Fast Women

by Jennifer Crusie

  Nell straightened. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess. When did they tell you?”

  “Wednesday,” Nell said.

  Gabe nodded. “Which would explain going upstairs with the guy on the decoy and sleeping with Riley and smashing your ex’s office. I’m not sure how you ended up with the dog and Lynnie—”

  “People kept doing lousy things and getting away with it,” Nell said. “I was mad.”

  “You can’t do that anymore,” Gabe said.

  “I know,” Nell said.

  “As part of this firm, your actions reflect on all of us.”

  “I’m part of the firm?”

  “That depends.”

  He looked into her eyes, and she gazed back, trying to look steady and trustworthy. I want to be part of this, she thought. Let me in.

  “I have an assignment for you,” Gabe said. “You are hardworking and efficient and smart as hell, and I don’t want to fire you. But you have to promise to keep your mouth shut and not avenge any wrongs you see. Can you do that?”

  Nell nodded.

  “This particular assignment is about someone you know,” Gabe said, “which is why you can help.”

  “Will I have to betray anybody?” Nell said. “Because I won’t.”

  Gabe shrugged and picked up another fry. “Depends on what you mean by ‘betray.’ I want the answers to some questions. I don’t think the person you’ll be asking is guilty.”

  Nell swallowed. “I can promise not to say anything to anybody about anything you tell me. I can’t promise anything else until you tell me what this is about.”

  “Fair enough,” Gabe said. “Somebody is blackmailing people at O&D. Trevor Ogilvie, Jack Dysart, and Budge Jenkins.”

  “Oh.” Nell felt relieved. She didn’t care what happened to any of them. She picked up another french fry. “You think it’s Lynnie?”

  “It’s a guess.”

  “What is she accusing them of?”

  “Budge of embezzling.”

  Nell laughed out loud. “Budge? She doesn’t know him at all.”

  “Really?” Gabe said. “What would you accuse him of? If you wanted to scare him?”

  Nell leaned back and looked at the ceiling as she thought. Nothing bothered Budge, except … “Something that would take Margie from him,” she said. “He worships the carpet she walks on, has for years.”

  “What would do that?”

  “If he broke a piece of her Franciscan Desert Rose earthenware,” Nell said, only half joking. “Margie is pretty easygoing. She put up with Stewart for fifteen years, and I’d have killed him on the honeymoon.”

  “Stewart,” Gabe said.

  “Stewart Dysart,” Nell said. “Jack and Tim’s brother. Jack’s the oldest and the big success, and Tim’s the baby and the sweet one everybody loves, and Stewart would have been just pathetic in the middle except he was so obnoxious about everything.”

  He frowned at her. “Why does his name sound familiar? Did they divorce?”

  “No. He went south with almost a million of O&D assets seven years ago.”

  “Got it,” Gabe said, nodding. “O&D hushed it up. Why didn’t she divorce him?”

  “If she gets divorced,” Nell said, “she’ll end up marrying Budge, and she doesn’t want to marry Budge.”

  Gabe looked at her in disbelief. “She can’t say no?”

  “No,” Nell said. “Margie cannot say no. But she can say, ‘Not yet, I’m married,’ so she’s covered. What did the blackmailer accuse Jack of?”

  “Adultery. Trevor, too.”

  “I don’t think so,” Nell said. “Jack’s bananas about Suze. Almost to the point of pathology. And Margie’s dad cheated once before, but it was over twenty years ago, so I don’t think that counts. Besides, that ended so badly, so much scandal when her mother killed herself, that I don’t think he’d take the chance again.”

  Gabe nodded. “I need you to ask Margie some questions about her mother.”

  “Oh.” Nell’s good humor faded. “No.”

  “Somebody has to ask her,” Gabe said, looking the way he had the first day she’d met him, dark and hard. “You don’t want it to be me.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Nell said. “And don’t threaten her. I don’t even know what this is about, and you want me to go asking horrible questions.”

  “I told you what it’s about,” Gabe said with exaggerated patience. “Blackmail.”

  “What does Margie’s mother who died over twenty years ago have to do with Margie’s dad being blackmailed now?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

  “No, I won’t,” Nell said. “Look, if I have to promise to question Margie or you’ll fire me, I’m fired.”

  Gabe sighed and stood up. “Come on. It’s time to get back to work.”

  Nell stood, too, and looked down to take one last fry for the road.

  There weren’t any. She’d eaten a huge salad and two orders of fries.

  “You ready?” Gabe said.

  “Am I fired?”

  “No,” Gabe said.

  “I’m ready,” Nell said.

  Chapter Eight

  “Still employed?” Riley said to Nell when they got back to the office.

  “Of course,” Nell said. “How’s SugarPie?”

  At the sound of her name, the dog crept out of Riley’s office, quivering and limping, a cashmere-clad basket case.

  “What did you do to her?” Nell said, appalled.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Riley said. “I left her to go check on Lynnie, and when I got back, she was doing this. I ignored her and she snapped out of it. She does it for the effect.”

  “She does not. She’s been abused.” Nell crouched down to gather SugarPie into her arms, but she moaned and rolled over on the Oriental, her stubby little legs pointing off to one side, looking pathetic in their white cuffs. “SugarPie? What’s wrong?”

  “If this dog was human, she’d be leaping in front of buses, claiming whiplash.” Riley looked down at her. “I won’t play the sap for you, sweetheart. But the redhead will. Work it for all the dog biscuits you can get.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Give her a dog biscuit,” Riley said.

  “Biscuit?” Nell said to the dog, and SugarPie rolled her head to look at her pitifully. Nell reached up to the desk and got a biscuit. “Here, baby. It’s okay.”

  SugarPie looked at her for a long dramatic moment. Then she took the biscuit carefully in her mouth, looked yearningly up at Nell one last time, and rolled over and devoured it with savage relish.

  “You stole an unabused dog,” Gabe said.

  “He called her a little bitch,” Nell said from the floor, indignant.

  “Well, technically, she is,” Riley said.

  “And she looked awful.” Nell looked down at SugarPie, now licking the rug to get the last of the biscuit crumbs. “She was traumatized.”

  SugarPie looked up at all of them, dropped her head between her shoulders, and moaned.

  “Now what?” Gabe said, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him, quivering at his feet.

  “Marlene Dietrich used to do that eyelash thing in the movies, right before she took a guy for everything he had,” Riley said. “All this dog needs is a garter belt and a top hat.”

  “You’ve been had, kid,” Gabe said to Nell. “It’s an occupational hazard around here. Take the dog back.” He looked down at SugarPie and added, “Preferably in the dead of night.”

  “That would be a good idea,” Riley said. “Except she shaved it, dyed it black, and dressed it in Ralph Lauren. Its own mother wouldn’t recognize it now.”

  “You shaved it?” Gabe sighed. “Don’t tell me why. Just get it out of here.”

  “Before I forget,” Riley said to Nell, “Suze Campbell called. I told her the dog was fine.” He looked down at SugarPie. “I lied, of course.”

  “Suze who?” Nell said, surprised.

  �
��Dysart,” Gabe said, shooting an exasperated look at Riley, and went into his office.

  SugarPie picked up her head and looked after him with interest and then, evidently realizing all remaining eyes were on her, collapsed again.

  “How do you know Suze’s maiden name?” Nell said.

  “So Gabe calls you ‘kid’ now, does he?” Riley raised his eyebrows at her. “What did you do, drug his beer?”

  “We talked,” Nell said, putting her chin in the air. “He saw the wisdom of my ways.”

  “He made you promise to change your ways or he’d sack you,” Riley said.

  Nell dropped her chin. “That, too. So how do you know—”

  “Well, I, for one, am glad you’re staying,” Riley said and Nell smiled at him, feeling better than she had in months. On the rug at their feet, suffering deeply from a lack of attention, SugarPie moaned and fluttered her eyelashes at him over her long brown nose.

  “Are you sure she’s not abused?” Nell said. “She acts so weird.”

  “Biscuit,” Riley said to the dog, and the eyelash flutter went into overdrive. He gave her a biscuit and she rolled over again to hold it between her paws as she crunched it into oblivion. “I’m sure.” He picked up the biscuit box and said, “Come on, Marlene. Back into hiding in case somebody comes looking for you, although only God knows why anybody would.”

  “Marlene?” Nell said.

  “I’m not calling anything SugarPie,” Riley said. “That’s obscene.”

  The dog gazed at them unblinking for a moment and then rolled to her feet, checked the carpet to make sure there were no missed crumbs, and trotted off into Riley’s office, slowing only to flutter her eyelashes at him as she went by.

  “I don’t believe it,” Nell said.

  “I have this effect on a lot of women,” Riley said.

  “Wait a minute,” Nell said. “How do you know—”

  But Riley had already closed his door.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Nell said to nobody in particular and went back to work.

  * * *

  Nell walked to the grocery the next day because it was Saturday, and she didn’t want to talk to Suze. If she stayed in the apartment, Suze would come over, and she wasn’t allowed to tell her anything, wasn’t allowed to say, “How am I going to ask Margie about her mom?” couldn’t even say, “Should I ask Margie about her mom?”

  She looked at the problem from all possible sides as she cruised the aisles at Big Bear, picking up yellow peppers and fresh spinach and Yukon Gold potatoes and tomatoes so ripe they glowed. The colors were amazing and she added more, vegetable pasta and papery garlic and red and white and yellow onions. Suddenly everything looked good, and she was starving.

  It was only when she got to the checkout that she remembered she was walking. All that color turned out to be heavy, and two blocks from the store, she had to put the bags down just to get her fingers out of the plastic loops. While she worked her fingers, she looked around. Like most of the German Village streets, it was crowded with trees and brick houses with wrought-iron fences, but this one in particular looked familiar. When she got to the corner she realized why: It was the cross street for the lane Lynnie lived on. She checked to see if Lynnie was there and saw the door to her brick duplex standing open and a strange woman on the narrow porch.

  Nell hefted her bags up again and went to see what was going on.

  Lynnie’s apartment looked empty. Some of the furniture was still there, but it was on its way out to a van that said CITYWIDE RENTAL on it. Nell moved aside as a guy carried out a chair, and then she went up the steps to the woman on the porch, feeling oddly bereft, as if a friend had moved without telling her.

  “Hi,” she said and gestured to the open door.

  “Two bedrooms, eight hundred a month,” the woman said, and Nell realized she was the woman from the other side of the duplex. “You want to look at it?”

  “Yes,” Nell said, planning on finding out more about Lynnie’s whereabouts, and followed her into the apartment, putting her bags on the floor to rest her fingers again.

  The landlady, Doris, lived in the other half of the duplex and didn’t know anything about Lynnie except that she’d left a note on her screen door the night before saying she was leaving and that Doris could keep the rest of the month’s rent. Doris was not happy that Lynnie had skipped out on her lease, even unhappier when the rental company had come and disrupted her chance to sleep late on Saturday morning, but, as she put it, she was not a gloomy person. “I’m one of those half-full-glass people,” she said, looking like her best friend had just died. “I just can’t help looking on the sunny side of things.”

  Nell had nodded, not really listening once she’d gotten the full story on Lynnie because the apartment had begun to appeal to her. It was a standard duplex, living room and kitchen downstairs and two bedrooms up. But the living room was big enough to take her grandmother’s dining room set, and the kitchen had glass doors on the cupboards, and the bedrooms were real bedrooms with doors, and the bathroom had black and white tiles from the forties. She looked out the back door and saw a postage stamp of a yard with a fence around it. Marlene would love it.

  She looked at the bags of food on the living room floor, more food than she’d consumed in the entire previous month, and she wanted to wash the vegetables in the old porcelain kitchen sink and put her plates in the glass-front cabinets, cut tomatoes on the drainboard and eat potatoes and vinegar on the tiny porch while she watched the Village go by. She wanted to see things and taste things and feel things, and she wanted to do it here.

  “I have a dog,” she said.

  “Nine hundred,” Doris said. “Assuming you make the credit check.”

  “Eight hundred and I write you a check for the first three months now.” Nell said. “You won’t have to advertise the apartment. You won’t even have to clean it.”

  “I don’t know.” Doris said. “A dog.”

  “She’s a dachshund, her name is Marlene, and she sleeps a lot.”

  Half an hour later, she opened the door to her old apartment and found Marlene sitting by the door, looking as though she’d been marooned for days. “We have a new place,” she told the dog. “Fenced-in backyard. Rooms to run through. You’re going to love it.”

  * * *

  “I still don’t understand why you want this place,” Suze said, standing in the middle of Nell’s boxes the next day.

  “Because I picked it out, not you and Jack.” Nell looked around the place as if it were a palace. “Because I’m finally doing things on my own.”

  “Okay,” Suze said, feeling underappreciated.

  “Hey, I still love the daybed you found for me, and Marlene is absolutely crazy for your chenille throw,” Nell said. “I can’t get it away from her.”

  Suze looked at Marlene, languishing on the daybed on four hundred dollars’ worth of indigo chenille. “That’s good to know.”

  “Can we please unpack your china now?” Margie said.

  Jase backed in the front door carrying one end of Nell’s dining room table, and when the other end appeared, after much arguing and tilting and groaning, it was held up by the girl he’d brought with him in the rental truck. He’d been yelling at her all afternoon to be careful unloading boxes or she’d hurt herself, to wait for him, to just wait a minute with anything that was heavy, while she laughed at him and hefted things without breaking a sweat, and Suze had thought, Was I ever that young?

  And then she remembered: She’d been exactly that young when she’d gotten married.

  My God, she thought, watching them now, arguing about where to drop the table. They’re like puppies. And that was me.

  “You okay, Aunt Suze?” Jase said.

  Suze nodded. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Just the clothes left,” the blonde said.

  “Yeah, right, Lu,” Jase said. “Like my mother doesn’t have a ton of those.” He pushed her gently out the door, laughing do
wn at her, and she made a face at him and pushed back.

  Margie gazed around the apartment. “Are you still going to sleep on the daybed now that you have a real bedroom?”

  “Nope,” Nell said. “I’m going to get a real bed.”

  The daybed is a real bed, Suze thought, but she said, “If you want, you can have the bed in our second guest room. We never have second guests anyway.”

  “Wonderful,” Nell said and went to tell Jase he had another job.

  “I put some of my clothes in the truck for you, too,” Suze said when she got back, but Nell didn’t hear; she was on her way to the kitchen to open the ancient glass-front cabinets and touch the panes as if they were something wonderful. Suze went out to the truck to help with the last of the boxes. She put one foot on the step at the back and then looked up.

  Jase was kissing Lu in the back of the truck, his hands tight on her rear end. It wasn’t a kid’s kiss, and it took Suze’s breath away. Jase shouldn’t be old enough to kiss anybody like that, but he was. He was three years older than she’d been when she’d gotten married.

  “What happened to my clothes?” Nell called from the porch, and Suze called back loudly, “I’ll get them,” and banged on the side of the truck and then kept her eyes averted until she’d climbed inside.

  Jase handed Lu a box and said, “Work for your keep,” and she said, “Like you wouldn’t keep me anyway.” She shot Suze a grin as she climbed out of the truck with the box, so sure and happy and young that Suze felt the envy in her bones.

  When Jase and Lu drove the empty truck away to get Suze’s second guest bed, Suze went inside and found Margie and Nell unpacking Nell’s china. Nell handed her a bubble-wrapped piece, and Suze unwrapped it carefully, trying not to be depressed by Jase and Lu. She should be happy for them. She was a horrible person.

  The last of the bubble wrap came off, and Suze looked at the teapot in her hands, startled out of her despair. It was round on the edges and flat on both sides, and it had a landscape painted on it, an eerie little scene with a weird bubble-shaped tree and two sad little houses, smoke curling mournfully up from their pointed chimneys. The bottom of the teapot was blue, a little stream between two tall hills, separating the tree from the houses forever.