Little Pretty Things

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Authors: Lori Rader-Day
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths
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off the road —”
    “Yvonne, if Billy called you, why are you here?”
    “Oh.” She was staring hard at something over my shoulder.
    The moment had come. The gurney rolled across the uneven ground toward us, the black body bag mercifully strapped down to keep it from bouncing. The matched set of EMTs seemed vaguely familiar, maybe from high school, maybe from the bar. Courtney trailed behind, checking her notes.
    “Wow,” Yvonne said. “That’s some real-life shit, right there.”
    Courtney looked over at us, then followed Maddy’s body into the back of the ambulance. The doors closed and the rig took off across the lot. The flashing lights, which had been rolling the entire time, suddenly cut out. There was no hurry.
    We watched the ambulance until it was out of the lot, across the overpass, and out of sight. Yvonne shuffled her boots against the asphalt in a silence I assumed was meant to be respectful. A part of me wished I’d been asked to accompany Maddy to the hospital, to help smooth her passage in whatever way I could. To escort her. Hadn’t I been at her wing all those races? Someone else would call Maddy’s fiancé. And Gretchen. There was a protocol, but I didn’t fit into it.
    The other part of me, the larger part, was glad to see the patrol vehicles start to leave.
    “Can you give me a ride to Lu’s? She’s got my car.”
    “I gotta get the bar ready,” Yvonne said.
    I watched the toe of her boot draw a line in the dirt.
    “Wait,” I said. “The inn’s closed. At least for a few days.”
    A smile spread across her face by degrees. “They didn’t say a thing about the bar, though, did they? Besides, we can’t close tonight. This is going to be the busiest night the Mid-Night’s ever seen. I mean, sorry. But it is.”
    She was right. They’d come in droves. They’d come early, stay late. The guys who’d so much as caught a glimpse of Maddy last night would be back to hold court over those who hadn’t. I had no idea what time it was, but had a feeling the not-so-happy hour was almost here.
    “I’ll give you a ride home after, if you stay and help me serve,” she said. “And a cut of the tips.”
    I thought of my dark room at home. Then: Maddy, hanging by her own belt. Her gray, almost silver face.
    I would have no use for my bed tonight. With the Mid-Night Inn closed, I also needed the money.
    “Half the tips?” I said.
    “Was going to say sixty-forty.” She threw her head back and sighed. “Fine. But you have to hustle, all right? No wallowing, just because your friend died.”
    There was a wink in her voice that made me feel, for the moment, like myself. I let her pull me to my feet. She eyed my uniform, my black canvas sneakers with the white toes. “I don’t have anything else with me,” I said.
    “It’s good, actually, cute.” Yvonne hooked her arm through mine and led me toward the bar. “And when they show up, go ahead and wallow a little. They’ll love it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    We stocked the cooler to capacity. Yvonne gave me her keys to open the lobby and grab some extra chairs from storage. We turned an empty pitcher into a second tip jar. That was Yvonne’s idea. “They’ll all be wanting you down at their end, see? You make them work for your attention, and I’ll keep the beer flowing.” She chewed on her lip, thinking. “Maybe we’ll send you out to the tables to take orders. Give them all a chance.”
    I carried her words around like a rock in my gut, but I didn’t have time to think about whether or not we should be open, whether or not what we were doing was a good idea. The crowd filed in, filling all the available space, and then called their friends to join them. By six, we were a fire hazard.
    Among the crowd I saw people I knew, people I hadn’t seen in the Mid-Night in a long time, if ever. Dickie showed up. Teeny, layered in additional layers and smelling of old sweat, skulked around the edges of the room, talking to herself. Yvonne kept an

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