Read Online Death in a Funhouse Mirror by Kate Flora - Free Book Online Page A

her way. Sort of looks like that's happening here. I'd just as soon pass, thank you." He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, body language that said, as clearly as his words, that he was withdrawing. The guy who'd been swinging me around the kitchen minutes before was gone.
    He hardly ever mentioned his ex-wife. Maybe two or three times since we met. All I knew about her was that he thoroughly despised her. And now he was comparing me to her. Unfairly, it seemed to me. I hadn't listened to him and rejected what he had to say. He'd refused to talk. But trying to get him to talk when he didn't want to was like beating my head against a wall. The only satisfaction I'd get was that it would stop hurting when I stopped banging. I'd get nothing from him. "You want some more coffee?"
    His eyebrows went up. "Is that a truce? Are we going to stop beating the dead horse now?"
    "Not exactly. I don't think the horse is dead," I said, "but sitting here butting horns won't get us anywhere." I got the pot and poured us each more coffee. We drank it in silence. The brilliant May sunshine still poured in through the windows and the curtains still billowed, but the charm had gone out of the day. This was not the weekend I had so eagerly anticipated, driving home on Friday. The aspirin were taking the edge off my headache, but now that I was generally discouraged, it was easier to notice how tired and spacey my tortured sleep had left me.
    He got up, still without speaking, and started clearing the table. I carried my coffee out to the deck and admired the view. I might as well enjoy it, I was paying enough for it. Through the open door, I could hear him loading the dishwasher and cleaning up the kitchen. That was our arrangement. If one cooked, the other cleaned up. At least he wasn't in such a rush he was going to take off and leave me with the mess. I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes, basking in the heat of the sun, gradually slipping into a trance.
    "I'm leaving," he said from the doorway. "May I have my shirt?"
    I got up, still half-asleep, and went inside, unable to focus at first after the blinding sun outside. I fingered the first button, hesitating, unwilling to part with the shirt. Things might be unpleasant between us right now, but I still liked him, still loved him, still liked wearing a shirt that smelled like him. But for all I knew, it might be one of his only good shirts. He might need it for court. I was used to seeing him in casual clothes. "Please, Thea," he said impatiently. I stripped it off and threw it at him. He caught it and stuffed it into his bag.
    "I'll call you," he said. He put his hand on the knob, hesitated, and turned around. "Don't get drawn into that mess between Eve and her father. They're both accomplished manipulators. Between them, they'll grind you into powder." He knows I hate being told what to do, and dislike even more being told what not to do. His advice practically guaranteed I'd do the opposite. He knew he'd made a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. But I'm serious, Thea. It's a nasty business and you should stay as far from it as possible. It's not like with Carrie. You don't have a personal stake in it."
    "Except that Eve is my friend."
    "So be a friend," he said. "Call her once in a while, see how she's doing. But don't get involved, unless you want to spend a lot more nights like last night."
    "You were the one who insisted I call."
    "That was before I met the family."
    "I thought you'd like Eve."
    "Whatever made you think that? She's unstable, Thea. And dangerous."
    Usually I was inclined to defer to his judgments about people, especially in his area of expertise, but this time he was wrong. He didn't know Eve like I did. "You just saw her at a bad time. She was upset. Her mother had just been killed."
    "I'm not going to argue with you," he said. "Just please consider what I said."
    I stood there in my black running