Read Online Nothing to Fear But Ferrets by Linda O. Johnston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
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brilliant red luxury sedan. As she pulled in, I waved.
She stopped. Her window rolled down.
So did her tears. I’d never seen the perky brunette with perfect makeup so upset. “Oh, Kendra,” she sobbed, laying her head down on her steering wheel.
Only she hadn’t parked yet, and the car crawled forward, not to the right, toward the garage, but straight toward the parking space beside it.
“Be careful, Charlotte,” I called to her. I cringed as her auto approached the rear bumper of my Beamer. “Charlotte!” I shouted. “Stop your car!”
She did, maybe an inch away from stoving in my poor Beamer’s butt.
Giving Lexie a little tug to tell her to follow, I hurried back up the drive toward her stopped car.
The driver’s door stayed shut.
As I looked in, I beheld Charlotte, head still down, crying uncontrollably.
“Sorry, Lexie,” I murmured. “Looks like our walk will have to wait until later.” To Charlotte I said, “Let’s get you into the house, okay? Then you can tell me all about what’s wrong.”
As if I couldn’t guess.
Chapter Nine
TO MY SURPRISE, Charlotte invited herself upstairs. My usually high-flying tenant had never before seemed interested in visiting my modest second-story flat. All our landlord-tenant interaction had been in my much-missed mansion or on its grandly maintained grounds.
She even led the way, Lexie and I bringing up the rear as we all mounted the garage-side steps. I held back to make sure that her rear, sashaying from side to side as she scaled the steps, stayed far from my face. I had to catch up and squeeze around her, though, to unlock the door.
My little kitchen would have fit into one corner of my much more magnificent culinary environment in the main house, but it was still where I did most of my meager entertaining. I showed Charlotte to one of the chairs at my round table, and sighing, she sank into it, resting her small chin on trembling hands. Her perfume began to permeate my apartment, and I made a mental note to open some windows later.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. “I’ve water, apple juice, diet soft drinks, red wine—a nice Bordeaux, I believe—amber beer or—”
“Rum and cola, if you have it,” she ordered. “Mostly rum.”
I turned before she could see how my brows reached for my hairline. I considered joining her in something strong. I had a feeling that whatever she was about to spill to me wouldn’t be easy to imbibe. I settled on a beer.
A little later, Lexie at my feet, I sat across from Charlotte at the table, watching her swig her strong rum concoction as if she were an overheated runner just handed a bottle of water. I sipped my Sam Adams from a mug to brace myself, then began, “Tell me why you’re so upset, Charlotte—though of course I can guess. I’m sorry about your friend Chad. It must have been a shock to learn what happened. Especially because it was in the house where you’re living.” I’d developed tremendous tact as a litigator. The idea was to start the wheel turning with what I intended to learn, then let her respond with her own spin on it.
“I feel terrible that he’s dead, even though he wasn’t my friend anymore,” she said, sounding surprisingly sad after what I’d witnessed the other night.
“Chad crashed your party,” I said to Charlotte, “so I wondered how close you were. Especially since you and Yul didn’t welcome him with open arms. But I heard that Chad and you were an item not long ago.”
“Only in front of the cameras,” she shot back, the glare from her blue eyes so pointed that I felt the stab in my cheek.
“But from what I gathered, he was the last guy standing on a show where you had to choose the supposed love of your life.”
“Well, yes.” She shrugged a slender shoulder beneath a snug, white shirt whose hem barely met the top of her gray sweatpants. Then she took a good stiff swig of her drink.
“Were you just acting for the camera?” I
She stopped. Her window rolled down.
So did her tears. I’d never seen the perky brunette with perfect makeup so upset. “Oh, Kendra,” she sobbed, laying her head down on her steering wheel.
Only she hadn’t parked yet, and the car crawled forward, not to the right, toward the garage, but straight toward the parking space beside it.
“Be careful, Charlotte,” I called to her. I cringed as her auto approached the rear bumper of my Beamer. “Charlotte!” I shouted. “Stop your car!”
She did, maybe an inch away from stoving in my poor Beamer’s butt.
Giving Lexie a little tug to tell her to follow, I hurried back up the drive toward her stopped car.
The driver’s door stayed shut.
As I looked in, I beheld Charlotte, head still down, crying uncontrollably.
“Sorry, Lexie,” I murmured. “Looks like our walk will have to wait until later.” To Charlotte I said, “Let’s get you into the house, okay? Then you can tell me all about what’s wrong.”
As if I couldn’t guess.
Chapter Nine
TO MY SURPRISE, Charlotte invited herself upstairs. My usually high-flying tenant had never before seemed interested in visiting my modest second-story flat. All our landlord-tenant interaction had been in my much-missed mansion or on its grandly maintained grounds.
She even led the way, Lexie and I bringing up the rear as we all mounted the garage-side steps. I held back to make sure that her rear, sashaying from side to side as she scaled the steps, stayed far from my face. I had to catch up and squeeze around her, though, to unlock the door.
My little kitchen would have fit into one corner of my much more magnificent culinary environment in the main house, but it was still where I did most of my meager entertaining. I showed Charlotte to one of the chairs at my round table, and sighing, she sank into it, resting her small chin on trembling hands. Her perfume began to permeate my apartment, and I made a mental note to open some windows later.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. “I’ve water, apple juice, diet soft drinks, red wine—a nice Bordeaux, I believe—amber beer or—”
“Rum and cola, if you have it,” she ordered. “Mostly rum.”
I turned before she could see how my brows reached for my hairline. I considered joining her in something strong. I had a feeling that whatever she was about to spill to me wouldn’t be easy to imbibe. I settled on a beer.
A little later, Lexie at my feet, I sat across from Charlotte at the table, watching her swig her strong rum concoction as if she were an overheated runner just handed a bottle of water. I sipped my Sam Adams from a mug to brace myself, then began, “Tell me why you’re so upset, Charlotte—though of course I can guess. I’m sorry about your friend Chad. It must have been a shock to learn what happened. Especially because it was in the house where you’re living.” I’d developed tremendous tact as a litigator. The idea was to start the wheel turning with what I intended to learn, then let her respond with her own spin on it.
“I feel terrible that he’s dead, even though he wasn’t my friend anymore,” she said, sounding surprisingly sad after what I’d witnessed the other night.
“Chad crashed your party,” I said to Charlotte, “so I wondered how close you were. Especially since you and Yul didn’t welcome him with open arms. But I heard that Chad and you were an item not long ago.”
“Only in front of the cameras,” she shot back, the glare from her blue eyes so pointed that I felt the stab in my cheek.
“But from what I gathered, he was the last guy standing on a show where you had to choose the supposed love of your life.”
“Well, yes.” She shrugged a slender shoulder beneath a snug, white shirt whose hem barely met the top of her gray sweatpants. Then she took a good stiff swig of her drink.
“Were you just acting for the camera?” I
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