Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

"What are you two up to?" she asked.

Theenie looked flustered. "Oh, um, we thought we'd check the silver and see if it needs polishing."

"You polished it three days ago," Annie said.

"Yes, but we want to make sure it sparkles for the wedding."

Annie looked from one to the other. Lovelle glanced away; Theenie began fidgeting. "You know I don't use my grandmother's silver for business functions. I have special flatware that I bought in bulk," she added, although she knew Theenie was perfectly aware of that fact. Annie noted a cardboard box on the table and looked inside. Her grandmother's serving pieces, each in its individual velvet pouch, had been placed inside. "Okay, what's really going on?"

"It wasn't my idea," Lovelle said.

Theenie's face reddened. "Now, Annie, I know you're not going to like this—"

"You're hiding the silver," Annie said in disbelief.

"I thought it best under the circumstances," Theenie whispered. "One can never be too careful."

"She thinks the new guest might steal it," Lovelle said.

Theenie shot her a dark look. "Traitor."

Annie crossed her arms over her chest. "Put it back."

Theenie hesitated. "If you say so, dear."

Annie was still shaking her head when the doorbell rang. She found Jamie and Max standing on the other side. "Well, hello," she said, delighted to see them.

"Hello to you, good-looking," Max said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "If you get any prettier I'm going to have to change brides."

"See that?" Jamie said. "We're not even married yet, and he's already looking at other women."

Annie grinned at Max. She had liked him the minute they met. "He can't help himself. I'm hot stuff." She stepped back. "Come in."

"We just stopped by to drop off Destiny's mail for her column," Jamie said.

"You're in time for lunch. I'm about to heat up a big pot of my famous potato and cheese soup." She noted the sudden pained expression on Jamie's face. "Ooops, I forgot about the diet."

"I'm not on a diet," Max said, "and I love potato soup. Jamie can wait in the car with Fleas."

Jamie nudged him hard.

"You can't leave poor Fleas in the car," Annie protested.

Jamie chuckled. "He refused to get out and risk running into Peaches."

"I can put her out."

"Don't worry," Max said. "Muffin is singing Celine Dion songs to him."

Annie shook her head. Muffin was Max's talking computer, and she possessed the technology to do everything except bear children. In fact, she was more like a real-life assistant than a piece of machinery.

"I insist you stay for lunch," Annie told Jamie. "I'll make you a nice salad with fat-free dressing."

Jamie sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Destiny looked happy to see Jamie and Max. "Sit down," she said, pulling out the chair beside her, unaware that Peaches had already claimed it. The cat snarled and hissed. "Uh-oh, the cat from hell is using that chair. Perhaps you should choose another."

"I've never known Peaches to be in such a foul mood," Theenie said.

"It's because of the ghost," Destiny told her.

Max looked interested. "Ghost?"

Destiny nodded. "I'm surprised Jamie didn't mention it. You wouldn't believe what all goes on in this house." She leaned closer to Max and started to say something.

"What can I offer you to drink?" Annie interrupted before Destiny had a chance to regale Max with stories. Annie had no desire for Destiny to share with Max Holt all the craziness that went on in the house.

"I'm fine for now," Jamie said.

Max nodded. "I'm okay."

"It's like this," Destiny began.

"Are you sure?" Annie almost shouted, making them jump. "I have coffee, tea, orange juice, apple juice, diet root beer—"

They shook their heads and turned their attention back to Destiny.

"… Two percent milk, soy. You know, I'll bet a glass of wine would be nice. I can—"

"Annie, what's wrong with you?" Jamie asked. "Why are you so jumpy?"

"It's the new tenant," Destiny said with a big grin. "You know, that half-naked guy you helped us stuff in the bathtub yesterday? He just moved in."

Max looked at Jamie. "Huh?"

* * * * *

Wes turned into the driveway of a modest ranch-style house, parked, and cut his engine. He removed his motorcycle helmet, climbed from the bike, and made his way toward the front door. The woman who opened it had hair the color of black shoe polish, wore a bright red caftan with matching lipstick and lime green bedroom slippers. A long, skinny cigarette dangled from her mouth.

"Wes Bridges?" she asked, talking around the cigarette. "I expected you yesterday." She had a three-pack-a-day smoker's voice; sounded like she'd been sucking on them since first grade.

"Life isn't always predictable, Mrs. Fortenberry. May I come in?"

"Yes." She stepped back and waited for him to enter before closing the door behind him. "You can call me Eve." She motioned to a lumpy chair that was the same avocado green as the dated shag carpet. Wes sat.

Garlic hung heavy in the air. Wes blinked and rubbed his eyes. The ash on Eve's cigarette was an inch long. He eyed it closely.

"I'm making spaghetti for a sick neighbor," Eve said. "Do you like garlic?"

"In reasonable doses."

"It cures all sorts of ailments, you know. May I offer you something to drink?" When Wes declined, she sat on the worn sofa across from him. She took a deep draw from her cigarette, and the ash grew longer. Finally, it fell unnoticed by her on her dress. "Now then," she said. "What have you got for me?"

"I've rented a room from your daughter-in-law."

She gave a dry hacking cough. "You work fast."

"I don't believe in wasting a client's time or money," he said.

"What do you think of Annie? Is she a kook or what? Her grandmother was a kook. Like they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Wes looked thoughtful. "It's too soon to tell."

Puff, puff, cough. "And how 'bout that house? I ask you, have you ever?"

"Nope, never."

"You know it's an old bordello or, as my daddy would say, God rest his soul, whorehouse."

Wes arched both brows. "Oh yeah?"

"Before the Civil War. I read up on it a long time ago." She paused. "Did Annie mention my son?"

"I was told he left her for another woman."

"That's the cock-and-bull story she gave the police, and the reason they did such a piss-poor job of investigating. That Lamar Tevis, he's the police chief, is an idiot. He bought this fancy-schmancy deep-sea fishing boat three years ago. He's going to retire as soon as he pays it off and start a deep-sea fishing charter service. He's just biding his time until then."

"You don't believe your son left Annie?" Wes asked.

"Hell no. I wouldn't have hired you otherwise."

Wes glanced around the living room. "Perhaps we should go over my fees again."

"My check for your retainer cleared the bank, didn't it?" she said stiffly. When he nodded, she went on. "I can cover your expenses, Mr. Bridges. As I told you over the phone, my husband died three months ago. Fortunately, he had a sizable insurance policy, so I was finally able do something about my son's disappearance. I'll spend every dime of it if I have to in order to find out what really happened to Charles."

Wes gave her a kind smile. "Eve, your son's car was found at the Savannah airport. No luggage. He cleaned out the savings account he shared with his wife. He had enough money to fly anywhere in the world."

She looked embarrassed. "My son worked hard for that money. Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep up a place the size of Annie's? The electric bill alone would break me." She took a long drag from her cigarette. "There was no record of him getting on a plane, no paper trail, nothing. We've already been over that. The bottom line is Charles would never have stayed gone this long without contacting me. No matter what the circumstances," she added. "I spent twice the going rate to hire you because you're supposed to be the best in the business. I want my son found."