Full Scoop (8 page)

Vera gave the outfit a disapproving look. “I hope an animal didn’t have to die for that blouse,” she said, even though it was obviously not the case.

Vera and Destiny’s relationship consisted mainly of squabbling, although it had never been mean-spirited.
Gazette
employees had grown to expect it, and they found it amusing. This was why Jamie had given Destiny the desk closest to Vera.

Destiny ignored the barb and gave Vera a pleasant smile. “Wow, it’s hot out there! I am wet and sticky in places I didn’t even know I had.”

“Please don’t share,” Vera said. “I don’t want to have to think about it.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

“You know, Vera,” Destiny said, “a good roll in the hay would go a long way toward improving your disposition. Even old people have needs.”

“Who are you calling old? Even if I was old, which I’m not, I’d rather be old than crazy, which you are. Miss Love Goddess,” she muttered.

“My advice column has brought in tons of new readers.”

“Goes to show you how many nutso cases there are in this town.”

Destiny looked thoughtful. “You’d better be nice to me or I’ll send my new friend Earl G. Potts to haunt your house. Before he met his untimely demise in a bad fall during his famous trapeze act, his hobby was cross-dressing. He paints his toenails.”

Vera just looked at her. She made no secret that she thought Destiny strange, and Destiny did all she could to live up to it.

Jamie opened the door and stalked from her office, her expression furious. “I don’t know why the two of you come in on Saturday. You should be enjoying your weekends.”

“So should you,” Destiny said.

“I have no place else to go. My house is filled with contactors, remember?” She looked at Vera. “Has Mike called?”

“No. Did he do something wrong?” Vera asked. “Again?” she added.

“He decided to tack on a few lines to the article he wrote about Carl Lee Stanton. Which he did not run by me for approval before it went to press,” she added.

Vera held out her hand. “Let me see.”

Jamie handed her the newspaper and crossed her arms. “Read the last paragraph.”

Vera read quickly and pressed her lips in annoyance. “What was he thinking? Like Maggie Davenport doesn’t have enough problems.”

“I’m just worried she’ll think I gave him the okay,” she said. “I need to talk to her.”

Destiny read the paragraph next. “Jerk,” she said. “I’m glad I didn’t sleep with him.”

Jamie took a deep calming breath. “I’m going to handle this like a professional businesswoman,” she said. “I’m going to have a meeting with him, discuss those areas I find problematic, put him on a probationary period, and follow up with a letter to him, a copy of which will go in a folder for future reference,” she added.

“That’s an excellent plan,” Vera said.

“And then, once it gets dark, I’m going to slash his tires,” Jamie added.

Vera looked impressed. “An even better plan! But slashing tires is hard and dirty work when I can just as easily shoot holes in them with my thirty-eight.”

Destiny handed Jamie a purple folder with gold moons and stars adorning the front. “I just stopped by to drop off what mail I’ve answered.” Jamie took it.

Vera stood. “I need to run this to the back real quick,” she told Jamie. “How about catching the calls for a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Sooo, how’s it going?” Destiny asked, once she and Jamie were alone. “Any luck in the you-know-what department?”

“Huh?”

“I know you’re trying to get pregnant,” Destiny whispered. “I’m psychic, remember? Plus, I’ve seen the way you look at Frankie Jr.”

“I didn’t know I had any maternal instincts until he came along,” Jamie said quietly. “I wonder if anyone else suspects.”

“I doubt it. And I’m not going to say anything.”

“Well, to answer your question, so far nothing has happened. I finally tossed my home pregnancy kits in the trash like Maggie suggested. She thinks I’m trying too hard.” She paused and looked at Destiny. “Do you ever think about having children?”

“No way. I don’t even want a dog.” Vera returned and went to her desk. “I can’t handle pets after what happened to my goldfish,” Destiny added.

“What happened?” Jamie asked.

“He committed suicide.”

Vera sighed but didn’t look up.

“How awful,” Jamie said.

“Yep. I came home one day and there he was lying on the coffee table. Jumped right out of his bowl. He’d been depressed.”

Vera just looked at her.

“How do you know it wasn’t an accident?” Jamie asked.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is for a goldfish to jump out of his bowl? That little bugger had to practice. He hated me. We never bonded.”

“That’s so sad.” Jamie shook her head.

“He was obviously desperate to get out of our relationship. I know what it’s like because that’s exactly how I felt with my third husband. I think we all feel stuck in our fishbowls from time to time, just like poor little Petey.”

“Oh, good grief!” Vera said loudly, looking at Destiny. “That is the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth. You made that up.”

Destiny looked indignant. “I did
not
. I still have the little box containing his remains. I had him cremated.”

“I can’t listen to this,” Vera said, “or I will go crazy.”

Destiny reached for the phone messages on her desk. “Oh, no, Freddy Baylor called! Three times!” She waved the messages at Jamie. “See, I told you trouble was on the way. First, that convict escapes, and now
bait store owner
Freddy Baylor, who keeps his hands in disgusting
stuff
”—she paused and gave a huge shudder—“is hot on my trail!”

“Maybe he wears latex gloves,” Jamie said.

Destiny ignored her. “It’s worse. I heard his friends had him chewing tobacco!” She grimaced. “It seems I’ve always got some strange man following me,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Vera gazed at her computer screen. “You could maybe stop dressing like a tramp.”

“Uh-oh,” Jamie said.

Destiny looked Vera’s way. “And do what? Shop for my clothes at the Bargain Barn? Haven’t you already cleaned them out of polyester?”

“Be nice,” Jamie said, although it was all she could do to keep a straight face.

Vera opened her mouth to respond, but the phone rang.

“Remember, if it’s Mike I want to talk to him,” Jamie said.

Vera nodded and answered the phone in a pleasant voice. No one would have suspected she had offered to put bullet holes through someone’s tires only minutes before.

Jamie stepped close to Destiny. “You were just kidding about having your goldfish cremated, right?”

Destiny winked. “I’ve never even had a goldfish, but don’t tell Vera.”

Vera finished with the caller and hung up. “No, it wasn’t Mike,” she said to Jamie’s questioning look. “And if you’re going to spend the afternoon fretting over what Maggie might think, you need to drive over and set the record straight.”

Jamie climbed from her car and opened the back door so Fleas could get out. She had wanted to leave him at the office, but the hound had caught her sneaking out and had given her the same look he did when they ran out of his favorite butter pecan ice cream.

A man stepped out the back door and smiled. “You must be Jamie. I recognize you by your dog. Mel described him to me.”

Maggie hadn’t mentioned Zack Madden was good-looking. She grinned. “You must be Zack. I recognize you by your injuries.” Jamie offered her hand, and they shook. “It’s a relief knowing my friend and her daughter are being looked after by a professional. How
is
Maggie, by the way?”

“She’s worried, of course. Mainly about her daughter,” he added.

Jamie hated to think the newspaper article may have added to Maggie’s worries. She had not been able to reach Mike Henderson on his cell phone during her drive over. “I think some girl talk might be in order,” Jamie said.

“She’s in her bedroom. I saw her haul two laundry baskets in there.”

“Thanks.” Jamie headed toward the house; Fleas didn’t follow. Instead, he moseyed toward the backyard. Jamie found Mel sitting at the kitchen table in oversized pajamas eating pizza. She was reading a magazine and tapping one hand to the beat of the music spilling from her room. “Hi, kiddo,” Jamie said.

Mel looked up and smiled, showing a mouth full of braces. “Hey. You want some cold pizza?”

“No, thanks. I just dropped by to say hello to your mom. By the way, how’s the new goat?”

“She’s cute. Except her eyes are weird,” Mel added.

Jamie tapped on Maggie’s bedroom door a moment later and peeked in. She found Maggie sitting on her bed surrounded by a mountain of laundry, a phone tucked between her jaw and shoulder.

She motioned Jamie inside. “Okay, listen up, Queenie,” she said into the phone, “You know how I feel about harmful root work, even if it’s aimed at Carl Lee Stanton. Just remember, if you get into trouble, I am
not
going to bail you out of jail or smuggle a hacksaw to your cell, baked in a Lady Baltimore cake. Oh, and tell Everest I said to drive safely.” Maggie hung up and shook her head. “That woman is a danger to herself and others. She won’t rest easy until she gets a black hen, despite having to drive all the way to Savannah to get it.”

“What does she plan to do with it?”

“She uses the eggs in various ways, depending on what kind of magic she’s trying to work. We’re better off not knowing.”

Jamie nodded toward the bed. “I hear you’re on a laundry-folding marathon. You doctors really do lead glamorous lives.”

“Yeah, ain’t it grand?”

Jamie hesitated. “Um, just so you know; I had nothing to do with what was written about you in the article. As owner of the paper, I take all responsibility, and I—”

“Let’s just forget about it,” Maggie said. “Besides, it’s old news. Abby Bradley has already told everybody.
But
if you’re really feeling guilty you can match these socks for me.” She nodded toward the stack.

“I hate matching socks.” Jamie kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the mound toward her. “Yuk.”

Maggie grinned and produced a pillowcase from beneath a pile of sheets. She reached deep inside and pulled out two Tootsie Rolls. “Chocolate?” she offered.

“That’s a pretty unique hiding place,” Jamie said, taking the candy. She and Maggie wasted no time unwrapping their goodies. “Now, fill me in on the good-looking FBI guy.”

Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know much about him other than he seems good at his job, and I feel safer having him here.” She bit into her Tootsie Roll.

“Wife? Children?” Jamie asked.

“He said his job isn’t conducive to family life. I know I wouldn’t want to be married to a man who spent most of his time away from home. Plus, I’m sure undercover work is dangerous.” She paused. “Speaking of family, how is the baby-making business?”

Jamie shrugged. “Nothing to report.”

Maggie could hear the disappointment in her voice. “You know, Queenie claims she has a surefire fertility recipe,” she said.

“Really?” Jamie looked up.

“It’s so simple anyone can do it. All you need is a rosebush,” she added. “You can only use red roses though. They signify desire.” She knew Max and Jamie had rosebushes at their new house.

Jamie looked eager.

“You dig up the rosebush at dawn while the petals are still dewy. Before you cover the hole, you drop a shiny new penny inside. Then, you pluck all the petals from the roses. You don’t have to measure them out or anything, but you drop half the petals in your bathwater with your favorite bath salts, and you sprinkle the other half on your sheets at bedtime.”

“And it’s supposed to make people fertile?” Jamie asked.

“That’s what I hear.”

“Gee, I hope I don’t have quintuplets.”

“That’s fairly rare.” Maggie folded one of Mel’s T-shirts and smoothed her hand across it like an iron, to get the wrinkles out. “Which is a good thing because you don’t want to have five thirteen-year-olds,” she said.

Jamie was quiet for a moment, committing the recipe to memory. She looked up, noted the worry lines on Maggie’s brow. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, it’s a little tense around here these days.” She tried to smile but failed.

Jamie studied her. “What is it you’re not telling me?” When Maggie looked surprised, Jamie arched one brow. “You think I don’t know you by now? I can tell when you’re hiding something. Give it to me, Davenport. Don’t make me wait to hear it from Abby Bradley.”

“I got a call this morning from the psychiatrist at Texas Federal Prison.” She told Jamie about her conversation with McKelvey. “The fact that he would put ethics aside in order to warn me is pretty scary. Carl Lee has newspaper clippings. Mel’s picture has been in the paper twice since I returned. The picture you took of the two of us sitting on the trunk and—”

“The art show last year,” Jamie said, remembering the close-up she had taken of Mel holding the blue ribbon for the sketches she had been so hesitant to share.

“I’m afraid Carl Lee might have figured out the truth. If he hasn’t, his mother probably has. Mel and I ran into her at Wal-Mart six or eight months ago so I know the woman got a good look at her. What if she sent the clippings?”

“Did the psychiatrist mention anything?”

“No. But Zack has seen the file. Carl Lee knows I have a daughter. What if—”

“Okay, time out,” Jamie said. “I would think if Carl Lee knows, it would be in the file and Zack would have said something. Don’t go borrowing trouble, as Vera would say.”

Maggie stood and walked to the closet where she pulled a large hardbound book from the top shelf. “This was in my grandmother’s old trunk, along with a ton of other stuff, including incriminating material like love letters and notes from my friends, teen magazines and sexy paperbacks that my parents would never have approved of,” she added. “The trunk was in the barn crammed inside a stall with my grandparents’ other antiques so it was a good place to hide things.” She held up the book. “Remember this?”