Read Online Death in a Funhouse Mirror by Kate Flora - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Flora
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shorts and black bra, arms folded over my chest. Where did I find this guy, I wondered, this man who refused to talk to me about things that were very much his business and insisted on meddling in things that weren't. "Go on," I said. "Leave. We don't have anything to talk about, remember?"
His face closed like a slammed door. "I should know better than to waste my time trying to help someone as pigheaded as you," he said. He pulled the door open and shut it loudly behind him.
"I never said I was nice," I yelled at the closed door. Behind me, in the kitchen, the dishwasher slurped happily to itself. I knew if I went in there, everything would be sparkling and tidy. It was one of the things I liked best about him. He wasn't hung up on job descriptions, what women did, what men did. He was just a very straightforward man. I already missed him. I could probably run out now, still catch him, and tell him I was sorry and I was wrong. But I didn't want to. Because I wasn't sure I was sorry and I didn't think I was wrong. And I was in my underwear. So I turned my back on the door and Andre and went back to bed.
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Chapter 5
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I woke up about seven on Sunday night with the phone trilling next to my ear like a demented toad, reached out without even opening my eyes, and muttered the appropriate greeting. "Thea? You sound strange. Are you okay?" Suzanne said.
"Fine. I was asleep, that's all."
"Ah," she said knowingly. "I assume that means Andre has finally surfaced."
"Surfaced long enough to spend Saturday hanging around while I comforted a friend whose mother had been killed. Long enough to mope about hinting that he wanted more from our relationship, but not long enough to talk about it. He beat a hasty and huffy retreat when I suggested dialogue."
"You 're kidding. No nude mud wrestling or anything?" Suzanne finds our obvious physical attraction amusing.
"Oh, we're a very practical pair. First we wrestle, then we argue. And I'm not really being fair. He didn't so much refuse to talk about it as admit that he wasn't ready to talk, partly because he thought he knew what I'd say, and partly because he didn't know what he wanted to ask for."
"Well, you can work it out next weekend. I can't see you guys staying mad at each other for long."
"I don't know if he's coming."
"That's a bummer, isn't it? Well, I bet he shows up." Suzanne is an optimist, a good balance to my pessimism. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend. What happened to her mother?"
"She was stabbed."
"Oh, Thea, not that awful murder that's been all over the papers?"
"Yes."
There was a silence. Then Suzanne said, "So the daughter, Eve, is your old roommate. I've met her, right? Small and dark and very intense?"
"That's Eve," I said.
There was another silence at Suzanne's end. "Look, Thea, it's none of my business, but I've never let that stop me, so I'll say thisâdon't get involved. You can console Eve and be a good friend without getting sucked in. You don't need any more murder or grief in your life."
"You're the second person who's said that."
"Andre being the other, right? Look, I know you hate being told what to do, but this time, he's right. You don't need this."
"Eve didn't choose to have her mother murdered."
"Don't get huffy with me, Thea, I'm just trying to be your friend," Suzanne said, "and now I'm going to change the subject." A very good idea, since I was getting huffy. "I feel really stupid admitting this, but I've got the prewedding jitters. Everything I've eaten all weekend I've thrown up. Every time I look at that beautiful white dress my skin gets clammy. And I can't miss it. It takes up half my bedroom. I was hoping we could go out and eat something wicked and fattening, have a few drinks and I could cry on your shoulder."
"Think you could handle clams?"
"I can't handle anything, so it doesn't make much difference. You weren't thinking of Monty's?"
"Where else? I've been dreaming of clams all
His face closed like a slammed door. "I should know better than to waste my time trying to help someone as pigheaded as you," he said. He pulled the door open and shut it loudly behind him.
"I never said I was nice," I yelled at the closed door. Behind me, in the kitchen, the dishwasher slurped happily to itself. I knew if I went in there, everything would be sparkling and tidy. It was one of the things I liked best about him. He wasn't hung up on job descriptions, what women did, what men did. He was just a very straightforward man. I already missed him. I could probably run out now, still catch him, and tell him I was sorry and I was wrong. But I didn't want to. Because I wasn't sure I was sorry and I didn't think I was wrong. And I was in my underwear. So I turned my back on the door and Andre and went back to bed.
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Chapter 5
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I woke up about seven on Sunday night with the phone trilling next to my ear like a demented toad, reached out without even opening my eyes, and muttered the appropriate greeting. "Thea? You sound strange. Are you okay?" Suzanne said.
"Fine. I was asleep, that's all."
"Ah," she said knowingly. "I assume that means Andre has finally surfaced."
"Surfaced long enough to spend Saturday hanging around while I comforted a friend whose mother had been killed. Long enough to mope about hinting that he wanted more from our relationship, but not long enough to talk about it. He beat a hasty and huffy retreat when I suggested dialogue."
"You 're kidding. No nude mud wrestling or anything?" Suzanne finds our obvious physical attraction amusing.
"Oh, we're a very practical pair. First we wrestle, then we argue. And I'm not really being fair. He didn't so much refuse to talk about it as admit that he wasn't ready to talk, partly because he thought he knew what I'd say, and partly because he didn't know what he wanted to ask for."
"Well, you can work it out next weekend. I can't see you guys staying mad at each other for long."
"I don't know if he's coming."
"That's a bummer, isn't it? Well, I bet he shows up." Suzanne is an optimist, a good balance to my pessimism. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend. What happened to her mother?"
"She was stabbed."
"Oh, Thea, not that awful murder that's been all over the papers?"
"Yes."
There was a silence. Then Suzanne said, "So the daughter, Eve, is your old roommate. I've met her, right? Small and dark and very intense?"
"That's Eve," I said.
There was another silence at Suzanne's end. "Look, Thea, it's none of my business, but I've never let that stop me, so I'll say thisâdon't get involved. You can console Eve and be a good friend without getting sucked in. You don't need any more murder or grief in your life."
"You're the second person who's said that."
"Andre being the other, right? Look, I know you hate being told what to do, but this time, he's right. You don't need this."
"Eve didn't choose to have her mother murdered."
"Don't get huffy with me, Thea, I'm just trying to be your friend," Suzanne said, "and now I'm going to change the subject." A very good idea, since I was getting huffy. "I feel really stupid admitting this, but I've got the prewedding jitters. Everything I've eaten all weekend I've thrown up. Every time I look at that beautiful white dress my skin gets clammy. And I can't miss it. It takes up half my bedroom. I was hoping we could go out and eat something wicked and fattening, have a few drinks and I could cry on your shoulder."
"Think you could handle clams?"
"I can't handle anything, so it doesn't make much difference. You weren't thinking of Monty's?"
"Where else? I've been dreaming of clams all
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