Vanessa Gray Bartal - Lacy Steele 07 - Icy Grip of Murder (2 page)

He heard the news from someone
else.

“Woman, have you lost your mind?”

“I’m becoming impervious to that
question,” Lacy replied. She and Jason sat drinking coffee in her office,
sharing a few minutes of calm before the day began. Or it would have been calm,
if not for their disagreement. She should have told him straight away what she
had done; she should have known the town’s gossip mill would reach him with
miraculous speed.

“You hired Rain.
Rain,
Lacy.
I know you like to
help people, but this isn’t like giving Joe a job. This is above and beyond the
normal, even for you.”

“Jason, I genuinely need someone to
do part time work around here. I’m drowning in paperwork. Hiring someone to
help me will free up more time, time I can spend with you.”

“Don’t try to bribe me with the
promise of extra time. You know I want that, but not at this cost.”

“You’re being dramatic,” she
accused.

“Yes, that sounds like me. Drama,
drama, drama, all the time,” he said.

“I’m just saying that I think
you’re being a bit unreasonable about this.”

“Unreasonable?
I’m
being unreasonable? A few weeks ago this woman was standing
outside your building, protesting your corporate greed. I thought she was a
murderer. I’m still not convinced she wasn’t somewhere along the way. She’s
unstable, and she’s stalking Michael. What did he have to say about this?”

Lacy looked down, busying herself
with some papers. “He doesn’t know yet.”

“Please let me be the one to tell
him,” Jason said, setting aside his irritation for a moment of amusement.

“Suze needed some money. Her art
isn’t taking off.”

“Suze? I thought it was Rain.”

“She doesn’t want to be Rain
anymore; she wants a fresh start, but Susan doesn’t suit her either. We decided
on Suze.”

“Did you ever consider that the
reason
Suze’s
art isn’t taking off is
because she makes clothes for dead mice?” Jason suggested. “Allowing her a
space in the Stakely Building was your first mistake.”

“Art is subjective. Some people
like taxidermy,” Lacy said.

“Some people meaning Pearl,” Jason
said.

In the way that crazy often
attracts crazy, Pearl, Tosh’s secretary, found Susan Jenkins, AKA Rain, crying
by the side of the road a few weeks ago. The two formed an instant bond. Pearl
took her in and taught her the ropes of taxidermy, which Suze took to with
fervency. She approached Lacy with eight dead mice dressed as Snow White and
the Seven Dwarves, asking to rent a space in the Stakely building for her art.
At first, Lacy had misgivings, but in Suze she saw a lost soul looking for a
soft place to land. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to see the same thing, no
one but Pearl. Though she would never admit it to Jason, Lacy was a little
worried that she and Pearl saw eye to eye on something. When it became clear
that Suze wasn’t going to make any money off her macabre creations, Lacy
hatched the idea to hire her as a part-time secretary. She had just broken the
news to Jason, and his reaction was worse than she thought it would be.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lacy said.

“Or you’ll do something to set her
off and she’ll stab you in the eye,” Jason said.

“If that happens, you can have me
stuffed. I know a good taxidermist,” Lacy said. Jason could bluster, but it was
her business, and she was resolute.

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of
coffee, but she could tell by the way the corners of his eyes turned up that he
was trying not to smile. “You are so messed up.”

“And you’re dating me. What does
that make you?”

“Lucky.” He tossed back the
remainder of his coffee, stood, and leaned over the desk to give her a kiss. “I
have to go. Meth waits for no man.”

“Somewhere a drug dealer is saying
that same thing to his girlfriend,” she said.

“And then four of his teeth fall
out and clatter to the table. See you later.”

“See you,” Lacy said. She watched
him go with a smile before turning her attention to the pile of work on her
desk. Her productivity was short-lived. Michael entered the open door and sat
down in the chair Jason had vacated.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hi,” Lacy said, wary now. Had he
heard about her new secretary? If Jason had heard, chances were good that
Michael had, too. Knowing Jason, he might have stopped to break the news on his
way out. He would have enjoyed seeing Michael’s usually unflappable expression
shift to horror.

“You can ease the
mouse-caught-in-a-trap look from your face. I know about Rain.”

“It’s Suze now,” Lacy said.

“Are you genuinely trying to help a
girl down on her luck, or was this an attempt to annoy me?”

“It’s a tossup.”

“Well played,” he said. “I can’t
tell you the joy it brings me to see a former paramour everywhere I go, every
day, all day long.”

“She’ll probably take the hint soon
and get over her crush,” Lacy said.

“She slept on my porch last night.
This morning she pressed her face to the window and watched me eat breakfast.
When I walked outside, she asked for a chunk of my hair.”

“Some people take longer to get the
hint than others.”

“Who made the coffee today?”

“Jason.” He stood to retrieve a
cup. He never drank it when Lacy made it. “My coffee is not that bad.”

“Your coffee tastes like wet
cigarettes.”

“You would know,” she said.

“I haven’t smoked in three months,
thank you very much.”

“That’s really great, Michael. You
should buy yourself something to celebrate.”

“I’m thinking of taking Kimber
out.”

“What? No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asked.

“I mean no. Kimber is vulnerable and
you’re…well, you’re you. She can’t take anymore hurt right now.”

“Isn’t that for her to decide?
Kimber’s a big girl, and we have a good time together. What’s the harm in
dating?”

“The harm is that I don’t want
Kimber to be the next girl who sleeps on your porch and begs for your hair. If
you want to inflict your disastrous dating style on someone else, that’s fine,
but leave my friends alone.”

“Where am I supposed to meet
anyone? I work all the time, and when I’m not working I’m with you and Jason.
I’ve become a pathetic third wheel, and this town is out of fresh resources.”

“Maybe you could try online
dating,” Lacy suggested.

He stared at her as if the words
didn’t make sense.

“Or maybe you could give Suze
another chance. I think she’s a nice girl, beneath all the crazy.”

“Crazy doesn’t bother me;
desperation does. She seemed so aloof when I found her sleeping on that
sidewalk,” he said.

“This is what happens when you
think dating homeless people is a good idea,” Lacy said.

“It’s never turned out badly
before,” he said. He sat and propped his feet on her desk. “You have a tail.”

“What?”

“Dangling below your skirt is a
very tiny tail,” he said.

Lacy glanced down and suppressed a
groan. After she walked in on her changing last week, her sister, Riley, had
convinced her to try a few pairs of fancy French underwear.
You’re a grown, professional woman, Lacy.
You cannot wear cotton underwear. It’s time to buy something pretty. I’ll even
buy some for you. Just burn that underwear.

Lacy’s argument that cotton
underwear was sensible had fallen on deaf ears.
I have different underwear for different purposes. Don’t you? Cotton is
a reliable choice for work.

Cotton
is a reliable choice for a ten year old,
Riley had countered.
It’s not like you’re a construction worker.
You sit in an office all day. Your attire should match your profession.
That
afternoon Lacy returned home to find all of her underpants gone and replaced by
silk and lace confections in a myriad of colors. And, like an idiot, she had
let herself be swayed by their beauty, despite her reservations that they would
never hold up in the real world. Now she was being proved correct because the
black string dangling from her skirt was the exact color of that day’s
underwear. And her mother willingly wanted her to spend time with her
underpants stealing “helpless” little sister.

“It’s nothing,” Lacy said, hiding
her pink cheeks as she tucked the string up under her leg.

“Believe it or not, I’m willing to
leave it at that,” Michael said. “I have no desire to know what might be going
on under there, proof that I’m growing as a person.”

Whatever Lacy was going to reply
was interrupted by a knock. Their attention shifted to the open door where Pearl
stood clutching a large manila envelope. “Hi, Pearl,” Lacy said, her tone wary.
It wasn’t that long ago that Pearl had hated her with a scary sort of passion.
The fact that she now pretended they were bosom buddies only put Lacy more on
alert. Pearl’s affections were easily swayed, apparently, and Lacy had no
desire to be back on her bad side. Riley was there now and could never get any
calls through to Tosh.

“Hi, Lacy, hi, Roger,” Pearl said,
nodding at Michael, whose name she could never seem to remember. “Is this a bad
time? I don’t want to interrupt.”

“No, we’re chatting. What can I do
for you?” Lacy said
,
noting that “Roger” made no move
to leave. He did remove his feet from the desk and give Pearl his full
attention, as if somehow sensing that whatever she was about to say was going
to be good.

“Well, I have a favor to ask of
you,” Pearl said.

“Oh? What…what is it?” Lacy asked
with more than a little trepidation.

“It’s just that you and I are so
much alike,” Pearl said. Michael coughed and covered his mouth with his elbow.
“We both care about Tosh and Suze, and we have similar interests.”

“We do?” Lacy asked.

“We’re both writers,” Pearl
clarified. “I remember when you wrote for the paper, and it was good. Not
great, but
good
. Anyway, I’ve written something, and I
would value your input on it.”

“What is it?” Lacy asked, eying the
bulging manila envelope with suspicion.

“A screenplay,” Pearl said. “I
think it’s good, but of course I’m biased. I would love to hear a second
opinion about it. Will you read it?” She took a step forward and shoved the
envelope in Lacy’s face.

Lacy froze. Instinct warned her not
to reach out and take the envelope, but Michael had no such compunctions. “Of
course she will. What are friends for?”

Pearl heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thanks. You won’t be sorry.”

“I guarantee it,” Michael said.

Pearl headed toward the exit,
beaming now. “Bye, Lacy, bye, Roger.”

“Bye,” Michael called, waving. As
soon as Pearl was gone, Lacy leaned forward and hissed.

“What did you do that for? I don’t
want to read her play.”

“Lacy, think for a minute. Do you
even understand what this is? This is a glimpse into Pearl’s inner psyche. Do
you know how few people have gotten this chance? You can’t buy this kind of
entertainment, and it was handed to you on a silver platter. I care about you
too much to let this opportunity pass you by.”

“You’re not reading this play,” she
said.

His face fell. “C’mon, please?”

“No. You’ll make fun of her,” she
said.

“So will you,” he replied.

“But not out loud. You will laugh
and take pleasure at her expense. She can’t help the way she is, and putting
her oddness on display is not right. I’m going to read this privately, and
you’ll never know what’s in it,” she said.

“You’re mean,” he said.

“Don’t you have a store to run?” she
asked.

“It’s a slow morning, but I can
take a hint,” he said. “Maybe we could hang out tonight.”

“You’re not reading the play,” Lacy
said.

“Everyone thinks you’re sweet.
Lies,” he said as he walked out the door. Lacy stood and closed the door behind
him. She locked it and returned to her desk, hiking her skirt to check her
underwear. As she had suspected, it was coming unraveled at her hip. She leaned
over backwards to grab the scissors from her drawer when the door opened and
Suze entered.

Lacy froze. “This isn’t what it
looks like.”

“It looks like your underwear is
unraveling and you’re trying to fix it,” Suze said.

“Oh, then it’s exactly what it
looks like.” Lacy retrieved the scissors and snipped the excess thread,
stuffing it into the trash. She straightened her skirt and made a mental note to
fix the lock on her door. “What can I do for you?”

“Pearl called and wanted me to ask
you if you’ve had a chance to start reading yet.”

Lacy refrained from asking if she
was joking. This would be her life until she finished reading the cursed play.
“Not yet. If she calls back, tell her I’ll try to work on it tonight.”

“All right. You know, if you don’t
wear underwear, it can’t unravel. That’s why I never do,” Suze said before
turning and going back out again.

“I wonder where I can get a gallon
of eye bleach to erase that mental image,” Lacy muttered. She sat and tried to
work more, but Pearl’s play stared accusingly at her. Her mind was antsy and
distracted. Maybe a walk would help. She jogged down the stairs and found
Kimber working in her studio.

“What kind of underpants do you
wear?” she asked, and the nose fell off Kimber’s statue.

“In what universe are we having
this conversation?” Kimber asked.

“Riley made fun of my go-to-work
underwear. She stole it all and bought me new stuff. It’s pretty, but it’s coming
apart, and I might be getting a rash.”

“Maybe you should tell Riley what
I’m about to tell you: It’s no one’s business but yours and the Holy Ghost what
kind of underwear you choose.”

“I know that, but Riley has a way
of maneuvering around my defenses and getting in my head. She’s like brain lice
to me,” Lacy said. “And have you ever noticed that the women who get murdered
on TV and in movies are always wearing fancy matching bra and underwear sets?
Statistically speaking, I’ve significantly upped my chances of getting bumped
off by wearing this stuff.”