The Groaning Board

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Authors: Annette Meyers
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drizzle misted over everything. She bought apples and one §reen and
one yellow zucchini squash. The woman behind ^er kept pushing at her. Furious,
she spun around.
    “How about a cup of hot cider,
darlin’?” Laura Lee grinned at her.
    “You owe me. I accept. I mean, what
else can I say to someone with such beautiful breasts?”
    “Ouch,” Laura Lee said. “He is a
dreadful man, isn’t he?”
    “I’ve known worse, but I didn’t go
into business with them.”
    “Darlin’, you have to understand that
it’s the deal that’s important. It’s goin’ to make everyone a ton of mon,
especially Micklynn. And may I remind you that you are in business with one of
the worst... so get down off your high horse.”
    “Forget the hot cider, Laura Lee. I
feel a weak hungry coming on fast. Let’s go to the Columbus Bakery, get a
cappuccino, and gorge.” Laura Lee was right, of course. Smith was probably no
better than Hem Barron. And Wetzon could readily see Smith working behind her
back to sell out their company exactly as Hem and A.T. were doing to Micklynn.
    At the Columbus Bakery, they made
their choices, then took their plates to a small table.
    “Come on, darlin’, it’s time to lift
yourself out of this funk you’re in.” Laura Lee swathed butter on her cranberry
corn muffin.
    “Business is lousy, Laura Lee, and
Smith just keeps spending more money on expansion and saying it’s a business
deduction.”
    “But that’s not it, is it?” Her
friend gave her a knowing look.
    “You’re right. That’s not it. An old
girlfriend of Silvestri’s died under mysterious circumstances.”
    “Ah,” Laura Lee said.
    “He says it was over a long time ago,
but—”
    “Did somebody kill her?”
    “They don’t know yet. He’s all
wrapped up in the easel and not talking very much.”
    “Uh-oh, and he’s not loquacious on
his good days.”
    “I hope the autopsy says it was an
accident; otherwise, he’s going to obsess about finding her murderer.” Wetzon
cut her sticky bun in four pieces and scarfed one wedge down.
    “You know, it’s always nice to have
another man hangin’ around worshippin’ you, takin’ you out for nice lunches and
dinners.”
    “Laura Lee!”
    “I’m not sayin’ have two lovers,
Wetzon. Though for some that could be very interestin’.” Her eyes were filled
with mirth. “I’m just sayin’ that there are some men who would love to hang out
in your radius.”
    “Your radius, Laura Lee, not mine.”
Then she smiled. “You’ve thought of someone,” Laura Lee said gleefully. “I ran
into him in the Park the other day, and I got the strangest feeling that he was
hitting on me.”
    “Tell me who, darlin’. Isn’t this
delicious?” She wasn’t talking about the food.
    “Bill Veeder.”
    “Bill Veeder. Now there’s an
interestin’ man. He and his wife have a salon at their palacial apartment every
couple of months.”
    “His wife?”
    “ Well, that’s
another story. She’s had a stroke or somethin’ and sits in a wheelchair in
front of the fireplace like the Ice queen, not even flickerin’ an eye, while
her nurse sees to her and Bill keeps bringin’ people over to meet her. She
can’t talk, can’t walk, and I’m not sure that she understands anythin’ goin’ on
around her.”
    “ Then I’m
wrong. He seems like the perfect husband.“
    “ Seems is the operative word
here, darlin’.” Laura Lee Patted Wetzon’s hand with buttery fingers. “There is
no such thing as the perfect husband,” she said.

Chapter Fourteen

     
     
     
    Max handed
Wetzon a suspect sheet. “His name is Carl Grant. He has his own TV show on CNN, and he’s
got a radio call-in show. He wants a million dollars upfront. He kept saying I
should know who he is. He wants someone to get back to him who does.”
    “And I suppose,” Smith said, “that he
does two million in gross.”
    Stockbrokers worked on commission
based on their gross production. Their earnings ran according to the

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