Sink Trap (7 page)

I knew exactly how they felt.

I punched the message button, and listened as I dragged off my boots and shrugged out of my coveralls. I’d need to clean and oil the boots, but that could wait until tomorrow.

My mother had called, asking what I wanted for my birthday. It was still several months away, but I could picture her with her PDA and Bluetooth phone, setting up her calendar for the rest of the year.

I imagined her tapping in an appointment in October to shop for my gift, after she finished her Christmas shopping, and I shuddered at the image. It was how I used to be.

I dumped the boots and coveralls in the utility room, grabbing a clean towel from the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. I was either going to have to get better at housework or hire someone.

With my bank balance? I started folding clothes while the machine played the next message.

It was my mother, again. Just reminding me that we had a dinner date with Gregory for Monday night, and I was supposed to ask Wade to join us.

There was a message from Sue, wondering if I had learned anything about the brooch, and did I want to bring Daisy and Buddha for a trim tomorrow afternoon, they had looked a little shaggy when she was here last night.

I called the dogs in, and was ready for the shower when I heard Wade’s voice. “Hi, Georgie. Sorry last night didn’t work out. I’m finishing up here, and have the rest of the evening free. Want to cash in that rain check? I’ll bring dinner.” There was a pause, like he was waiting for me to pick up, then he said, “Just call me when you get in. We’ll figure something out.”

I realized I was clutching my bathrobe around me, as though Wade were actually in the room with me.

Loosen up, Neverall!

I promised myself I’d call him back as soon as I was dressed.

The last call was from Paula. “Hi, Georgiana.” Her usually cheery voice was at least an octave higher with stress. “I’ve looked everywhere for an address for Martha Tepper, but the only one I have is the house here, which doesn’t help at all. I would have sworn she talked to me about Tucson, but I can’t find an address, and I don’t have a new phone number, either. I tried the old one, but it just rang and rang, like you said. I called a couple people who should have her address and phone, but nobody does.” Her voice rose until she was nearly squeaking. “It’s not like her to just leave without checking in with somebody. I mean, she used to send me postcards when she went to weekend conferences. Give me a call as soon as you can, and maybe we can track down her new address. Or something. Please. Thanks! Bye.”

The machine clicked off, and I rewound it to listen to Paula’s message again. Although she didn’t say she was worried, the strain in her voice told me clearly how upset she was. It would be easy to do some in-depth computer searching, but from what I’d seen at the library, Paula wasn’t all that computer savvy. That would be the first thing I’d show her.

After a shower and clean clothes, I felt much better. Miss Tepper and her brooch were certainly a mystery—one that was beginning to be a serious worry—but not one I was going to solve on a Friday night.

I called Wade’s cell, and cashed my rain check.

“How about pizza from Garibaldi’s? I seem to remember it was your favorite.” His tone was light, but I got the sense that he was testing both our memories.

“Sorry! I had their pizza last night. I’ve got leftovers in my fridge. It’s still the best,” I added hastily.

Wade was quiet for a moment, probably thinking. It wasn’t like the town had a lot of options.

“How about Tiny’s, then?” he said.

“Sounds fine,” I replied. “Are they as good as everybody says?”

“Better. But you’ve been back long enough to know that, haven’t you?”

“Not really.” I shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see the gesture over the phone, and felt a bit silly. “How about if I meet you there?”

“I’m just leaving the office,” he said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay. See you in five.”

Daisy and Buddha gave me their best sad doggy eyes as I headed out the front door. “I’ll bring a doggy bag,” I said to assuage the guilt they managed to inspire. “Promise.”

Tiny’s was packed. The only tavern in Pine Ridge, it was the place to go on Friday nights, and tonight was no exception.

Wade snagged us a table, and elbowed his way to the bar.

I looked around Tiny’s while I waited. It was a place I always heard about as a kid, the spot where everyone gathered after work and on weekends, but it was strictly for adults. As a child, it had seemed exotic and forbidden, full of mysteries and magical smells, none of which I understood, but all of which I craved.

Now I realized it was just a small-town tavern with battered and mismatched wooden tables and chairs, a dark wood bar, a couple beer taps, and a jukebox in the corner of a postage-stamp-size dance floor. The smells were no
longer magical, just fry grease, smoke, and beer, though they still made my mouth water.

As for the mysteries, I suspected they were still there.

“I ordered chicken baskets,” Wade said when he returned with a couple schooners of draft, sinking into the wooden chair next to me. “Strips, fries, and the best cole slaw you’ve ever had.”

“Pizza last night, fried chicken tonight.” I shook my head. “I’ll have to eat salad all weekend to make up for this!”

“Not by what I see,” Wade said, giving me a once-over that somehow stopped just short of a leer. “Or what I hear.”

“What does that mean, what you hear?”

“My sources tell me you—and I quote—‘Worked your ass off out there’ today. Though”—he gave me the look again—“from here I would say that anatomical part appears to still be attached.”

“Who said that?” Whom had Wade been talking to, and just how had my name come up, anyway?

“Sean. He stopped by on his way home.”

“Sean? The foreman? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“Acquaintances, more like it.” Wade took another swallow of beer. “He had some papers to drop off, and I was leaving a message on your machine when he walked in.”

A waitress stopped at our table and deposited plastic baskets of chicken and fries.

“So,” I said after she left, “what about Sean?”

“Nothing much. He came in while I was leaving my message. Heard me say ‘Georgie,’ and asked if I meant Neverall. I told him sure, since there aren’t many Geor gies around here, and only one who I’d want to have dinner with.” He grinned, and touched my hand briefly. “He said he’d be surprised if you weren’t too tired to even eat, and that was when he said you’d, well, you know.” Apparently,
Wade wasn’t about to mention my backside a second time. Which was fine with me. “I gotta tell you, Georgie, that’s the nicest thing I have heard him say about a woman in probably two years.”

“Yeah, nice.” My lingering soreness gave my words an edge. “I’ve noticed he seems to have an issue with women.”

“Yeah,” Wade said. “Ever since his wife left him, Sean’s had a sour outlook on women. I don’t see that changing soon, but it sounds like he’s easing up a little where you’re concerned.”

“Well, I can’t believe any woman would stay with him.” That sounded harsh. “Maybe I’m seeing the effect, not the cause, though. And you think I made an impression?” I thought about it for a second. “Wow.”

The chicken had come fresh from the fryer, but by now it had cooled enough for me to chance a bite. The coating crackled when I bit into it, dripping steaming juices onto the paper-lined basket. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my chin.

Wade glanced around. The tavern was crowded, but our table was tucked back in a quiet corner. He spoke quietly. “Pretty much everybody knew there was another woman. This is a small town. The gossip mill was churning full speed.”

“What?!” I sputtered. “You expect me to, I don’t know, be understanding of his bad attitude because his wife left him, and then you tell me he was cheating? No sympathy here.” I leaned forward. “I don’t accept excuses for cheating. Remember?”

It was what broke us up in the first place. Not that Wade had cheated, but he’d covered for a buddy who was cheating on Sue. When I found out, I made a grand speech about sisterhood, and how his complicity—yes, I actually used that word—made him just as guilty.

I might have been a teeny bit over the top.

Since I was still a kid, the drama queen genes I got
from my mother hadn’t been tamed yet. I lived in hope that I’d do better these days.

Of course, Sue found out anyway, dumped the jerk, and was still Prom Queen. My relationship with Wade never quite recovered.

“How could I forget?” Wade winced. “But it wasn’t Sean chasing the other woman. It was Mindy.”

“Mindy? Mindy Tabor? He married Mindy Tabor? And she was gay?”

Wade nodded and took a long swallow of beer. “It happens.”

“Wow.” I sat for a minute, staring into my beer. “Have to admit, that makes Sean’s attitude somewhat more understandable.”

Wade tilted his head to one side, and studied me. It quickly made me uncomfortable, and I looked away. Finally he spoke again.

“It was tough on him, no question. You remember how much of a small town Pine Ridge is, everybody knows everybody else’s business. There wasn’t any hiding what happened.”

That was life in a small town, all right. It was one of the reasons I had hesitated to come back to Pine Ridge, for fear everyone would know what happened in San Francisco. I tried Portland while I took plumbing classes at the community college, but the chance at on-the-job training in Pine Ridge was too good to pass up.

Now I was sitting in the local tavern, sharing gossip with my former high school sweetheart, and I wondered how much he really knew about me . . .

“I can’t believe you didn’t know. You were always the one with the news, the 411 on everybody. You and Sue kept me up on everything. And now I’m the one breaking the big scoop.” Wade drained his beer and grinned. “Kind of a nice change, actually.”

He pointed to my nearly empty schooner. “Another round?”

“Sure.” The word was out of my mouth before I thought about it, and Wade headed back to the bar.

I should have said no. I knew it. But I signed on for the second act.

I guess that makes what happened next my fault.

chapter 7

If I had gone home early, we could have avoided the subject of Sandra Neverall, and her “friend” Gregory. But a second beer meant another hour in Tiny’s. The Councilman firmly believed in a “one drink, one hour” guideline.

So did I. I was stuck.

And another hour meant conversation that circled closer and closer to topics I didn’t want to discuss. As a distraction, I rattled on about the latest Homes for Help project. Wade told me he’d done some of the rough carpentry when they were framing the house.

The shared connection gave me a warm glow. Or maybe that was just the second beer.

At some point, I remembered dinner on Monday with my mother and Gregory, and told Wade. To my surprise, he didn’t groan or protest. In fact, he seemed to welcome the invitation.

“You’re okay with that?” I asked him. “You don’t mind the command performance with my mother and her pal?”

“Oh,” he said, with a look that said a lot more. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Like what?” I refused to admit I knew what he meant.

“You don’t like Gregory, do you?”

“You’re answering a question with a question.”

“You started it,” he said, not backing down. “And I asked you first.”

I gave it a moment’s thought, then shook my head. “Actually, no. I asked the first question: if you were okay with having dinner with Mother and Gregory.”

“Have it your way. Yes, I’m fine with having dinner with them. Gregory was a big supporter of my campaign when I ran for the Council, and we’ve worked together on a couple of committees. We get along just fine.

“Now, it’s your turn to answer my question.”

“Which one?” I stalled.

“You don’t like Gregory Whitlock, do you?”

I sat back and held myself straight in my chair. “I don’t know the man well enough to have an opinion.”

“But you clearly do.”

“Know him? No, I don’t.”

“Have an opinion.” Wade’s voice was exasperated. “You clearly have an opinion of Gregory, and it isn’t positive.”

“It’s not like that. I just don’t know anything about him.”

“Except that he’s dating your mother.”

“Is he?” I studied the foam on top of my beer, avoiding Wade’s eyes. I knew I would see sympathy, and I didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.

“You know he is, Georgie.” Wade laid his hand over mine on the tabletop, and gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s tough. I went through the same thing when my mom started dating, after her divorce. Nobody was good enough.”

He cleared his throat, and continued. “Nobody was my dad.”