Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

up from the table and ambled over to the stove to stir the oatmeal. Cindie Rae watched him with a carnivorous expression. ``Alan says you can figure out how that Pinkerton woman killed Popo.''

``Pinky? That's ridiculous.''

Sensing I might turn her down, Cindie Rae focused the full force of her personality on me at last. ``Alan says you'll do it because you're old friends. He says you can do a better job than the police. And you heard what she said last night.''

``I'm sure Pinky never meant--''

``She's a menace! She shouldn't be walking around. She killed both her husbands, didn't she? She's as bad as you Blackbirds.''

We heard a clatter as Michael dropped the wooden spoon.

I said, ``Her husbands died of natural causes, Cindie Rae.''

``That's the official story, but she has friends in high places. She probably bought her way out of both of those murder charges. I saw it on Stripperella once. Pamela An- derson figured it out. It shouldn't be too hard for you.''

``Miracles do happen.'' I sighed. ``I don't know, Cindie Rae.'' 38 Nancy Martin

``You should ask around. You're naturally nosy, right? And my Pookums seems to think you're relatively smart.''

``Thanks,'' I said dryly. ``But--''

``He said you'd help. He said you valued friendship very highly, and you'd prove Mrs. Pinkerton did it because you're a nice person.''

I stewed for a moment. I liked Alan, and I was sorry to hear he'd been arrested. Although I was reasonably sure Pinky hadn't laid a finger on Popo, it wouldn't hurt anyone to ask a few questions. And, frankly, I wanted to know who had locked me in the bathroom.

I didn't realize I was frowning.

Michael said, ``I know that expression.''

``Oh,'' said Cindie Rae brightly. ``Have you seen my Web site?'' Chapter 5

While I dressed in a suit that had belonged to my grand- mother--a woman of discerning fashion sense and a pen- chant for trips to Paris to indulge her taste--Michael re- arranged his schedule for the afternoon. When I went downstairs, he told me he liked the Dior skirt.

``I wish I'd had a chance to see the old girl wear these duds.'' Michael touched my skirt, perhaps to better judge the tailoring, but I doubted it. ``She must have been almost as easy on the eyes as you.''

As he drove me over to the Main Line, the winter sun shone bright and warm through the windshield. Michael took the back roads out of Bucks County. Occasionally he interrupted our conversation to speak on his cell phone to various business associates. I couldn't help thinking he had begun to sound like a mogul.

When he disconnected for the last time, I said, ``Are you starting another business?''

Among his many concerns, Michael ran a used-car deal- ership, a motorcycle garage with an attached tattoo parlor, a fly-fishing outfitter, a limousine service, a grass-growing venture called the Marquis de Sod, and, of course, Gas 'n' Grub, a gas station that had blossomed into an enormously successful chain of gasoline and convenience stores. While I scraped every penny that came my way, Michael was sud- denly swimming in money.

He said, ``I'm thinking of investing in automotive parts.''

``Factory authorized?''

``Used.''

``Do I want to know anything about that?''

39 40 Nancy Martin

``It's perfectly legal,'' he said. ``Tell me about the woman we're going to see.''

``Pinky Pinkerton. She used to play doubles with my grandparents.''

``Doubles?''

``Tennis,'' I said. I checked on Spike in my handbag and found him snoozing peacefully. ``Pinky had a serve that looked as if it had been fired from a bazooka. Pinky could play just about any sport, as a matter of fact. If she'd been born in another era, she'd probably have become a profes- sional athlete. Her granddaughter is an up-and-coming pro golfer. Kerry Pinkerton. Have you heard of her?''

``Uh, we didn't follow golf at the correctional institution.''

``Did you follow Cindie Rae's career instead?''

He smiled at the road. ``Probably. I don't remember her.''

``You didn't look at their faces?''

``She's had a lot of work done on her face, hasn't she?''

``And a few other places. She hardly looks human to me. Did you find her attractive?''

``Is there any way I'm going to come out good in this conversation?''

``Probably not.''

He patted my knee. ``You're the one who makes my temperature rise, sweetheart. Besides, she could be one of your suspects, right?''

``Techincally, yes,'' I said. ``Pinky made threats against Popo, but not as vicious as the ones Cindie Rae made.''

``Would Cindie Rae have a motive to kill the shopping lady?''

``Only to get her hands on more merchandise, which seems a little flimsy. And why would she come to me for help if she was the one who murdered Popo? Or was she fishing for information?''

``I don't think she's on the short list for any Nobel prizes. Anyway, I still like the assistant.''

``We'll find Darwin next. But first-- Oh, turn here.''

``Here?'' Michael peered up through the windshield at a set of iron gates pinned open to reveal a long, meandering driveway paved with cobblestones. ``What is this? A monas- tery or something?'' SLAY BELLES 41

``It's the Pinkerton house. Careful. Pinky has a gazillion little dogs. If you hit one, you'll have to move out of the country.''

Michael turned the car into the shady lane. ``Is that a golf course?''

``Just three holes. It's very pretty in the springtime.'' I pointed. ``See the barn down? They used to keep Shetland ponies there. My cousin Brophy and Pinky's son Kelpy were best friends, and Brophy brought me here a few times.''

``Why can't you people have normal names?''

``Like Big Frankie and Monty Python? Or Johnny the Cap and--''

``Okay, okay. Which way?''

We had come to a fork in the driveway. I indicated a left turn, and we arrived a moment later at a