Everywhere that Mary Went by Lisa Scottoline

Author:Lisa Scottoline [Scottoline, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Thriller, Mystery & Detective, Women Lawyers, Action & Adventure, Adventure, Crime & Thriller, Crime & Mystery
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-04-24T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

The next sound I hear is the ear-splitting buzz of my downstairs doorbell. I glance at my watch. It’s ten o’clock. I must have fallen asleep. Groggy, I get up and press the intercom button, still holding the chef’s knife. “Who is it?”

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” shouts a strong voice. Judy’s.

“Hold on.” I buzz her in and she arrives in seconds, having taken the stairs two by two, like she always does. She bangs into the apartment wearing a reinforced backpack and toting a rolled-up sleeping bag. She gasps when she sees the knife. “What the hell is that for?” she asks.

“Bad guys. Are you terrified?”

“Of you?”

“Yes, of me. Of me and my big no-joke knife.” I wave it around and she backs away.

“Watch it with that thing.”

“You ought to see what this knife can do to a piece of celery. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Is this what we’ve come to? You running around with a machete?” She kicks the door closed with the back of her running shoe and tosses the sleeping bag onto the floor, where it rolls into the couch. Alice arches her back.

“Who are you, Nanook of the North?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yeah?”

“Okay as I can be.”

“I thought so,” Judy says, frowning like a doctor confirming a child’s case of tonsillitis. “I brought something to make us feel better.” She swings the backpack off her shoulder and tugs its zipper open, walking into the kitchen. I follow her in and watch her unpack a bag of sugar, two sticks of butter, and a cellophane pack of chocolate chips.

“You left Kurt to come here and bake stuff?” I stick the knife back onto the rack.

“Not exactly. Your new boyfriend called and said you needed protection. You did use protection, didn’t you?”

I feel terrible all of a sudden. It reminds me of Brent. I flash on him that day in my office, cleaning up the coffee stain. He was so worried about me.

“What’s the matter?” Judy asks, alarmed.

“Brent, Judy. Brent.” I feel myself sag and Judy gathers me up in her strong arms. I burrow into her fuzzy Patagonia pullover, with its fresh soapy smell, and start to cry.

“I know, Mare,” she says, her voice sounding unusually small. “He was a good man. He loved you.” She hugs me closer, and I try not to feel funny about the fact that we’re two women hugging breast to breast. In fact, Judy’s squeezing me so tightly that I stumble backward, to the sound of a loudreeaow!

We both jump. I’ve crunched Alice’s tail underfoot. She hisses at me fiercely.

Judy laughs, wiping her eyes. “Fuck the cookies. Let’s bake Alice.”

I laugh too, for a long time, and it feels good, a release. We take turns drying our eyes with a roll of paper towels that has tiny daisies marching along its border. Afterward, feeling shaky and sober, we look at each other. Judy’s lips are a wavy line. “This must be how you felt after Mike, huh?” she says, leaning against the kitchen counter.

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