Bonnie of Evidence - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,53
said, cutting me off. “There’s no pleasing that woman. No matter what we have, it’s never enough. I want, I want, I want. Buy, buy, buy. I swear she’s got one aim, and that’s to see me in ruins.”
I waited a beat. “So does that mean you’ve taken advantage of the free water on the bus or not?”
He looked beyond me, his expression turning sour. “Damn.”
“So what are you two discussing over here all by yourselves?” Stella inquired as she joined us.
“Nothing,” he bristled. “I’ve gotta pee.” And with that, he stalked off like a toddler on his way to a time out.
“He does that a lot,” she said dully.
“Storm off ?”
“Pee. It’s one of those prostate things, but it doesn’t stop him from testing out the equipment whenever he finds an opening, if you catch my drift.”
Holy crap. Was she accusing him of being a serial adulterer?
“So what were you two talking about?” she asked, regarding me as if I were a cat with telltale canary feathers sticking out of my mouth.
“Uhh … litigation. I think Alex really rattled him, so—”
“Are you a lawyer?”
“No, but—”
“Then why would my husband need to approach you with legal questions?”
Hmm. This was a little awkward. “He, uh, he wanted an unprofessional opinion about liability, so I gave him one.”
“And you expect me to believe that?” She took slow measure of me, looking me up and down. “You’re planning a tryst, aren’t you?”
“No! I don’t want to try out Bill’s equipment. I have my own equipment!” I paused. “Well, it’s my husband’s equipment, but I’m the primary user, and very happy with the operating system, so I’m not in the market for secondhand models.”
“Sure, you’re not. Women are attracted to Bill like turkey buzzards are attracted to roadkill.”
I gave her a squinty look, wondering if that was supposed to be a compliment.
“It’s the Gordon curse,” she said matter-of-factly. “Gordon men bear the burden of being absolutely irresistible to women. It’s because of their big, meaty hands”—her voice grew sultry, her eyes dreamy—“their broad, barrel chests. I’ve seen the way you look at Bill—you and that Pinker woman.”
I blinked in shock. “Dolly practically accused him of involuntary manslaughter a few minutes ago. If she was looking at him funny, it was probably because she was imagining what he’d look like in a witness box after Alex slapped a lawsuit on him.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” she fired back. “And don’t think I don’t know how to stop it. You better watch yourself, missy, because I’m onto the two of you.”
Cries of woe from the tatty armchairs by the window.
“Dang!” hollered Nana.
“What happened to our signal?” wailed Alice.
“Shoot! I was just about to send my message,” Margi whined at Grace. “Now you’ll never know what I was going to tell you.”
“And one more thing,” Stella griped as the noise and grumbling over lost cell service increased in volume. “You better check the quality of your beverage inventory, because that bottle of water Bill took out of your cooler yesterday? It leaked.”
THIRTEEN
I FORCED MYSELF TO remain outwardly calm, but inside, I was doing cartwheels. “So … Bill took advantage of the complimentary water on the bus yesterday?”
“Of course, he did. You don’t think he’d pay for it in the gift shop when he could get it for free, do you? He might be a sexual magnet, but he’s still a skinflint.”
“We’re going shopping,” Dick Teig announced as the gang paraded past me.
“We’re gonna look for some of them disposable cameras on account a we can’t take no more pictures if our phones are dead,” said Nana.
“Did anyone notice a camera shop on our way through town?” asked Tilly.
“How are we supposed to find the right store if we don’t have GPS to guide us there?” complained Dick Stolee.
“You could find it the old-fashioned way,” I suggested.
They paused en masse, hanging on my next word.
“You could explore on foot.”
Eye rolling. Snorting. Snickering.
“Oh, sure,” squawked Helen. “Do you know how fast we’d get lost?”
“You’re from Iowa,” I reminded her. “Iowans don’t get lost.”
They exchanged questioning glances with each other. “That’s right,” Dick Teig marveled. “I forgot about that.”
“Iowans don’t get lost?” George looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“George!” I scolded. “Don’t you remember navigating us single-handedly back to our hotel from the Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge in Northern Ireland?”
He regarded me blankly. “Nope.”
“I remember George doing that,” Osmond agreed. “I just don’t recall being in Ireland. Did we have a good time?”
“Hey, guys,” I asked as I