Eggs Benedict Arnold (45 page)

“
Excellent,
”
said Suzanne, positioning herself next to
the purple
hoodie
girl and telling herself this was all in fun.
A jest. Nothing to worry about. A quick strut around the
showroom floor and then it would be over. Her fifteen sec
onds of fame.

But when the music rose in volume, when
“
Under My
Thumb
”
by the Rolling Stones blasted from the loudspeak
ers, Suzanne
’
s knees began to shake. The pulsing, pound
ing rhythm seemed to synch with her rapidly beating heart.
The change has come ...
thump, thump ...
she
’
s under my thumb ...
thump, thump.

But there was something else going on out there, too. Applause. And cheers that greeted the models who were already out there walking the runway.

Gotta try to have fun. Not look like I
’
m doing the chicken
dance out there.

And then, way too soon, Suzanne was at the head of the line. Missy put a hand on her shoulder and urged,
“
Smile!
”

Suzanne gritted her teeth and smiled.

“
You look like you
’
re bracing for a root canal,
”
Missy hissed.

Suzanne tried again.

“
Better,
”
said Missy. She put her hand in the small of Suzanne
’
s back, gave a slight push.
“
Now ... go!
”

Suzanne stepped out from behind the curtain to face a low
bank of stupendously bright lights as well as a sea of familiar
faces.
She smiled, cocked her head, stuck her hands into the
pockets of her oh-so-stylish leather jacket, and strode down
the white Mylar runway. Six steps in, she felt the excitement
and the beat grab hold. The high-heeled boots she
’
d been
given lent her walk a little swagger. Gaining confidence now,
she kicked up her heels a bit and moved her shoulders in a
slight exaggeration, appropriating the walk of the supermod
els she
’
d seen parading around in ted
di
e
s and glittery angel
wings on the Victoria
’
s Secret TV fashion show.

Suzanne high-stepped down the runway, chin up, smile
for real. She was headed for the sweet spot Missy had
pointed out. The point where you were supposed to pause,
pose, then turn around.

I
can do this!
she told herself.
I
’
m feeling it!

She swished past purple
hoodie
girl, who was returning
from her pause and pose moment and heading for the second half of the runway. And that
’
s when it all fell apart.

The front door of the shop crashed open loudly and a large shadow suddenly loomed in the doorway! Then the figure surged forward and the sound of stomping boots contrasted crazily with the thumping soundtrack.

Heads turned, models suddenly faltered in their tracks,
and from the back of the shop, Carmen yelled a shrill,
“
What the Sam Hill?
”

Sheriff Roy Doogie, dressed head-to-toe in unfashionable khaki, his chapeau a modified Smokey Bear style,
had blundered in and brought the entire fashion show to a
screeching halt!

Caught like a deer in the klieg lights, Doogie lurched to a stop and let his beady eyes roam the crowd. Finally
they landed on Suzanne. His face turned the color of a ripe
persimmon and seemed to swell up. His mouth and jaw worked frantically.

Uh- oh,
thought Suzanne.
Here it comes.

“
Suzanne!
”
Doogie shouted at the top of his lungs.

Doggone,
she thought to herself.
He picked up Dill

Turns out, she was way wrong.

“
You
were the one who called in that anonymous tip!
”
Doogie thundered in front of everyone. His brow furrowed angrily as he shifted from one clodhopper to the other while
a sea of startled faces stared at him. But
—and here, Suzanne
had to give Doogie full credit—he didn
’
t back down.

Like a crazed wraith, Carmen Copeland suddenly flew
out from behind the white curtain and hurled her fashionable
self in Doogie
’
s direction. Which woke Suzanne from her
semi-stupor and sent her catapulting toward Doogie as well.

“
Are you insane?
”
Carmen shrilled at Doogie.
“
What do
you think you
’
re doing? Who do you think you
are
!
”
Her hands, clutched like claws, were poised to inflict bodily harm on the sheriff.

“
Carmen,
”
pleaded Suzanne, as she threw herself between
them like a human sacrifice,
“
let me take care of this!
”
Grab
bing Doogie
’
s arm, Suzanne tried to pull Doogie away from
the spotlight and toward the still-open front door.

“
I. .. excuse me,
”
Doogie muttered to Carmen. But he
still wouldn
’
t budge as he cast furious glances at Suzanne.

“
Pleeease,
”
Suzanne begged, tugging Doogie again. But
it was like trying to move a locomotive.
“
Let me explain.
”

“
You
’
d better,
”
snarled Doogie.

“
Please,
”
Suzanne repeated.
“
Outside?
”

Doogie finally relented and allowed Suzanne to lead him by the arm.
“
You better explain,
”
he see
th
ed
, as they trod past shocked and sniggering onlookers.
“
You
’
d just better have a doggone
brilliant
explanation!
”

“
I do,
”
said Suzanne, when they were finally outside,
away from prying eyes, away from the
f
ashion show itself.

“
Because you and Toni were at that farm the other
night!
”
screeched Doogie.
“
How do I know?
”
he continued
angrily.
“
Because those two potheads finally broke down and spilled their guts. They told me you two girls were out
there Wednesday night
—snooping around!
”

“
Okay,
”
said Suzanne, deciding the best thing to do was
let Doogie carry on with his rant. Sooner or later he
’
d wear
out and wind down. Wouldn
’
t he? Then maybe she could talk some sense into him. Or at least explain.

“
And I
know
for sure it was you two,
”
Doogie rasped,
“
because those bad boys
described
you and Toni to a T!
”

“
Those guys pulled a gun on us!
”
said Suzanne, trying
to muster a serious amount of rage and indignation.
“
And
locked us in a barn!
”

Doogie was unimpressed.
“
I don
’
t care if they locked you in the storm cellar, filled it full of water, and threw
away the key! You gotta tell me about this stuff when it
happens.
The minute it goes down!
”

“
I know that,
”
said Suzanne, sounding slightly contrite.
“
And I
’
m sorry.
”

“
You
should
be
sorry,
”
grumbled Doogie. He was begin
ning to lose his head of steam.
“
In case you haven
’
t noticed, I
’
ve got my hands full right now!
”

“
Those dope guys didn
’
t have anything to do with Ozzie
and Bo
’
s murder,
”
said Suzanne.
“
You know that, don
’
t you?
”

Doogie pulled off his hat, reached in his baggy trousers
for a hanky, and mopped his forehead as well as the top of his head.
“
I been figuring that out.
”
More mopping.
“
S
’
not the point.
”

“
Okay,
”
said Suzanne. She sincerely wished the people
driving by would stop staring at them. Or maybe they were
staring at her tight jeans and leather jacket. Or maybe they
were utterly horrified by her visible panty line.

Who knew?
Who cared?

“
Just what in blue blazes were you two
doing
out there
anyway?
”
demanded Doogie.

Suzanne decided she
’
d better fess up.
“
Toni was all hot
and bothered about Junior,
”
she told Doogie.
“
She was
afraid Junior was involved in some sort of meth lab deal.
”

“
Those two yahoos I got sitting in the can over at the law
enforcement center say Junior
was
involved,
”
said Doogie.

“
No,
”
said Suzanne.
“
We found out he wasn
’
t. Trust me.
”
She cast a glance toward the sky, praying a bolt of lightning wouldn
’
t descend from the low-hanging clouds
and strike her dead.
Please, Lord, just forgive me this one little white lie, okay? I promise I
’
ll make amends. I
’
ll help out at the senior citizens
’
home. And with the next pancake supper at church. I
’
ll even knit scarves for orphans, just as
soon as I learn how to knit.

“
Junior wasn
’
t involved?
”
said Doogie. He looked more
than a little skeptical.

“
That
’
s right,
”
said Suzanne.
“
We thought he was, but he wasn
’
t. We were just...
”
She took a gulp.
“
... we were completely overreacting.
”

“
Huh,
”
said Doogie, half buying her story.
“
I wonder what else those potheads are lying about?
”