Read Online An Affair to Dismember by Elise Sax - Free Book Online Page A

because I don’t feel like it,” Jane said, her voice even and calm. “I won’t lend you my car because the judge suspended your license after you got a DUI while your baby was in the backseat without a seat belt. The baby you lost to social services.”
    Yikes. The Brady Bunch this was not.
    Christy took notice of me for the first time and had the decency to blush. “What are you doing here?” she asked, none too charitably.
    “Gladie just came by to see if we needed anything,” said Betty, tapping out her cigarette in an ashtray.
    “We could use some sanity,” Jane suggested. Christy took a seat and lit up as well. The only ones in the kitchen who were not smoking were me and Cindy, who was dancing in and out of the kitchen in a purple caftan, happily rummaging in a purse as she spun around. I was pretty sure I felt tumors forming in my chest.
    I didn’t want to make chitchat. My enthusiasm had waned, less because I was sucking in the equivalent of two packs of smokes than because of the fact that—faced with all three daughters—I was no closer to discovering which one thought their father had been murdered. All three daughters, it turned out, were blond.
    Just eat the cake and leave
, I told myself. Why was I there in the first place? I didn’t want to get involved with these people. Of course the old man had slipped and hit his head. Old men did those kinds of things. It happened all the time.
    I took a bite of the cake. The oozy frosting settled on my tongue. My taste buds came to life, triggering my fight-or-flight response, and I nearly spit out the cake. It was awful. Worse than awful. Was Betty trying to poison me?
    Emily Post would have swallowed the cake. She wouldn’t have cared if it was gross or poison. But Bird Gonzalez would have spit that baby out halfway across the room. I weighed the advice of two sage women, and I came out on the side of my hairdresser.
    It was not worth the calories. Or food poisoning, for that matter. I scooted the cake over to the side of my mouth between my cheek and gums and asked to use the restroom. I spit the cake into the toilet and flushed it. Bird was a wise woman. I felt invigorated and empowered.
    It was time to get out of there. I had to reprioritize my priorities. I needed to match up my new neighbor and let Randy Terns rest in peace.
    I opened the bathroom door and walked face-first into Jane, who must have been waiting for me to get out of the bathroom. She wasn’t her usual smug self. Instead, concern etched every line in her face. She put her index finger up to her lips in the international shushing gesture. She moved in close to me until I felt her cigarette-laden breath on my face.
    “I have to speak to you,” she whispered. “Please, you have to help me.” Sweat beaded on her forehead, and I smelled fear on her.
    I nodded.
    “I have to talk to you about something,” she said. “I have to talk to you about murder.”
    “The blond daughter,” I whispered in realization. My heart beat with a
thud thud thud
, surely loud enough to bring attention to our conversation from the rest of the house. I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. I was riveted, determined to hear what Jane had to say.
    Then Peter, the Porsche driver, appeared in the hallway from nowhere. He was still wearing a very expensive suit, but it was wrinkled, and his tie was askew.“Jane, are you bothering Gladie?” He was clearly irritated at her.
    “Get lost,” Jane told him. Gone was the worried Jane of a few moments ago; the hard-as-nails Jane was back. “Gladie and I were just talking. She wants to talk to me.”
    “Yeah, right,” he said. “Nobody wants to talk to you, Jane.” He grabbed my upper arm and gave me a strong tug, sending me flying past Jane. He walked me down the hall, my arm clutched in his hand in a viselike grip. I turned long enough to see Jane wave at me, her cat smile plastered on her face.
    “Toodles,” she called.
    Outside, I found my voice.