifecta of mortal sins all in one night.”

“I’ve got a suite at the hotel.”

“You do?”

“And a bottle of vodka, just waiting for us.” Julia felt that, for the first time tonight, Kenzie was really looking at her.

“That guy was right. You are beautiful.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Kenzie pressed a fist to her mouth.

Julia realized instantly that being flip was the wrong approach. She might not have known Kenzie was crying if she hadn’t noticed that her shoulders were shaking. Dipping her hand under the table, she slipped it over Kenzie’s knee. “Let me help. Just for tonight. Let me make it better.”

“There’s no way you can,” said Kenzie, using the napkin to wipe off the tears on her cheeks.

“Maybe not,” said Julia, stroking Kenzie’s knee, moving her hand slowly up the inside of her thigh. “But what else are you going to do for the rest of the evening? Loose what’s left of your shirt?”

“I lose no matter what I do,” said Kenzie, closing her eyes, starting to give in to the sensations. “Okay,” she said after another few seconds. “Why the hell not?”

Jane was loading another log into the copper fireplace in the back room of the pub when Cordelia breezed in, dressed all in black with the exception of a glittering silver lamé turban. It was going on nine. Jane had spent most of the afternoon and early evening trying to stanch the flow of grief by losing herself in work. She hadn’t succeeded.

“Not at the theater tonight?” asked Jane, clearing some dirty dishes off one of the bar tables and taking them over to a bus pan on a standing rack in the corner. She carried the bus pan behind the bar, opened one of the dumbwaiters, and sent it up to the kitchen.

“I stayed through the first act,” said Cordelia. “Mel’s at home,
working on a story, so until eleven, when Mel said she’d take a break, I’m footloose and fancy-free.”

Jane turned to look at her. “What’s that under your arm?”

“Oh, you haven’t met Tallulah yet. Jane, meet Tallulah.”

Jane patted the little creature’s head, scratched under her chin. She seemed very friendly.

The dog was one of the cutest creatures Jane had sever seen. It was tiny, kind of scruffy, with a mixture of gray and tan hair, soft ears, a black button nose, and dark eyes. It seemed content, almost serene, tucked under Cordelia’s arm. “She’s half Yorkshire terrier and half toy poodle. You remember Mel’s cat died.”

“The one that looked like a white bat.”

“The Cornish rex, right. A friend of hers is moving to Spain and couldn’t take Tallulah with her, so Mel inherited her a few days ago. She’s the perfect apartment dweller, manages to get all kinds of exercise just running around Mel’s loft, getting lost under the sofa, leaping tiny objects with a single bound. But she whines when Mel is on the computer, so I’m taking her out for the evening.”

“How much does she weigh?”

“Seven pounds. She’s an adult, completely house-trained. Mel’s in love. Actually, so am I.”

“Except for the computer thing.”

“Well, right.”

Jane led the way to her office.

As soon as Cordelia walked across the threshold, Mouse jumped up and skirted around the couch, standing on his back legs with his paws on her stomach, his nose working to understand what fresh horror he was being subjected to. If Cordelia and Mel were included in Jane’s family, and of course that’s how Jane thought of them, there was a veritable flotilla of animals for Mouse to welcome into his pack.

“Better let them fight it out,” said Jane, sitting down behind her desk. Her eyes suddenly welled with tears, as they’d been doing every hour on the hour since Kenzie had walked out her front door.

When Cordelia set Tallulah down, the little critter emitted a sharp
bark. Mouse started, backed up a couple of inches. In a spirit of intense but careful inquiry, they began sniffing each other, paying particular attention to each other’s nether regions.

“Get it
over
with,” cried Cordelia, flopping backward onto the sofa. “Sweet Jesus. You’d think they were proctologists.”

With the examination finally done, Tallulah hopped to the rug in front of the fire. Mouse followed at a slower pace. Tallulah chose her spot, fell forward on her front paws, crossed them, then let her hind end sink. Growling softly, she allowed Mouse to curl up a few feet away.

“I guess we know who the alpha dog is,” said Cordelia.

“Mouse could eat her for breakfast.”

“But he won’t. He’s too kindly.”

“What’s Mel working on?” asked Jane, staving off the inevitable—telling Cordelia about the breakup.

“Get this,” said Cordelia, pulling off one of her large, silver clip-on earrings. “You knew she was covering the Charity Miller murder.”

“I assumed.”

“Well, she told me before I left this evening that there’s something new in the wind. A new suspect.”

“Not Corey?”

“Definitely not Corey. The police are being very tight-lipped about it.”

“And you have no idea who it is?”

“None.” Apropos of nothing, Cordelia asked, “Do you like my turban?”

“Fabulous.”

“I thought so, too. Mel bought it for me.” She draped an arm dramatically across her forehead. “I don’t suppose—” She let the question trail off, as if she was too weak to finish the sentence.

“Let me guess. You’re either hungry or thirsty.”

“I could eat. What’s on the menu tonight?”

“What are you hungry for? Soup? Appetizers? Dessert?”

“Why don’t you choose?”

“Fine. You’ll love our whole stuffed cuttlefish.”

Cordelia sat up so quickly her turban fell sideways. “On second thought, just run the specials by me.”

“You’d probably like the salad special. A poached pear stuffed with Stilton and served with garlic croutons, walnuts, and a sherry vinaigrette. Or there’s the light foie gras mousse with candied pistachios and fried garlic bread.”

“The second, I think.”

“For the main course, why don’t you try the pan-seared duck breast. It comes with a special cherry brandy sauce—we make the cherry brandy here—and it’s served with sauteed radicchio, baby spinach, and baby bellas drizzled with citrus butter. It may come with something else, too. I can’t remember. Maybe a Yukon Gold fondant, or a barley risotto.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I’ve had kind of a hard time focusing today.”

“Really.”

She said the word with such force that Jane knew she was in for a grilling. But first things first.

“You can tell me about that in a minute,” said Cordelia. “What about a wine selection?”

“I feel like Armagnac. That okay with you?”

She waved her hand. “I am in your hands.”

Jane called up to the kitchen and ordered Cordelia’s food. She hadn’t felt like eating all day but figured she’d better put something in her stomach if she intended to drink Armagnac. She ordered a bowl of the pub’s mushroom-barley soup and a baguette and butter. She also asked that a bottle of twenty-year-old Dartigalongue Armagnac be sent to her office with two glasses.

“Ah,” said Cordelia, hands stuffed behind her head, “I love the cosmopolitan life. It was fate that my best friend would become an eminent restaurateur, with all the world at her feet.”

Jane said nothing, mainly because the comment was so off the mark it was laughable.

“So, now that
that’s
out of the way, tell me about your lack of focus.”

“You’ve never been unfocused?”

“Don’t be coy.” She sniffed the air like a mouse about to leave the safety of a wall crack. “Let me be more specific. What did Kenzie think of your surprise last night?”

“Loved it.”

“That’s great, Janey. For a minute there, you had me worried.” She closed her eyes with a satisfied smile on her face.

“She left me because of it.”

“Good. Good.”

“You’re not listening, Cordelia. I said Kenzie called it quits this afternoon. She left me. We’re finished.”

Her eyes popped open. “Jane,” she said, sitting forward, her voice full of wonder. “No.”

“Seems it’s all my fault. I’m not spending enough time with her. I’m too busy with my restaurants, my friends, my family. She needs more of me, and there’s not enough to go around.”

“Oh, dearheart,” she said, rising from the couch.

“No, stay there,” said Jane, holding out her hand. “If I start crying again, I’ll never stop. It took me two hours to pull myself together enough to leave the house.” She looked down and saw that Mouse was sitting next to her. She reached down and stroked his head.

For once, Cordelia seemed to be at a loss for words. But it was only momentary. “Maybe she’ll change her mind?”

Jane shook her head.

“What … I mean, what set this off?”

All the details came rushing out, everything that had happened last night, as well as what Kenzie had said before she left the house earlier in the day. “Maybe it is my fault, Cordelia. When I look back on it, I had the same problems with Christine. It’s always been the same old refrain. I spend too much time at work. I get too wrapped up in other people’s problems.”

“Kenzie actually said she’d like to drop-kick Nolan off a cliff?”

“Direct quote.”

“Uffdah.”

“I don’t know what to do,” said Jane, slouching forward against the desk, resting her head in her hand. “If I try to pull out of that restaurant deal in Stillwater, I’ll lose my shirt.”

“You can’t do that. Clothing is mandatory, though hardly essential.”

“For the first time in my life, I’ve got plenty of money. I thought about buying a used Piper Archer. I could probably get one for under a hundred thousand.”

“Lord.”

“We could keep it down in Nebraska. I’d get Kenzie flying lessons, and she could come up anytime she wanted.”

“Did you offer that as a way around your problems?”

“At this point, I’m not sure she’d be willing to listen.”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“Come in,” called Jane. She rose and took the bottle and two glasses from one of the bartenders. “Thanks, Connie,” she said, closing the door after her. Sitting down on the sofa next to Cordelia, she opened the bottle and poured them each a drink.

“Janey, I’m just … astonished. I thought you two were really making a go of it.”

“It’s all the stuff that never gets talked about that sinks you in the end.”

Cordelia got a faraway look in her eyes. “I know,” she said softly. “Sometimes I wonder how anyone negotiates a lifelong relationship.”

“Lack of imagination?”

“Should we drink to that?”

“I’d rather not.”

B
y two in the morning, Corey was seated on the hood of a gray Chevy Metro, half a block from the Unicorn bar, just a few cars back of Serena’s red Ford Tempo. He’d gone over what he wanted to say a million times in the last couple of days. This was round two, and this time he wasn’t going to blow it.