A Bad Day for Scandal (11 page)

“Oh, but Mama, that’s what
I
thought. I made a list of every gay person I knew, and at first I thought I’d just go right down the list, you know? Keep going until something clicked?”

Stella didn’t really want to know what going down the list entailed, but she nodded brightly anyway.

“But then I saw Joy at a party over New Year’s and there was this, like … magic. I don’t even know what else to call it.”

More nodding. Stella kept a smile fixed on her face. But inside, she was remembering Schooner, the first boy to ever ask Noelle on a date, when she was fourteen. Noelle ended up dating him until he enlisted two and a half years later. From the first time Noelle wrote her phone number on his Converse sneakers in the Prosper High School cafeteria, she couldn’t think of anyone else. Stella suspected there might be some sort of attachment disorder going on there or something—that Noelle got herself stuck on people the second she decided she might be interested in them. It would certainly go partway to explaining why, after hooking up with the hateful losers who littered her past, she stuck with them for so long.

With Schooner, there was never any overburdening reason to unstick the two of them. He was a nice boy, if a little gangly and awkward, and he treated Stella with shy respect and never failed to bring Noelle home on time. And maybe Joy would be an equally considerate and harmless romantic interest. But Stella hated to see her daughter shut down the field of possibilities so early in the game.

“Now, would you say that Joy is just as convinced of the, uh, magic between you, as you are?” she asked, switching tactics.

Noelle pursed her lips. “Well, now, see, she wants to take things slow, but that’s because she’s just naturally become
cautious.
She’s been hurt before. It’s sad, really.”

Oh—the
I’ve been hurt before
line. It was like chick crack. If Stella had a nickel for every woman who’d gone chasing after some loser who made that claim—oftentimes a loser who was himself far more likely to be in the hurting business than any woman he’d ever dated—she could retire to a big old mansion. Still, that was the kind of truth that folks were just completely resistant to. Pointing it out would only make Noelle dig in her heels more.

“Oh,” she said. “That
is
sad.”

“I know, right? So I’m trying to let things develop naturally over time. I mean, I’m just plain sensual to the core, but I’m making a conscious effort to keep that part of myself under control and focus on getting to know each other and all.”

“Are you two seeing a lot of each other?”

“Oh, yes! I mean, I hope we will be, anyway. That’s why I thought of this leave of absence. It’s only a few weeks.”

“Your boss was all right with that?”

Noelle frowned. “Well, she wasn’t, like, thrilled or anything. I mean, I
am
their top-booked stylist. But what can she do? I’m paying my rent on my chair and all.”

“Can you afford that, sweetie?”

“Yes, Mama. I’ve been saving ever since I went out on my own, and since I don’t have a car payment anymore, I’ve been able to put a lot away. I was saving up for a house, but this won’t set me back much.”

A few months ago, some of Stella’s clients had given Noelle a nice bonus for ending up unexpectedly in a dangerous situation in their behalf, when she inadvertently got herself taken hostage, and she’d bought herself a pretty little blue Prius with it. Stella was relieved to know she didn’t need to be concerned about her daughter’s finances, but there was always something to worry about with kids.

“So … does Joy know that you’ve decided to devote all your time to—” Stella was about to say
chasing her around
but switched gears just in time. “—strengthening your relationship?”

“Um, well, I didn’t exactly put it like that. I don’t want to, you know,
crowd
her or anything. I told her I had some things to catch up on. Which I do. I mean, like being here with you and helping with the shop and Tucker and Todd and the twins and them-all. I mean, they’re like family, right? Plus I know how you get about Easter.” She hesitated, and added shyly, “How you
used
to get, anyway. I thought it might be nice to make a fuss again for a change.”

She flashed another of her beautiful megawatt smiles, and Stella melted further and considered that only moments earlier her daughter had been near tears and hanging on for dear life. She was certainly riding an emotional roller coaster—well, maybe it really
was
love.

“And I love having you here.” Stella had a thought. “Listen, sugar, any chance you might want to watch the shop for a few hours today? I’ve got a little job I need Chrissy for.”

For a long time, Stella had been unsure if Noelle knew what her side business entailed, but getting driven around at gunpoint on that recent case had pretty much blown the lid right off the situation. Luckily, Noelle was as proud of her mother as if Stella had accepted the secretary of state job. But she had no desire to join in the business, which frankly made Stella happy. Unlike Chrissy, her daughter had no natural gift for vengeance or violence. What she did have was a cheerful friendly way with the customers, when she occasionally helped out in the shop, and she could get them to spend more than they planned on supplies and notions simply because they were busy chatting.

“Sure, I guess,” Noelle said, yawning. “Joy don’t get off work over at the laundry until three anyway, so what else have I got to do?”

Chapter Twelve

By eleven o’clock, Stella and Chrissy were sitting in the Jeep outside a nice-looking trilevel home set off by precisely trimmed hedges and shrubbery that looked like it had been made to behave. A big red GMC pickup shared the driveway with a dusty green minivan. After a moment or two, the garage door went up, revealing an interior crammed with workshop tools and stacked lumber and supplies, and a man came out dragging a trash can.

“He’s trimmed up some,” Stella observed. Salty had, indeed, lost much of the spare tire he’d been growing around his middle. He was dressed in a fleece jacket and nylon workout pants that didn’t show him to best advantage, but Stella judged him a nice-enough looking man—you could still see the shadow of his former athletic self, and he still had a full head of dishwater blond hair.

Salty noticed the Jeep pulled up in front of the house and hesitated. “Let’s get him now, before he decides he’s not feeling friendly,” Stella suggested.

They got out of the car as Salty gave them a tentative little wave. Stella wasn’t surprised by the lukewarm nature of the greeting—everyone in Prosper knew she was an unconvicted murderer, and plenty of them had heard rumors about her more recent endeavors. It tended to make even innocent men uncomfortable.

“Mrs. Hardesty, is that you? I haven’t seen you in an age.”

“Well, hello, Salty,” Stella said, edging cautiously up the icy drive. “It
has
been a while. This is my friend Chrissy Shaw.”

Salty gave Chrissy a carefully appraising look. “I think I remember you. You were in middle school when I was in high school, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy said, taking hold of her jacket zipper and tugging it down far enough that the top of her low-cut sweater was visible. Salty watched, his mouth gaping open. Stella hated to admit it, but Chrissy’s extraordinary cleavage had helped them out in more situations than she could count. She always felt a little uncomfortable using her assistant’s considerable natural appeal on the job, but it was just so darn effective. Men couldn’t seem to keep their minds on concealing the truth when they were faced with her impressive curves and sexy pout and wide, pale blue eyes.

Chrissy jutted one hip out provocatively and narrowed her eyes. “You were on the golf team or some shit like that.”

She said it in the same tone that she might have used if she’d said he’d been on the stable-mucking crew, but Salty stood straighter and sucked in his gut. “I was the captain, actually,” he said modestly, pushing the trash can over the curb into the street and wiping his hands on his pants.

“You building something in there?” Stella asked, pointing to the project laid out in the garage.

“Oh, that. We’re putting in a shed out back. Doraleigh—my wife—she wants to park in the garage, so I needed a place to move all my crap into. Oh well, it keeps me out of trouble, ha ha.”

“I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions,” Stella suggested. “We have a friend in common … and we’re a little worried about her. You know Priss Porter?”

Salty’s pale eyebrows shot up, and he pursed his mouth. “Priss? Why sure, I know her, but I ain’t heard from her in quite some time. What, has she—”

Just then the door leading into the house opened and a woman came striding out, holding a baby and poking at a cell phone with her free hand and talking away, in the middle of a sentence. “—get that mess swept up, because I need to—

“Oh,” she said when she finally noticed that they had company. She slipped the phone in her pocket and hitched the baby up higher on her shoulder. He was a handsome little baby, with her dark sturdy looks rather than Salty’s rather bland and featureless ones. She ran a hand through a cascade of badly dyed curly hair and produced a harried, insincere smile. “Hello.”

“Doraleigh, you remember Mrs. Hardesty,” Salty said. “And Chrissy Shaw, well you probably don’t remember her. She was a few years behind me. Doraleigh’s two years older than me,” he added, giving Chrissy a little smile.

Doraleigh shot him a look that contained about as much warmth as an iceberg. Then she turned to Chrissy and gave her a cool once-over. “I’ve met some of your kin, I believe. Seems like there’s a lot of Lardners around these parts.”

“We’re good at that,” Chrissy agreed. “Reproducin’.”

“And of course I remember you, Mrs. Hardesty,” Doraleigh added with only slightly more warmth. “Would you care to come in? I could put some coffee on. I’m sorry the house is in such a state—I’m trying to get Salty to clean up the mess he’s made out back, since we’re having company tonight.”

She couldn’t have made it more clear that the timing of the visit was inconvenient. The little boy in her arms started making a huffing sound as if he was winding up into a wail. Which was good, because Stella had hoped to talk to Salty by himself.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. “I’m sorry to intrude on your afternoon, I was just—”

“They’re here on account of the blanket drive that the highway patrol’s putting on,” Salty said quickly, and gave Stella a look that could only be described as pleading.

“Huh,” said Chrissy.

“Oh yes!” Stella exclaimed, blinking with surprise. “My dad was a patrolman. I just like to give back a little. In his memory. What a successful campaign we’re having this year, too.” She gave Doraleigh Mingus an expression that was as beatific as she could come up with on short notice, and gestured at the Jeep. “Just loading up with blankets and quilts, gonna drive them on over to the station.…”

Doraleigh considered them dubiously. “Is this like Toys for Tots? ’Cause usually I put the toys in the bins they got at church.”

“Yes, yes,” Stella agreed. “We do that, too. I, um, forgot that you and Salty had kids already. Seems like you two just tied the knot yesterday.”

“Hmm,” Doraleigh said as her son wiped a fist under his own runny nose and hiccupped in agitation. “I got to get in, I left Emma in the baby swing.”

“I’ll just be a minute, hon,” Salty said, visibly relieved. “I’ll get the back straightened out and then I can give you a hand with the kids.”

“Hmph,” Doraleigh said in a tone that implied she’d believe her husband was going to give her a hand around the very same time that pigs started flying through the air. She shot Chrissy one more doubtful look and then gave them a brisk nod. “Take care.”

“Oh, and you do the same,” Stella said sweetly.

Nobody spoke until the door to the house shut behind Doraleigh.

“Sorry about that,” Salty said in a low and agitated voice, as though he suspected his wife of having supersonic hearing. “Doraleigh’s just … well, she’s kinda jealous. She don’t like hearing about any of my old girlfriends, you know?”

“Priss and you were
involved,
” Stella said unnecessarily.

“Oh, I remember you guys in high school,” Chrissy said with a note of scorn. She had clearly decided to take the “bad cop” job this time around. “She was so smart, I couldn’t ever figure out why she was going out with you. No offense.”

“So you haven’t heard from her at all? Have you talked on the phone?”

Salty rubbed his chin with a big, meaty hand. “No, no, nothing like that. We just sort of fell out of touch.”

“But I thought you were living up in Kansas City a while back,” Chrissy said. “I heard you worked for Priss up there.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, that’s true, I worked for her for a while, but it’s been years.”

“How many years?” Stella asked. “Just curious.”

“Well … about three, I guess.”

Not that many,
Stella thought darkly. “And look at you now, married to a lovely woman and with a couple of beautiful children already. Isn’t it wonderful how things work out, sometimes.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What-all kind of business were you and she in?” Chrissy asked.

“It was, ah.” Salty pursed his lips into an
o
and looked at the ground. “Well, it was … landscaping.”

“Landscaping?”
Stella exchanged a glance with Chrissy. The Green Hat Ladies had said he hadn’t stuck to a regular job, and she remembered him doing construction here and there, but it seemed unlikely that he and Priss, with all her business acumen, couldn’t have come up with something a bit more ambitious. She was pretty sure Salty was lying.

“You ran a crew? Did design and installation? Bid on projects? That sort of thing?”

“Um, that was her end. I was, like, the guy who
did
the landscaping. You know, like a gardener.”

“Uh-huh. Well, like I said, we’re mostly just worried. Seein’ as she’s gone missing.”