Jeff Abbott - Only Good Yankee

Those tight smiles of theirs didn’t budge an inch. “Hey, sugar pie. I just thought I’d stop by and see how Miss Lorna here was doing.” Eula Mae got up, her layers of necklaces tinkling as she moved, and gave me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. I was not swayed. “You sure y’all aren’t squabbling over that land deal?” I asked. Eula Mae pressed a well-manicured hand to her violet peasant blouse (showing her freckled cleavage to best display). “Honey, we haven’t even talked about that stuff. It’s so trivial in the light of poor Mr. Callahan’s murder.”

Lorna’s smile faded as soon as Eula Mae wasn’t looking at her. “Ms.

Quiff was kind enough to invite me to come stay with her. She thought I might be underfoot here.” Eula Mae rolled her eyes at me before turning them, glistening with kindness and sympathy, toward Lorna.

“Sweetie, the way you phrase things! I simply thought that it might be nicer for you to have a little more room, what with this house being so full of Jordy, and Arlene, and Mark, and Anne, and Clo being over so much.” I frowned slightly at Eula Mae, who did not appear to notice, being busy closely examining the setting of one of her many rings. I decided on the gentlemanly approach. “How kind of you, Eula Mae. And how unusually generous of you.” She bristled a tad at that and I grinned. “But I think Lorna’s just fine right here.” Eula Mae shrugged, the field of battle abandoned. “You’re right, Jordy. I mean, you are spending most of your time at Candace’s, so there is plenty of room here for dear Lorna.” Well, nearly abandoned. She leaned down and patted-or lightly slapped, depending on your point of view-Lorna’s leg. “If you change your mind, sweetness, you just call Eula Mae.

You’ll always be welcome at Chez Quiff.” I steered the Unwelcome Wagon firmly to and out the door. The full blast of the afternoon humidity and sunlight hit us and we both blinked against the glare. She shrugged off my light touch and frowned at me when I’d shut the front door. “Jordan Poteet. Are you thinking with your loins these days?”

“What’s wrong with you? Have you totally forgotten your manners?” “You could strip the flesh from my bones,” Eula Mae hissed, “and I’d still have more class than that nasal-voiced little minx in there.” “Good Lord!” “Turning down my heartfelt invitation in her hour of need. And not even nicely, telling me she was sure Candace had sent me over here.” She was near fake tears. “Did Candace send you over here?” “Of course not!” Eula Mae stomped her foot. “I am capable of independent thought, mister. You forget I’ve made my money from knowing all about love.” That was a tempting statement to twist around on her, but I kept my mouth shut. I wouldn’t have gotten a line in anyway. “I know exactly what that woman’s up to. You don’t give a man the Kama Sutra if you just want to be pen pals. Especially the new edition,” Eula Mae continued. “And it’s the way she looks at you. I saw it last night at the library when she came in. She only saw you, Jordy. The way her eyes narrowed, I figured the poor child was astigmatic or in heat. And she don’t wear glasses.” “Eula Mae. I appreciate your concern, honestly, but you’re getting carried away.” “Jordy, darlin’.” She took my arm. “Listen to me. That girl’s still in love with you. It’s as plain to me as it is hidden to you. You’re sweet as pie, but dense as fudge when it comes to women sometimes.” “I know she has feelings for me, Eula Mae.” I wasn’t about to tell the Human P.A. System here about last night’s after-dinner kiss. “Forewarned is forearmed,” she intoned. “I‘ve made it clear to her I’m not about to tumble back into her bed. She knows I have feelings for Candace.” Eula Mae raised one plucked eyebrow. “And does Candace know?” “Of course she does!” Eula Mae made a noise in her throat, fished her keys out of her denim skirt pocket, and sauntered off to her purple BMW with the ROMWRTR vanity license plates. I watched her roar off. Eula Mae was obviously not spending nearly enough time in front of her word processor and was inventing romantic fictions in real people’s lives as compensation. Of course Candace knew I loved her. And I wasn’t going back to Lorna.

Nosireebob. Lorna was stretched out on the couch, the back of her hand resting gently against her forehead. Her long legs lay along the cushions, ideally formed and with the beginnings of a tan. Her khaki shorts were snug and short, her neon-aqua T-shirt pulled taut across her breasts. She’d been sweating and there was just a hint of a sheen at her throat. Her waist, which had always fit perfectly against the inside of my arm, was encircled with a colorfully stitched cloth belt.

She’d pulled her thick yank of hair back and fastened it into a ponytail with a bit of ribbon, and a lank of it lay on her shoulder. I watched her breathe and she kept her eyes closed. I’d stormed in, ready to confront her about Greg’s lies, and now I found myself not wanting to have this conversation-just wanting to watch her doze, the way I used to on lazy Sunday afternoons in New England. “Has the Wicked Witch of the South ridden off with her flying monkeys?” Lorna asked. “Hey, there. Eula Mae’s harmless and she’s my friend.” I sat down on the end of the couch, pushing her feet up to make room. Her skin felt annoyingly good. “I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t want to be my friend, despite her oh-so-kind invitation to stay with her.” “What was all that about?” “Your harmless little friend sauntered in like she owned your house, told me in nice-but no uncertain-terms that you really didn’t want me here, and just seemed flabbergasted I wasn’t packed and ready to go. I think she even hinted that your mother might be inclined to go into homicidal spells, without reason, at any given moment.” “Eula Mae’s bark is worse than her bite.” “Well, mine’s not.” “Where is everyone?” I asked. “Your sister has gone grocery shopping. She made some comment about not expecting another mouth to feed.” Lorna sounded a little cross and I couldn’t blame her. “Sorry about that. Just ignore her, she’s basically decent when she isn’t being catty.” Lorna shrugged. “I have far more to worry about than being on Arlene’s shit list. Your mother’s upstairs taking a nap; I checked on her a few minutes ago. I did meet your nephew Mark, by the way. He stopped by for lunch and he’s off swimming with some friends.” She opened one gray eye and watched me past her raised knee. Probing my ribs with her wriggling toes, she said: “You don’t want me to go, do you, Jordan?” I took a long breath. “That depends on how you answer my questions.” That got both those gray eyes open. “What?” “Did you know that Greg was running a land scam? That he was planning on reselling the land he wanted to buy for condominiums to a chemical dump site?” I watched her face as I spoke, for any betraying flicker. Her mouth worked, her jaw closing and opening on empty air. “What do you mean?” I told her again. She pulled herself into a sitting position. “How do you know this?” It wasn’t an answer to my question, but I told her about finding the files on Greg’s laptop. “Jordan, I swear to you-I swear on our friendship-that I didn’t know anything about this.” We exchanged stares, then she lowered her eyes. “I feel like an idiot, and you don’t believe me,” she said. “How could you not have known, Lorna?”

She shook her head, her eyes staring off into her memories. “I didn’t know.” “I felt that you weren’t being entirely up-front this morning with Billy Ray and Junebug when they were asking about Greg. You’d better tell me everything you know.” “I did tell you,” she said, her eyes still watching something in her mind and not me. Absently she picked at the bandage on her finger. “No, Lorna. I know you well enough, and I don’t think you did. Now, what exactly did you do for Greg?” “I handled-I did-research for him. On properties around the country that met certain criteria that he had. I’d-identify the properties and then he’d see about acquiring land there, and investors to build on the land. I didn’t deal with any investors-I never met them.” I felt a sudden anger. “So you just happened to identify Mirabeau as the town to fit Greg’s needs. How convenient.” “I didn’t do it just to see you again, despite what your enormous ego might say,” she retorted, then looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just shocked.” She swallowed and went on: “I set up these databases for him of towns all over the country. Then I’d run queries on the database, finding out which ones had the attributes he looked for-river site, slow economy, proximity to a major metropolitan area. Lots of towns qualified, and he’d go check them out. He just-picked Mirabeau.” “And you didn’t help him make that choice?”