Gail Oust - 'Til Dice Do Us Part

“Bad Jack, hmm?” Behind her trifocals, a wicked gleam lit Polly’s eyes. “Sounds like a man after my own heart. I could go for one of those ‘bad boy’ types. I like a man a little on the naughty side. He good-looking?”

“Mother!” Gloria sounded exasperated to the nth degree. “I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“How’d she find him?” Janine asked, interrupting the mother-daughter exchange.

“I called Eric Olsen and asked whom he’d recommend. Apparently Eric’s watched Bad Jack’s performance in the courtroom a time or two and been impressed.”

Polly gave Pam a broad wink. “Eric’s a nice young man. He seems to be taking quite a shine to your Megan.”

I had to agree. I’d noticed the byplay between the pair as well. Megan and Eric were cast as sweethearts in Forever, My Darling-Megan the ingénue; Eric the rooky detective. They were both unattached and made a cute couple.

Pam shrugged diffidently. “Megan likes him, too, but claims they’re only friends. We’ll see how the friendship holds up once the play is over.”

The waitress returned with drinks and took our orders. We rattled off our usuals-tuna and chicken salad sandwiches, respectively, for Pam and me, a chef’s salad for Janine, BLTs for mother and daughter, who for once were on the same page.

“How’s Claudia holding up under the strain?” Janine inquired.

“Not very well, I’m afraid, though she hasn’t said much. And as we all know, that’s not like Claudia.”

“What do you suppose will happen next?” Pam posed the question on everyone’s minds.

Was I the only one who’d realized the honeymoon was over for the newlyweds? “Don’t have a clue,” I said when no one else ventured an opinion. “Claudia’s guilty as sin of firing the shot that killed Lance. We all saw her pull the trigger. That’s why she needs the best defense attorney money can buy.”

Janine tore open a packet of sweetener and added it to her iced tea. “What do you think will happen to the play now that Lance is dead?”

“Who knows?” I took a sip of coffee. I’d lost count of how many cups I’d consumed already and was surprised I didn’t have a bad case of the shakes after all the caffeine. But drastic times called for drastic measures. “I really haven’t given the matter any thought. Why?”

Janine’s brows knit as she frowned. “Lance volunteered to donate the proceeds from ticket sales from opening night to Pets in Need.”

Pets in Need, the local chapter of the Humane Society, was overflowing with abandoned cats and dogs and in dire need of funds. I knew canceling the play would be a devastating blow to her plans for a new shelter. No play meant no money.

“I announced Lance’s offer at our last meeting.” She swirled her iced tea with a straw. “The group was really counting on the money we’d receive. We’ve been talking about a new shelter for years. With the proceeds from the play, it could become a reality. Everyone’s going to be so disappointed.”

I thought of the cat I’d semi-adopted, a half-wild creature I’d been feeding canned tuna in the hope of taming. The color of orange marmalade, it was a scrawny, bedraggled feline I’d named Tang. Bill thought it might even be a feral cat-an animal abandoned and left to fend for itself. Whatever it was, the cat had the lungs and vocal cords of a feisty newborn and was as generous as Santa with gifts of mice and bits of fur and bone. An animal shelter was sorely needed to harbor poor creatures such as Tang until permanent homes could be found.

“I was hoping we’d come up with a way to help Claudia through this,” I said.

“What about her sons?” Pam asked. “They should be told what’s going on with their mother.”

“I’ll give them a call,” Gloria volunteered. “I’ll get their numbers from Diane. I think she might still have them.”

“I don’t like the idea of Claudia’s being alone right now,” Janine said.

“I’ll move in with her for a couple days,” Polly offered quickly. “Answer the phone, see that she eats, keep the reporters at bay.”

I stifled a groan. Polly meant well, but I could see her granting interviews rather than keeping reporters at arm’s length. In no time at all, she’d become a familiar face on the nightly news.

We exchanged nervous glances.

“Shame on you.” Polly wagged an arthritic finger at us. “I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t have to worry. Claudia’s my friend, too. I know when to keep my trap shut.”

“Getting back to the play, Janine,” I said, relieved immediate problems were solved, “I don’t know how the play can continue without Lance in the picture.”

Krystal, our waitress, returned just then, carrying a tray loaded with sandwiches. “Lance?” she asked. “That wouldn’t be Lance Ledeaux, the actor, you’re talking about?”

“Yep, that’s him.” Polly reached for her BLT. “He got shot and killed deader ’n a doornail last night.”

“Ohh,” Krystal mewed. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she keeled over in a dead faint. Tuna salad merged with chicken salad and BLTs. Pickles collided with chips, all to form a messy heap on the shiny red linoleum floor.

At the sound of the crashing tray, silence thicker than bread pudding spread over the Koffee Kup. Patrons and staff alike craned their necks for a better view.

In a flash, Janine was on her knees beside the young woman, feeling for a pulse as we hovered over them.

“Should I dial nine-one-one?” I asked, digging for my cell phone, which had settled in the recesses of my purse.

“I think she just fainted,” Janine said at last. “She’ll be OK.”

To my immense relief, the woman’s eyelids flickered, and she stirred. I’m never quite sure what to do in a medical emergency. I take that back. I’ve developed my own protocol of sorts that I fondly refer to as the Trinity. No reference to the Holy Trinity, mind you, but a trinity all the same when it comes to medical emergencies. First step: Reach for the cell phone. Second step: Reach for a glass of water. Step three: Pray Janine’s nearby.

“W-what happened?” the young woman asked, dazed by the sea of unfamiliar faces peering down at her.

A stout, red-faced woman in a T-shirt and jeans rushed out of the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. Since her apron proclaimed her Queen of the Kitchen, I assumed she must be May Randolph, owner and head chef. May neatly sidestepped the mess on the floor and bent over the waitress lying sprawled on a bed of bread and gooey mayo. “Krystal, you all right? What the hell happened?” she demanded in a throaty smoker’s voice.

While Pam and Janine eased Krystal into a sitting position, I held a glass of water to her lips. The young woman shoved a dark strand of hair out of her face, then took a tentative sip. “I’m fine. Don’t know what came over me.”

“Is there someone we can call?” Gloria asked. “You still don’t look well enough to drive.”

Krystal shook her head weakly. “No,” she said. “I’m new in town.”

“This is the kid’s first day,” May explained, wiping large, work-roughened hands on her grease-stained apron. “I only hired her yesterday. Said she was on her way to Myrtle Beach to look for work when her car broke down. Claims they’re always looking for all sorts of help with the big hotels and whatnot.”

“Tough luck,” Polly commiserated.

“Felt sorry for the girl after hearing she was flat broke. From the looks of her scrawny ass, I’d say she hasn’t had a square meal in days.”

I studied the young woman closer and was relieved to see color seep into her fair skin. She had a pretty face with even features, a full mouth, not the Hollywood, puffy fish lips type currently in vogue but full in a natural sort of way, and large hazel eyes. While her lips may not have been enhanced, I couldn’t say the same about her boobs. Even though I’m not an expert in that sort of thing, they seemed a little too generous for someone with her slender build.