Drop Dead Gorgeous

  He started to turn away.

  “Sean!”

  She reached out to stop him; he had already begun to move, and though she had intended to close her fingers around his arm, she caught him right below the belt line instead. He stopped, swinging back, pure surprise in his eyes.

  She hadn’t let go quite quickly enough to avoid feeling the instant growth of his erection. Her mouth went dry. He was staring at her with a brow arched high.

  “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry—” she stuttered. She felt absurd, younger, and more uncertain than she had been in high school, and it was just so foolish. “I think we should make love,” she told him flippantly.

  “Here?” he inquired politely, a glance indicating Michael and the kids.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, laughing.

  “Where? When?”

  “Somewhere… sometime.”

  He inclined his head slightly. “You got it,” he told her casually. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to swim away from you right now.”

  Sean took a long time to come in. Lori and the kids were already dried off and dressed and ready to go into the research buildings to see the work going on with rays.

  Sean made no further reference to sex with her, but it hung between them all day.

  Andrew Kelly arrived first at the Irish pub in the Grove, where Brad Jackson had asked him to come join him for a late lunch.

  Andrew ordered a beer and nursed it while he waited for Brad to arrive. His friend came in about ten minutes later, greeting the bartender and a few friends at the bar. He saw Andrew at the booth in the back and headed toward him.

  “I’m glad you could come.”

  “No problem. What’s up?” Andrew grinned. Brad had been extremely successful of late, so he was teasing when he said, “Need a job? A little extra cash? Tina asked for a Maserati already?”

  “No, but that wouldn’t matter. Her mother asked for the moon when we divorced.”

  “From what I hear, Jan does well enough with her real estate.”

  “She does. And I’m halfway kidding. The divorce was over a long time ago. We get along well.”

  “Still planning a party?”

  “Jan’s still planning a party.”

  “At the place that’s half your house?”

  Brad shrugged, threading his fingers through his still blond hair to smooth it back. Brad had always dressed immaculately—preparing for the business world long before he had become an attorney. In school even his jeans, Calvin Klein boxers, and T-shirts had been pressed.

  “I don’t think her idea was so bad. Do you?” Brad asked defensively.

  Andrew shrugged. “No, it was a good idea. She invited my folks, you know.”

  “I think she invited everyone living.”

  “It’s probably not quite that bad. And maybe she’s right—I mean, family and friends drift apart. You get together for a funeral and wonder what happened to all the years.”

  “Ellie’s funeral was tough, huh?”

  Andrew nodded glumly, picking up his beer. “Yep.”

  “Susan was sure as hell upset.”

  “Yeah, I felt bad for poor Sue.”

  “Remember that last year… you were in college, but you and Sue still managed to be pretty hot and heavy back then,” Brad said.

  “Sue was a hot little ticket,” Andrew agreed.

  “What happened?” Brad asked.

  Andrew shrugged. “Who knows? I think that after what happened to Mandy… I don’t know.”

  Brad narrowed his eyes. “I do. We all closed ranks. It would have been bad enough if we’d just buried Mandy, but the cops pointed their fingers at Sean, and we all looked the other way.”

  Andrew studied his beer. “Yeah, maybe. And then we all figured we’d been assholes—even if we’d been encouraged to be assholes by our folks—so we kind of closed off against each other. Each family to itself, survival of the fittest!”

  “There were a lot of casualities there. Mandy. Then the Olins dying in a crash. That Jeff is sane and walking and talking—and a well-respected attorney to boot—is amazing.”

  “Sean and Michael came out of it okay,” Andrew said.

  “Sean Black could always fall into a pile of shit and come out smelling like a rose,” Brad said.

  Andrew arched a brow. “Sounds like there’s still a rivalry going there.”

  “There never was a rivalry. We came from different places, and we were going different ways. And you came out of it all okay, Jan and I are fine, your cousin Josh happily lives a life of pure decadence, and Sue did all right for herself. Ricky Garcia and Ted Neeson became cops—and though lawyers are considered sharks and cops are often considered pigs, both are respectable ways to make a living,” Brad pointed out.

  “So none of us is living under a bridge. You and Jan divorced, Lori rushed into marriage with a sick guy she couldn’t have loved who kicked the bucket right away. Ellie was divorced, twice, I think, and Sue does well in business, but she’s divorced. The rest of us happy decadent bachelors—that we appear to be—are incapable of maintaining any kind of a meaningful and long-term relationship.”

  “Damn, I didn’t know we were so miserable,” Brad murmured.

  “I didn’t say we were miserable. Just screwed up.”

  “We’re from the generation that gave new meaning to the term dysfunctional,” Brad said impatiently. “But maybe we are getting older and better. Instead of worrying so much about ourselves, we can start looking after each other as friends again. I know that Sue is glad we’re here. She’s really scared.”

  “Why?” Andrew asked.

  “Why? What happened is awful—”

  “Awful, but random. Ellie ran into a killer. For Sue to run into the same person…”

  “Don’t you find it just a little bit scary?” Brad asked.

  “Well, yes, of course, but…”

  Brad leaned forward suddenly. “What if Sean Black did kill Mandy in a rage?” Andrew felt uneasy, having had that same thought himself.

  “What if?” Brad repeated. “And he’s always had a thing on Lori. I think she was really pining after him when we were dating… that was just great on my ego, I can tell you!”

  “You want me to tell my sister she can’t see Sean Black?” Andrew inquired.

  Brad sat back. “No, no, of course not… it’s just… it’s weird. That’s all.”

  Weird. That it was, Andrew thought. He suddenly felt a strange impatience to be away from Brad. He looked at his watch. Nearly three.

  “We need to order. I’ve got—things to do this afternoon. And hell, I almost forgot. What’s up? You invited me to lunch,” Andrew reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know,” Brad said. He was hedging, twirling his knife. Andrew found his behavior peculiar. Brad was never at a loss for words. In Lori’s grade he and Sean had been the top guys, Brad the star quarterback, Sean the running back. They’d taken turns getting top honors in both sports and academics. Brad had always been smooth, Sean a little rougher around the edges. In a debate, Andrew decided, he’d back Brad. Left in the wild with one person to help him survive, he’d opt for Sean. He liked Brad, and despite what Brad had just said, he thought that Lori still liked him, too, but then, he was sure that he knew things that Brad didn’t. He’d been curious to see what the relationship might be when Lori came back, but she had chosen to cool things years ago—despite everything that happened—and she appeared not just content but pleased that Brad and Jan seemed to have the best—possibly hottest—divorce in history.

  “I’ve got a really weird request for you,” Brad said, blue eyes serious on Andrew’s, then flicking away as if he feared he might be overheard.

  “Shoot.”

  “Really weird.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I need a woman.”

  Andrew stared at him, then burst into laughter. “Brad, the last thing you need is a woman. Women practically throw themselves at you. What’s not to like? If
not rich, you’re in damned good financial position. Young, great car—you have all your hair. I don’t mean to sound immodest, but I can say that I don’t do badly myself; however, I’m damned certain you can get your own dates.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Andrew thought quickly, frowning. “What, you need a cleaning woman or something?”

  “No!” Brad sounded as if he were struggling. He exhaled. “Look, I’m honestly thinking about remarrying Jan—”

  “What?” Andrew demanded, baffled. He lifted his hands. “Well, great, more power to you, but don’t you kind of have the best of both worlds right now? She’s there whenever she wants you, but she can’t always get her hands in your pockets anymore—”

  “Andrew, she’s not a particularly greedy woman—”

  “That’s not what you said when you divorced.”

  “We married way too young, and we were both full of ourselves—jealous, and nasty, and furious most of the time.”

  “Right. And it’s not going to happen again?” Andrew asked skeptically.

  “That’s not the point here. Before I do anything…” He broke off. “Andrew, dammit, I want to hire someone.”

  “A prostitute?”

  “Shh!”

  “Seriously?” He looked at Brad. That was exactly what Brad had meant. He lifted his hand. “Hey buddy, you’ve lived in these here parts as long as I have. You know where they are—”

  “I don’t want someone off the street, someone—”

  “Real?” Andrew said dryly.

  “I’m looking for a high-priced call girl.”

  Andrew drained his beer. It seemed to burn all the way down his gullet.

  He made porno movies. It was a living. It was a way to do the films he really wanted to do.

  Yeah, he made porno flicks, the down and dirty kind, he knew the language, the people, the game. Yet even in the midst of nude, slick, oiled “actors,” he had never felt as suddenly soul-dirty as he did now.

  Brad seemed to think that he was a pimp.

  Brad, who’d become ridiculously reticent, considering some of the things they had discussed over the years, was now talking nonstop, explaining what he wanted.

  Personally, he didn’t think that Brad could really talk Jan into it. But then, what the hell, what did he really know about women?

  And maybe he did know the right person for the job. Someone who could consider herself a sex therapist, a marriage counselor, rather than a whore. Someone who liked money, was clean as a whistle, and perfect for the job.

  “I know it’s weird, but it’s just something like an itch I want to scratch, can you help me?” Brad asked.

  An itch.

  Yeah.

  “Sure,” Andrew said. “I think I’ve got just the right person.”

  “Clean—” Brad began.

  “Oh, yeah. Lily-white.”

  Brad looked as pleased as a well-fed cat.

  Andrew felt sick. If he didn’t take any money, was he still a slimy pimp?

  He could do it. Hell, he’d lived two lives for a very long time. The PBS nature series specialist.

  And the XXX king.

  Sure. What the hell. He’d done enough other things.

  11

  Since the new bookstore had come in nearby, Susan had been keeping her shop on the Mile open late. She was lucky to employ four excellent managers, two for each store, but since Eric Trainor, her evening manager, was on vacation, she was closing up shop herself. She usually stayed open until ten, right about when the bookstore closed, but since Ellie’s terrible death, she had started to close the doors at nine-thirty. If she closed too early, someone might complain, and the city or the merchants’ association would be down her throat. But since she didn’t have any customers in the shop at the moment…

  She started switching off her machinery. She was meticulously clean, which was something that made her Coffee, Tea, and Me shops especially popular—not to mention the fact that she did make some of the best coffee-specialty drinks in the business, her own recipes. As she wiped down the counter, the phone rang.

  “Coffee, Tea, and Me. Susan speaking, may I help you?”

  “Sue.”

  “Yes?” She recognized the voice but couldn’t place it.

  “Hi. I’m just calling to check in on you.” Puzzled, she smiled to herself. That's really nice, but who the hell are you? “It’s Brad.”

  “Brad?”

  “How quickly we forget. Brad Jackson.”

  “Oh, Brad, I’m sorry. Thanks for calling, I’m fine, you’re being really sweet.”

  “You’re coming to Jan’s party tomorrow night, right?”

  “You bet. My new college student is going to close for me.”

  “Close for you—are you alone in there?”

  “Yes, but there’s really a lot of traffic— foot traffic and cars on the road—thanks to the theater and the bookstore. There are people all around.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” She looked outside. She didn’t see a single car, or a lone soul walking anywhere.

  “Will the student be all right?”

  “He’ll be just fine. He’s a linebacker at the University of Miami, working for me because his mother is a friend and he needs to make what money he can on a part-time basis.”

  “Well, good. But you be careful. And listen, bad things kind of make us all think, you know? If you need anything, feel free to give me a call.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow night.”

  “You bet.”

  She hung up. As she did so, she decided the hell with the time. She was locking up.

  But even as she headed toward the door to close it, she swore softly, seeing a man approaching it. The door opened and she smiled, exhaling on a sigh of relief. “Andrew! Andrew Kelly.”

  “Hi, Sue. How’s it going?”

  She stared at him, shaking her head. “You’ll never guess who was just on the phone.”

  “Who?”

  “Brad.”

  “Jackson.”

  “The same.”

  Andrew flushed. “Checking up on you?”

  “Yes.” She stared at him a moment, then sighed. “You’re doing the same, huh?”

  “No, no, I just happened to be in the—”

  “You liar.”

  “I do live near here—”

  “And I’ll bet you haven’t actually been on the Mile in a good ten years.”

  He flushed. “Not true. I checked out the bookstore when it opened.”

  “Want a cup of coffee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure. What kind?”

  “Um… I don’t know. The coffee kind.”

  She laughed. “French roast, rich and hearty, it will keep you up all night.”

  He sat at the spotless counter. She poured him coffee. “Thanks, Sue.”

  “No, thank you. You are checking up on me, and I appreciate it.”

  He shrugged and smiled awkwardly. Sue wondered what had happened between them. They’d had a good thing going once upon a time. But after Mandy had died…

  “You were the first love of my life, you know,” he told her.

  “I was your first sex,” she corrected.

  “No, Kitty Armstrong was my first, Sally Oakley was my second. I should have been pretty good by the time I got to you,” he said, laughing.

  “You were,” she told him. “You were just fine. Maybe too good. I expected other guys to live up to you.”

  “Ah, Sue…”

  “Hey, it’s all right, don’t get maudlin. I’m grateful to have friends right now. I—” She broke off, looking out the glass panes that separated the shop from the street. “Andrew, someone just walked by… kind of furtively.”

  He got up right away, sharp, attentive, and strode toward the door.

  “Andrew, wait! Don’t go off half-cocked like that! People have guns these days—”

  But her words went u
nheeded. He flung the door open.

  “My God!” she heard him exclaim.

  The day should have been great. Brendan and Tina had enjoyed every aspect of Michael’s tour, and Brendan had assured Michael that he was going to major in marine biology. Tina became convinced that she was destined to be either a vet or an animal behaviorist.

  At five, they had met Jan at Marker 88. The food was delicious, all of them opting for fresh fish prepared in different ways, and sharing an array of appetizers that were excellent. Lori didn’t have to do much to keep the conversation going because the kids spent the entire dinner telling Jan about their day, making Michael repeat his thorough explanations of various aspects of sea life. Jan was as comfortable and natural as could be with both Sean and Michael, and Lori found herself thinking that Jan was their real friend— she believed in Sean and accepted Michael. And she had never betrayed Sean in any way. The only one who noticed that Lori was quiet was Sean, and he didn’t say anything. He just watched her with enigmatic eyes, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

  While the adults indulged in after-dinner coffees, the kids went out to watch the sunset from the dock. Jan talked about her party with enthusiasm, then remarked that she was still worried about Susan, who had seemed so upset.

  “I guess we’re all going to be staying out of the clubs for a while now,” she said.

  Sean shrugged. “I imagine that women will be safe enough if they stay together—in a crowd of at least three.”

  “How can you be certain about that?” Lori demanded. “What if someone has a gun? You can control half a dozen people with a gun!”

  He shook his head. “This killer doesn’t use a gun. He uses the element of surprise and then…”

  “Then what?” Jan demanded.

  “A knife,” Sean said quietly.

  “How do you know?” Jan asked dismayed. “I mean, how can you know just exactly—”

  “Because I was at the autopsy,” Sean said briefly.

  “Oh,” Jan said, her mouth forming a circle.

  Lori studied him. “Why?” she asked him. “Because of Ricky, because of your books?”

  He shrugged. “Well, that, and—”