Confessions of a Red Herring by Dana Dratch

Author:Dana Dratch [Dratch, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781496716569
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-04-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Way out in the Virginia ’burbs, the Starbucks took up one end of a strip mall that included a pizza place, a Thai restaurant, a nail salon, and a karate studio. A drive-through cleaner occupied the other corner.

I cruised through the parking lot, curious whether I’d be able to spot which was Ellen Piper’s car.

My pick: a blue Corolla so old that the paint was fading in patches. Two worn bumper stickers were plastered to the back fender: “Lafayette Elementary School PTA Boosters” and “The American Lung Association: It’s a matter of life and breath.”

From the look of it, the Pipers had been barely scraping by for a long time. How desperate were they now? Could Alan Piper have visited Coleman to try to win back his old job? Or in a last-ditch effort to stop the blackballing?

What would Piper have done if Coleman refused? Or, more likely, if Coleman just laughed off the whole thing as a good joke?

I could have walked through that door blindfolded, and still known exactly where I was. It smelled like every Starbucks everywhere. Delicious.

The lunch rush was over, so the place was nearly empty.

The heavyset barista—who went about six feet, and sported blue bangs, a gold brow piercing, and a sparse soul patch—didn’t look like an “Ellen.”

In the back, a small, thin, harried-looking woman with close-cropped, mousy brown hair was wiping down tables. Bingo.

“I’ll have two medium mocha lattes,” I said.

I love the coffee. But memo to HQ: that “tall,” “grande,” “venti” stuff isn’t fooling anybody.

“Whipped cream?” the barista asked.

“Definitely.”

If I was splurging five dollars for a cup of chocolate coffee, I wanted my money’s worth.

I paid and stuffed another fiver into the tip box. The gold piercing went up an inch.

Two minutes later, I grabbed my coffees and headed for a table in the back.

“Ellen?”

The woman whipped around, surprised. She wore little makeup. But professional stage pancake couldn’t have camouflaged the deep, dark circles under her eyes.

“Do I know you?”

“I used to work for the same company as your husband. I was wondering if we could talk for a minute.” I held out one of the coffees.

She just stared at me.

“Mocha latte,” I said. I’ve heard there are women who don’t like chocolate. But I’ve never met any.

“You work at Coleman & Walters?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Fired. Last week.”

“Justin, I’m taking my break now,” she shouted to the barista, finally taking the cup from my hand.

From the register, Justin waved.

She sank into one of the chairs and took a sip of coffee. I popped the lid off mine and proceeded to eat the whipped cream.

“Have you got a lawyer?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“We tried that. But we had to let him go. He said we had a good case, but we couldn’t afford him. And even if we could have gone the contingency route, Alan’s heart wasn’t in it.”

“My brother’s paying for mine. I couldn’t have swung it, otherwise.”

She nodded.

“We had a little money in savings, at first. Too much to qualify for legal aid.

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