Read Online Death Will Extend Your Vacation by Elizabeth Zelvin - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Zelvin
Ads: Link
the city, though, would be a dumb move. The locals must have a chip on their shoulder the size of a million-dollar beach house about the way New York City intruded on their country paradise every summer.
“Did you tell anyone at the time?” he repeated.
Duh. Of course I did. If I hadn’t been so flustered, I would have remembered right away that I’d told Jimmy all about it. The odds were in my favor that he’d remember too. Neither of us had started having blackouts at that age. Not every time we drank, anyhow. Nor had the parochial school girls we knew ever made that kind of offer.
“Jimmy knew,” I babbled, feeling like a candidate for hanging reprieved with the rope around his neck. “You can ask him right now. He’ll tell you. We were just kids, and I really didn’t know her name.”
“What a coincidence,” Wiznewski said. “Did you mention it to Mr. Cullen when you realized who she was?”
Shit! Why hadn’t I? Because I valued Jimmy’s good opinion, that’s why. It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t done what you’d think an innocent person would do in the circumstances. Of course I should have mentioned it to Jimmy. He was my best friend. Oh, man, I hated this self-honesty shit. Digging deeper, I had to admit the real reason I hadn’t told Jimmy was that I knew what he’d say. Even though I hadn’t dreamed the cops could possibly find out, he would have told me to go and tell them.
Chapter Eight
I walked into the kitchen carrying a stack of greasy dinner plates piled high with bones and other detritus of an all-out barbecue. Barbara snatched two fingers out of her mouth and her other hand, dripping, out of a bowl of sticky chocolate oobleck. Stewie bent over the table with a blowtorch, welding crème brûlée. Stephanie and Jeannette peered over his shoulder.
“Hey! Easy does it on the chocolate pudding,” I said.
“Leave her alone!” Stephanie and Jeannette chorused.
“It’s brownies, anyhow.” Barbara glowered. “Don’t critique the process.”
What did I say? Just joshing the way we always did. The others had only beaten me to the kitchen by five minutes, and alliances were already forming.
Cindy stood at the sink.
“Want to put those dishes down?” She smiled at me over her shoulder.
Hands encased in yellow latex gloves, she scrubbed at the crusty residue of baked beans that rimmed a Pyrex dish.
“Want some help?” I asked. “I can dry.”
“That’s okay,” Cindy said. “But if you want to hang out, be my guest.”
“Or you could make yourself useful,” Barbara told my back. She stalked to the refrigerator, opened the door, and gazed at the packed shelves.
“Done!” Stewie threw up his hands like a rodeo cowboy who’s just roped the calf. He thrust two exquisite crème brûlées into my hands. The fluted cups were still warm. “Here, Mary, take these in.”
“Smile when you say that, buster.”
When I came back into the kitchen, Barbara had grabbed a dish towel and bonded with Cindy. Stewie, Jeannette, and Stephanie had taken the rest of the crème brûlées to the table and hadn’t come back.
“First year in a clean and sober house,” Cindy said, evidently answering a question from Barbara. She turned the hot water on full and sloshed a big bowl of soapsuds from side to side. “I know Karen from the program. Last summer I didn’t get much vacation. The summer before that I was getting clean and sober. And before that, well, I was a bit of a party girl. What about you?”
“I wish I’d ever been a party girl,” Barbara said. “I always sat on the good girl side of the aisle.”
Cindy laughed. “I guess you’d call me a bad girl. Still, I’ve enabled my share of alcoholics.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got Jimmy and Bruce.”
“Two guys sounds like a party to me.”
“Not that much of a party,” Barbara disclaimed. “Jimmy and I have been together forever. Bruce is kind of a fun add-on.”
“Gee, thanks,” I chipped in. “Don’t mind
“Did you tell anyone at the time?” he repeated.
Duh. Of course I did. If I hadn’t been so flustered, I would have remembered right away that I’d told Jimmy all about it. The odds were in my favor that he’d remember too. Neither of us had started having blackouts at that age. Not every time we drank, anyhow. Nor had the parochial school girls we knew ever made that kind of offer.
“Jimmy knew,” I babbled, feeling like a candidate for hanging reprieved with the rope around his neck. “You can ask him right now. He’ll tell you. We were just kids, and I really didn’t know her name.”
“What a coincidence,” Wiznewski said. “Did you mention it to Mr. Cullen when you realized who she was?”
Shit! Why hadn’t I? Because I valued Jimmy’s good opinion, that’s why. It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t done what you’d think an innocent person would do in the circumstances. Of course I should have mentioned it to Jimmy. He was my best friend. Oh, man, I hated this self-honesty shit. Digging deeper, I had to admit the real reason I hadn’t told Jimmy was that I knew what he’d say. Even though I hadn’t dreamed the cops could possibly find out, he would have told me to go and tell them.
Chapter Eight
I walked into the kitchen carrying a stack of greasy dinner plates piled high with bones and other detritus of an all-out barbecue. Barbara snatched two fingers out of her mouth and her other hand, dripping, out of a bowl of sticky chocolate oobleck. Stewie bent over the table with a blowtorch, welding crème brûlée. Stephanie and Jeannette peered over his shoulder.
“Hey! Easy does it on the chocolate pudding,” I said.
“Leave her alone!” Stephanie and Jeannette chorused.
“It’s brownies, anyhow.” Barbara glowered. “Don’t critique the process.”
What did I say? Just joshing the way we always did. The others had only beaten me to the kitchen by five minutes, and alliances were already forming.
Cindy stood at the sink.
“Want to put those dishes down?” She smiled at me over her shoulder.
Hands encased in yellow latex gloves, she scrubbed at the crusty residue of baked beans that rimmed a Pyrex dish.
“Want some help?” I asked. “I can dry.”
“That’s okay,” Cindy said. “But if you want to hang out, be my guest.”
“Or you could make yourself useful,” Barbara told my back. She stalked to the refrigerator, opened the door, and gazed at the packed shelves.
“Done!” Stewie threw up his hands like a rodeo cowboy who’s just roped the calf. He thrust two exquisite crème brûlées into my hands. The fluted cups were still warm. “Here, Mary, take these in.”
“Smile when you say that, buster.”
When I came back into the kitchen, Barbara had grabbed a dish towel and bonded with Cindy. Stewie, Jeannette, and Stephanie had taken the rest of the crème brûlées to the table and hadn’t come back.
“First year in a clean and sober house,” Cindy said, evidently answering a question from Barbara. She turned the hot water on full and sloshed a big bowl of soapsuds from side to side. “I know Karen from the program. Last summer I didn’t get much vacation. The summer before that I was getting clean and sober. And before that, well, I was a bit of a party girl. What about you?”
“I wish I’d ever been a party girl,” Barbara said. “I always sat on the good girl side of the aisle.”
Cindy laughed. “I guess you’d call me a bad girl. Still, I’ve enabled my share of alcoholics.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got Jimmy and Bruce.”
“Two guys sounds like a party to me.”
“Not that much of a party,” Barbara disclaimed. “Jimmy and I have been together forever. Bruce is kind of a fun add-on.”
“Gee, thanks,” I chipped in. “Don’t mind
Similar Books
