We Interrupt This Date (26 page)

“Jack, what do you think?” she sang. “You’re the
expert with these old houses.”

“If it were mine, I’d stick with the original as much
as possible. People on ghost tours are going to want to hear that
the house is more or less as it was when it was built.”

“That makes sense.” She suddenly had the grace to
remember that I was in the room and I was supposed to be her ghost
tour manager. “Susan, do you agree?”

“Sure.” I beamed Jack a toothy smile. “As long as you
don’t paint the trim tan and tangerine and teal.”

“Tan and Tangerine? What do you mean?” Veronica said
looking from me to Jack and back again.

“Nothing. Kind of an inside joke.” Heat flooded my
face. A really lame inside joke.

Jack was staring at me and the blush was lasting way
too long. If it didn’t go away soon, I was going to have to stick
my head in a bucket of ice water.

“Nic was reminding me of a mistake I made once,” Jack
said. He stepped to one side and motioned for me to pass. “Sorry.
Didn’t mean to block your way. I’m sure your family needs you at
home.”

Managing to avoid shooting a glare at him, I marched
past. Before I left Charleston I went to the nearest grocery to
pick up a loaf of bread and more dog food as well as some yogurt
and fruit to stock my office mini fridge in the morning. When I
drove back past the mansion on my way home, the construction crew
had gone, but Jack’s truck and Veronica’s Miata were still snuggled
side by side in the lot next door.

An evil troll forced its way into my head and
wouldn’t go away.
It’s obvious they’re going out tonight. Why
else would Veronica be dressed like that with Walter out of the
country? She’s supposed to be your friend. Your best and dearest
friend. And even though she already has a boyfriend, she’s stealing
Jack from you without a second thought.

No, she wasn’t. Because I didn’t have Jack. And I
certainly didn’t want him.

I gave myself a mental slap and gripped the steering
wheel tight enough to make my joints ache. I was thinking bitchy
thoughts and Veronica deserved so much better from me.

I tromped on the gas. Jack and Veronica would go out.
I would sit home with Mama and Cole and the Chihuahuas while
DeLorean had an evening with her friends. Poor me. Poor, lonely
useless me.

“Stop whining,” the troll said after about a minute
of me wallowing in self-pity like a hog in a mud hole. “You have
things to do. Important things. Wouldn’t Jack be surprised to know
you have a life?”

No. Jack was not interested in my life any more than
I was interested in his. But the troll was right about the whining.
I’d gotten so wrapped up in my work, I’d never remembered to call
Lawrence Little again. There was also the fact that Philip was
trying to blackmail Mama, but blackmail might be hard to prove.
He’d never, as far as I knew, asked for money in front of a
witness. He was too smart for that. But did I really want to have
DeLorean’s father arrested? Wouldn’t it be enough to let him know I
was on to him so he’d leave town and never come back? Sure beat
sitting home listening to imaginary violins playing songs of
pity.

I called Patty and caught her before she left the
shop. “Still up for that trip to the motel to have a talk with
Philip Beauchamp?”

“Woo-hoo! What made you change your mind, lady?”

“Got tired of sitting around worrying and decided I’d
take charge of the situation.” Mama had been really upset Sunday.
Another visit from Philip wouldn’t do her blood pressure any good.
Besides, I’d given the matter a lot more thought and realized that
even if Philip were actually married to the second woman and
committing bigamy it would take a while for the authorities to
investigate and arrest him. And if he weren’t, we’d be right back
to the beginning. If I could convince him I was going to report him
to the police, that should be enough to get him to back off. I
wouldn’t promise not to contact his new wife, though.

“Can you pick me up so we can ride together?”

“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Maybe you can
consult the Universe for slime busting tips while you wait.”

When I got back to Mount Pleasant, I ran by the house
to drop off my groceries so Brad could eat. He’d run out of food
this morning.

DeLorean met me at the door. She was fully made up
and had on a semi sheer black blouse and a black mini skirt that
made her legs look about ten feet long. She held out her hand, palm
up. “Keys?”

I ignored the hand and pushed past her to the
refrigerator. “Sorry. Change of plans.” She was going to flip and I
couldn’t blame her.

“What change of plans? You have to take over Mama and
Cole before I turn into a raving hysteric. I called some of my
friends, girls I went to high school with, and we’re supposed to
meet at Reds Sports Bar.”

From the back yard a booming bark split the air and
then something galloped past the kitchen window. DeLorean put her
hands over her ears and took a deep breath. “Brad barks at
everything he even
thinks
is moving. My nerves are
shredded.”

“Here’s his food. I’m sure he’s starving and make
sure his water dish is full.” I put the bag on the kitchen island.
“I have to leave right away. My friend is expecting me.”

“Jack? Can’t he make it another time.” DeLorean could
pout more effectively than anyone I’d ever met--a pout guaranteed
to put me on a guilt trip.

“Not Jack. I have other friends, you know.” I didn’t
tell her the friend was Patty. Maybe she’d think I was going on a
date.

“You can’t do this. It isn’t fair after I waited all
day. It is soooo not like you to be this selfish, Susan.” Any
minute she’d start foaming at the mouth, which would do some
serious damage to the under made-up, but naturally gorgeous look
she’d achieved with lip gloss and a touch of blush.

“Trust me. This is for your own good. Call your
friends and tell them you’ll be late. I’ll make it up to you, I
promise.” I blew her a kiss.

I grabbed a sweater from the front closet. The breeze
blowing inland had stiffened and cooled the air into the nippy
category since noon. As I dashed across the yard to the van, I
managed to pull on the sweater.

When I got to the corner, I glanced in the rear view
mirror, half expecting DeLorean to be running down the street after
me shaking her fist. Nope. Hopefully she was in the back yard
feeding Brad.

Patty jittered around near the front door of the
pawnshop. As soon as I pulled in to the parking lot, she waved like
mad, as if I could miss seeing her in her high heeled black boots,
tie-dyed red and orange crepe dress topped by a denim jacket, and
with her black hair flying around her head like a wind-tossed
cape.

I reached across the seat to fling the door open.
“Hurry up. The traffic’s horrible and I don’t want to be too late
getting home.” I didn’t add that DeLorean still planned to go out
as soon as I got back with the van. She’d take it the wrong
way.

Patty hopped in. “Wow, I can’t believe I managed to
solve what amounts to a mystery. Actually, I can believe it. We
psychics have a built in advantage.”

“Can you stop congratulating yourself long enough to
tell me where we’re headed?”

“Chuck’s Alamo Budget Motel. Get back on the highway
and go toward Moncks Corner.”

“I thought the Alamo Motel was that big yellow place
in Ashley.”

“That’s the Palomino Grand Motel. Not the fanciest
place in town, but better than the Alamo.” She pointed. “Go right.
I printed out a map from the Internet when Odell wasn’t looking.
God, don’t you hate the way he charges for paper if you use the
printer?”

After a few miles, she sat up straighter and said,
“Hey, look at this street. Talk about low rent. Philip was staying
uptown at one of those two hundred dollar a night places, but looks
like he had to downgrade.” She squinted and peered out the
window.

He’d had to downgrade, all right. Actually, I’d been
surprised when Patty told me he was at a place like the Alamo
Budget Motel. Budget anything was not Philip’s style, especially if
he had a woman to provide money for him to spend.

“He’s been in Charleston at least a week. He must
have run short of funds.”

“You might say that. His new wife threw him out.”

“He got dumped already?” I swiveled sideways to look
at her and nearly rammed a parked car.

“Before I found out he was at the Alamo, I called his
first hotel. The latest Mrs. Beauchamp, who seems to have money, is
still there. She didn’t mind telling me where he was and spilling
her secrets to a total stranger--not after I, uh, let her think I
might be a private detective.”

“You let her think what?”

Patty shrugged. “This latest wife was paying for
everything while he ‘waited for a business deal to come through.’
Then she caught him flirting with a barmaid about the same time she
figured out he wasn’t exactly rolling in cash. She said something
about how she was going to rearrange his anatomy.”

My mouth had dropped open and now I shut it so I
could swallow. “Did you tell her where Philip’s staying now?”

“I figured she could find out on her own same way I
did. But I may have slipped and mentioned Lurlene, wife number one
back in Little Rock.”

My eyes bulged. “You did not.”

Silence. I swallowed again. Hard. She was probably
telling the truth. I would hate to be Philip when either or both of
the wives caught up to him. But by the time that happened, I would
have delivered my message and he would be on his way out of town
and out of Mama’s life.

I pushed on, scanning both sides of the road. We were
not in one of the Charleston area’s nicest neighborhoods. Finally,
to my left, a pink neon sign indicated the end of my search.

Chuck’s Alamo Budget Motel was one of those
fallen-on-hard-times places that didn’t even have an old pool to
collect algae. The building was cinderblock, painted a color that
might have once been flamingo. Bars on the windows of the office
did not lend an aura of warm and fuzzy. A few of the rooms sported
plywood where there should have been window air conditioners.
Lacked curb appeal, as they say on those real estate shows I am so
fond of watching.

“He’s in Room 200,” Patty said, consulting a scrap of
paper she’d dragged out of her pocket.

I peered at the numbers on the closest rooms. They
started with ten and went up by tens. I counted. Twenty doors. That
meant 200 was the last room in the row.

I yanked the wheel hard, jolted over a bump I hadn’t
seen, and finally fetched up next to a sharp looking El Camino with
Nevada plates. The car was an older model that had been beautifully
restored, custom painted silver and cherry. I cut the van’s engine
and sent Patty a “what next?” look. I’d thought I was all set for
running Philip out of town, but now I wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t
like I did this sort of thing every day.

“Hope he’s in his room,” I said. Lie. I longed to go
home for a hot bath, scented candles, and a cup of herbal tea. No,
that wouldn’t happen. As soon as I walked in the door, I’d have to
take over the care and feeding of Cole, Mama, and the dogs to give
DeLorean a break. “But this early in the evening, he’ll be at the
nearest cheap diner.”

Patty shook her head. “Nope.” She pointed. “That’s
gotta be his car. Truck. Whatever--the El Camino thing. He married
the latest Mrs. Beauchamp in Las Vegas and they drove out here for
the big honeymoon.”

“Okay, guess you’re right.” I reached deep inside
myself hoping to find some long dormant ass-kicking gene. The
Philip Beauchamps of this world do not fold their cards at the
first sign of trouble. Not when they smell easy money and
especially not when they are in urgent need of said money because
their rich wives dumped them. “Maybe we should tell someone at the
office we’re here in case there’s trouble.”

“Don’t be silly. The only concern of the desk clerk
is how many times a night he can rent these rooms.” Patty had been
pawing in her purse ever since I stopped the van and now she pulled
out a can of pepper spray. “Don’t worry. I have jackass repellent
and I know how to use it.”

“You’re probably right. About the office I mean.” I
took a deep breath and flung my door open. “Wait here. If I’m not
back in fifteen minutes, send out a search party.”

“Hold it, Susan. I’m not letting you face him alone.
Why do you think I came along?”

I eyed her sideways. “The cards tell you something I
need to know?”

She hesitated and then shook her head. “I’m used to
dealing with nasty slime like him. You, on the other hand, have led
a sheltered life and suffered through the upbringing of a southern
lady.”

“Hey, unfair. Didn’t I successfully get T.
Chandler--slime lite--out of my life?”

“Doesn’t count. He wanted to be out of your life. In
fact, isn’t he the one who left you?”

Ouch. So true, but I was quite sure I didn’t want to
keep him, especially not after I found out about Crystal. Still,
why did Patty think I couldn’t deal with Philip? On the other hand,
maybe she had a point. It might have something to do with the fact
that I hadn’t yet learned to say no to anyone in my family, canines
included, so I didn’t have much of a track record when it came to
confrontation.

“Give me your purse,” she said. “Once he finds out
you’re not giving him the money, he might try to steal your wallet
or something.”

I doubted it. But I tossed her my purse and she put
the strap over her shoulder. Then she slid out of the van, the can
of pepper spray clutched in her right hand and held out in front of
her like a loaded gun. She barreled toward the door of Room 200
until I caught up and put a restraining hand on her arm.