Broke: (5 page)

They
'
d separated
for awhile during the day, then Abe, aka Grunt, had let them in the back door and they
'
d
all three
dr
u
nk
rotgut liquor
until Dewey passed out. He didn
'
t remember going upstairs and getting into bed, but he didn
'
t think that was surprising, or even unusual.

"
It
'
s been a long time since my last toot. Can
'
t hold my liquor, seems like. I
'
ll get the hang of it again pretty soon, if I get outta here.
"

Immy wondered if it would be a good idea for him to be out of jail.

***

It was a good thing
this
was Saturday. Immy wouldn't have been able to sit still to concentrate at work. She wished she were there
so she could use
the computer, though. The library was open Saturday morning, so she decided to research her cousin there.
The timing couldn't be better.
She was studying to be a PI.
The
online
course she was being tested on next week was called Missing Persons.
She'd study for the test and find her cousin at the same time.
She grabbed her course book and walked to the library.

A brisk wind whipped a tumbleweed down the middle of Second
Street, the main thoroughfare of Saltlick
, past the blinking yellow light, the only traffic light in town, and out to the rangeland that surrounded the small town.
Saltlick was a town whose time had come and gone
with the oil boom
, but it was full of tough people who didn't give up easily.

The rather grand stone building that housed the library stood next to what had been Huey's Hash when
Uncle Huey
was alive. It
was
now
occupied by The Tomato Garden, a franchise restaurant run by
Frankie Laramie
.
Saltlickians were surprised it was still open, given Frankie's aversion to work.

Immy missed the small pot of parsley that used to sit in the window when her family worked there.
She
had waited tables for her Uncle Huey until his death.

She
mounted the stone steps and entered the serene, qui
e
t space of the library
.
Cornelia Puffin, the librarian
who
reign
ed
over the entrance from her high counter
,
kept her beady eyes on Immy. Even with Ms. Puffin peering at her over wire-rim glasses, Immy felt comfortable here
, maybe because her own mother had been the librarian during much of her childhood
and she'd spent many happy hours curled up in a chair, reading mysteries
. She inhaled the
fusty
, heady scent of old books and headed for the two computers.

She liked
to use
the computer close
r
to the front window so she could keep track of who was going where. But today she got so absorbed in her search for Dwight Junior, she
w
ouldn't have
noticed
if a cowboy drove a herd of cattle
along
the street.

Thumbing through
t
he
text
book
for her online course
, she
came to the chapter for this week. It was only the second week of the
current
course and the first week had been introductory. Immy was disappointed to see the concentration
of the course in Missing Persons
was on finding dead people. How hard could that be? They probably mostly stayed in one place for years at a time, maybe forever. They wouldn't be trying to cover their tracks or evade detection.

Sighing, she opened the screen to the entry page for the Stangford Institute of Higher Learning. Pausing to admire the logo--the super fancy S of Stangford was what had convinced her that this was a trustworthy institute--she typed her ID and password.

She couldn't progress to the next subject online
until she passed the test of locating dead p
eo
ple.
She'd never tried to skip ahead in her courses, had
always
plowed through them page by page, absorbing the fascinating material on
C
rime
S
cene
I
nvestigations,
U
sing the
I
nternet, and
I
nterrogation
T
echniques. So far, she'd gotten A pluses on every test. It would be best if she stuck to the material and read it in order, but she had to know how to find
people who were
alive. So she flipped pages in the course book until she came to that section. After a few paragraphs, though, she
discovered that the best resources for finding
live
people cost money.
She also found that it would have been better had she had
her cousin's
birth date and place of birth. Uncle Dewey had said his son was twelve when he'd last seen him. H
e'
d said it was about twenty years ago. So he would be thirty-two now? An older cousin
.

With a start, Immy realized she'd been twelve when she lost her dad, too. They already had something in common besides DNA, and they'd never met. In fact, Junior still didn't know of her existence.

She twisted a strand of her straigh
t
hair around a finger, w
ondering how she could find a person when all she had was a name--a name that may have been changed. Maybe it would be easier for
her cousin
to find her.

The tinkling of her cell phone startled her. She'd forgotten to turn it off. Ms. Puffin's throat clearing could be easily heard over the cell phone. Immy grabbed it and ran to the sidewalk outside to answer the call, leaving her purse and book inside.

"Yes?" She didn't recognize the number.

"Are you all right? You sound out of breath."

"I'm fine. I just had to run outdoors to talk." Where had she heard that voice? "Who is this?"

"I'm hurt you don't remember me. It's Vance.
"

"Oh, Vance. Yes." Oh yes. Vance Valentin, the Greek god of real estate agents.

"I have a few more questions for you about the house. When we were there it wasn't a good time to bring them up."

"It wasn't a good time at all, Vance. There was that dead body in the bathtub."

"Uh, yes, there was. Could you possibly meet me at the house?"

"What for? I already signed everything." She even had the keys and was planning on moving some things over that
weekend
.

"
Yes, I know." Did he sound annoyed? "But I think you need to give more thought to the furnishings.
"

She remembered his interest in one of the tables and the
big
chandelier. "I don't think I'll get rid of anything for awhile, Vance. I have to see what I'll need."

He puffed out a breath in her ear. "
I don't think you realize what you have there. I can help you to, um, get some of the things appraised if you'd like.
"

"
Maybe.
I
'll
give you a call
about it
."

There was a brief pause. Then Vance said, "Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

Was he just pretending to be interested in her furniture? Did he really want to date her? She'd never slept with anyone as gorgeous as Vance. What would that be like? Would she be able to take her eyes off him to concentrate on having sex? Or maybe she'd be able to do it while she was watching him. They'd have to stick to missionary position.

"Immy? Are you there?"

"I'm here, Vance. Yes, dinner would be lovely."

He said he'd pick her up in Saltlick at
seven.

Immy floated back up the stone steps
and in
to the library.

Chapter Six

It was easy for Immy to tell Hortense she didn't want supper, but not
so
easy to explain why not. Hortense didn't understand people who didn't want to eat
, so
Immy invented a stomach virus.

Immy sat in her room and worried while Hortense and Drew ate chicken and dumplings.
They sure smelled good. Her saliva kicked up a little.
What if Ralph came by? She liked Ralph. She really, really liked Ralph.
H
is kisses drove her wild and they'd had some heated make
-
out sessions. But how could she pass up a chance with Vance? He was swoon-worthy. She rocked back and forth on the bed
, moaning softly
. She didn't want to hurt Ralph's feelings. But she just had to see what Vance would be like.

She called Vance
on her cell phone
and told him to pick her up in front of the bank. It was closed
this time of night
, so m
aybe no one in Saltlick would see her go off with him.
She put on her best pair of jeans and a clean blouse, one of her lowest cut, soft ones.

"Mother," she said, emerging from the bedroom. "I'm still feeling kind of sick and I think I'll go for a long walk."

"The hour is approaching seven, Imogene. It's rather dark out."

"I'll be fine."

"
Your apparel is out of the ordinary for a Saltlick perambulation.
Should I telephone Ralph and tell him to accompany you?"

"No! I mean, that won't be necessary. I need to be alone. I might, uh, I might throw up and I don't want Ralph to see that." She did almost feel like throwing up at the thought of Ralph seeing her with Vance. "Lo
ng walk," she said,
dashing
out of the trailer
. "A really long one. Don't wait up."

She didn't think anyone saw her
on her short walk to the bank, but she hurried anyway. No one was around when she
climb
ed
into Vance's Mini Cooper. "This isn't the car you used before," she said.

"I have to drive the Beemer to project the
proper
image when I'm showing properties to clients
.
We all drive either a Mercedes or a BMW. But t
his is my little baby." He patted the dashboard
.
"I drive this off hours. For pleasure." He shot her a smile.

Those dimples! Her insides melted. "It's very...cute."

"Isn't it?" Another smile, but this one directed at the car.

When Vance pulled up in front of
Mooshi Sushi,
the new sushi bar, Immy began to feel sick in earnest. "Vance, I don't...I never...I'm not sure I can eat raw fish."

"You've never had sushi?"

Immy imagined that not having sushi was an unsophisticated thing. "Well, it's been awhile."

"It's time to remedy that," he said.
Had he seen through her?
He came around to her side of the car and held her door. Immy stood up, straightened her spine, and determined to be sophisticated tonight.

Vance put his hand in the small of her back to guide her into the restaurant, and again on the way to their table. She was sure she could have managed to walk there by herself, but his hand felt nice.

When Immy saw that the only utensils
on the table
were chopsticks, she aske
d the waiter for a fork. Vance ordered for both of them
, but she had no idea what he was saying.

When the food came, she asked him what everything was.
She managed to eat a piece of the smoked salmon, although it tasted mostly raw. Then she stuck to some little rolled up rice things that didn't
have any
fish in them.

Q
uietness descended after they had discussed the food and it became clear Immy wasn't going to try the eel or the raw tuna.

Immy ate two
more
little rice things, then noticed the silence was becoming uncomfortable.
"These are nice lamps," Immy said, knowing that Vance liked her
s
.

Vance looked up at the multicolored glass shade above their table.
"The originals are nice. These are knockoff Tiffanies. They're everywhere." He snorted. "It's a shame--cheapens the real thing, in my opinion."

"Oh. What kind
of lamp thing is that
in my house?"

Vance put his chopsticks down.
"
It's a chandelier.
I'm not sure
what kind
." His eyes glowed and
his face flushed
.
"I suppose it could be imitation, but
I think it's probably, no, most likely
crystal.
The question is, what kind of crystal? If it's Bohemian Swarovski...you need to let me see it again." He flashed the dimpled smile at her.

"Sure, sure. If you really want to."

"Now? Tonight?"

Immy cocked her head in thought. Was he trying to get her inside the house
--
where there were beds? Not a bad idea.

Vance declared himself finished with dinner three minutes later and, after Immy
reluctantly
refused dessert, they took off for the Tompkins house. Now, Immy supposed, it's the Duckworthy house. Maybe even The Duckworthy House. Should she have a sign made for the front porch? One to put in the yard? Maybe after she fixed it up. It should at least have all its
porch railing posts
first.

As soon as they entered the Great Hall and Immy flipped the light switch, Vance
zeroed in
and
focus
ed
. He peered up at the hanging light fixture for at least two minutes.

"Do you think there's a ladder in the basement?" he asked.

Immy shrugged. "You're welcome to look for one.
"

Vance soon had a tall stepladder
standing beneath the damn light
and scrambled up to get a closer look. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket (he really had a handkerchief? though
t
Immy) and wiped off some of the dangly things.
Clumps of dust floated to the hardwood floor. Immy sneezed.

"Straws," Vance whispered.

"Straws? It's not even glass?"

Vance spelled it
.
"S
-
t
-
r
-
a
-
s
-
s.
I think this is a Strass snowflake."

Immy supposed that was a kind of chandelier.
It wasn't remotely a snowflake.
Must be an impressive kind
of chandelier
, from the way Vance was carrying on
.

She had to get him away from the light fixture. Out of this room, into a bedroom, ideally. "Do you want to check out the lights upstairs?"

It was working. He started to climb down. "I'd like to see some
more
of the furniture
on this floor
first."

Well, shoot.

Before Vance was down three rungs, the chandelier swung. It hit the ladder, which lurched sideways. Immy ran over and grabbed the side to keep it from toppling. When it was steady, Vance's face
remained
pale and sweaty. The light still swayed slightly,
its crystal pendants softly tinkling,
sending moving shadows across the dusty carpet, and across Vance's frightened face.

"I could have been killed," he said.

"What happened? D
id
you bump the light?"

"No, I never touched it. It...came at me."

That was fanciful, Immy thought. Of course he touched it. He'd dusted it off with his hanky
and
probably
left it
moving
.

Vance hurried off the ladder and, leaving it where it was, headed for the front
porch
. Immy followed behind, switching the light off as she left. She locked
the door while Vance got into his
driver's seat.

No more Mr. Nice
Polite
Guy, she thought. But when she climbed into the Mini Cooper, Vance seemed to come to.

"I'm sorry I got so upset, Immy."

"Well, you did almost fall off the stepladder. That's scary."

He started the engine and headed toward Saltlick.
T
he evening was over
. They hadn't made it upstairs at all.

As they left Wymee Falls behind, she said it was a shame he hadn't gotten a good look at the rest of the furniture. He turned to face her.
"Do you mind if I call my partner to come look at some of these things?"

"Partner?"

"Yes. My...business partner, Quentin."

"I thought you sold real estate with Jersey Shorr."

"Oh, yes, I do. This is an outside business. Extra job."

Why did he sound like he was
keeping something from
her? They drove in silence most of the way.

"Immy," he finally said as they reached the outskirts of Saltlick. The yellow blinking light over the main road was a beacon in the dark.
A nearly full moon was on the rise nearby.
He didn't make a single move toward her.

What a waste of a moon, Immy thought.

"I'm sorry about tonight. Can we try again another time?"

"I don't know. I'll be pretty busy for awhile.
" It wouldn't hurt to play hard to get. "
I have to get moved in and need to get a bunch of stuff repaired in the house. The Tompkins House."

"We can help you with that. We can recommend some handymen and repair people."

Immy thought she'd let Ralph take a crack at it and see what he could repair first, for free. "I'll let you know if I need anybody. You can drop me back at the bank."

The look he gave her was odd, but it matched the whole evening, Immy thought.