to sit in a goddamned hotel. I want to see that woman." She was out at the edge, now, strung tight and fraying. Cheeks the color of milk.
I looked at her.
"Please." Her face softened and she took my arm. "Let's try her shop again. If she's not there, we'll go to the hotel."
I took her back to Eunice.
We got there just before four, and again I had to get out and look in the window, and again Edith wasn't there. I went back to the car, and got in shaking my head. Jodi said, "What do you have to do to get a break around here?"
We were just pulling away when Edith Boudreaux's metallic blue Oldsmobile passed us and parked at the curb and Edith got out. Jodi and I saw her at the same time. I said, "That's her."
Jodi came erect and stiff in the seat, her face almost to the windshield, both hands on the dash. Her lips parted, and there seemed a kind of electrical field flooding the car. I looked from Jodi Taylor to Edith Boudreaux and back again. Looking at Edith was like looking at an older, softer version of Jodi.
It took Edith maybe fifteen seconds to move from her car to her shop and then she was gone.
I said, "Are you okay?"
Jodi stared at the closed door. Her breasts rose and fell, and a pulse hammered in the smooth skin beneath her jaw.
I said, "Jodi?"
Jodi blinked twice and looked at me, and then she shook her head. She said, "I was wrong. I can't leave now. I have to go in there."
CHAPTER 20
T he sun was high and bright, and the sky was a deep, rich blue, and maybe I hadn't heard her correctly. Maybe she wasn't talking about Edith Boudreaux. Maybe we had taken a wrong turn coming back to town and we weren't even in Eunice, Louisiana, anymore. Maybe we were in Mayberry, and she had seen Aunt Bea slip into this dress shop and she wanted to meet the old gal. Sure. That was it. I said, "I thought you didn't want to meet her."
"I've changed my mind." She didn't look at me when she said it. She was looking past me, at the dress shop, as if Edith might suddenly make a break for it and disappear.
I said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
She shook her head.
"The smart thing is to bring in Lucy Chenier. Lucy knows about this."
Jodi shook her head again. "I might chicken out."
"If you're not sure, maybe you should chicken out."
"Why are you trying to talk me out of this?"
"Because you were adamant about not meeting her. Once you meet her you can't take it back, either for you or for her. I want you to be sure."
She kept her eyes on the store, drumming her fingers on the dash.
I said, "At the very least I should go in first and prepare her."
She said, "Let's just get this over with." Jodi pushed out of the car the way you come off the high board, all at once so that you don't give yourself time to reconsider. The way you do when you're not sure you want to go, but you're going to go anyway.
I got out with her and we crossed the street and went into Edith's place of business, me in trail and Jodi ahead, plowing on come hell or high water. Two women in their sixties were browsing through a rack of summer frocks to our right, and the young blond sales clerk was talking with a red-haired woman who was looking at herself in one of those three-sided mirrors in the rear of the place. Edith was standing at the register, frowning at a sales receipt. She looked up when the little bell chimed and smiled automatically, and then she saw me and her smile froze with the abruptness of a stopping heart. Her eyes went to Jodi for a moment, held there, then came back to me. Jodi froze in the center of the store as if she'd been spiked to the floor. Up close is different than out in the car. I said, "Hi, Mrs. Boudreaux. I hope this is a good time."
She wasn't liking it that I was back. "Well, it isn't really." She looked at Jodi again. She knew that this wasn't the same woman who was with me before. Jodi was still in the dark glasses and ball cap, with her hair pulled back and a