The Dead-End Job Mysteries Box Set 1 by Elaine Viets

Author:Elaine Viets [Viets, Elaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781625674821
Publisher: JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2020-04-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Millicent was saved. Helen was not.

Her job was safe, but how long would she have it if the cops arrested her for murder? Helen felt a sick, twisty feeling. She’d been inside a women’s prison, all cinder block and steel. She’d talked to her best friend through a Plexiglas partition. Helen couldn’t bring her flowers, chocolate, or comfort. She’d watched her wither away in jail.

I have to get help, Helen thought. I can’t do this by myself. I’m too scared to think straight. Peggy was at work. Margery was wrapped up in Warren. And Phil. She didn’t want to think who Phil was wrapped up in. Helen sneaked back to the shop’s office and called the one friend who helped her see problems clearly.

“Helen!” Sarah said. “What’s happening?” She sounded cheerful, but then she had a home office overlooking the beach.

“Lots of things,” Helen said. “None of them good.”

“Then we need to meet,” Sarah said. “When can you do lunch?”

“Tomorrow is my day off.” Helen said those words with satisfaction. A few hours ago, she’d been facing a permanent unpaid vacation.

“Wear black,” Sarah said. “We’re going to South Beach.”

“I’ve never seen you in anything but bright colors,” Helen said.

“I don’t want to be mistaken for a beach ball.”

Sarah was a woman of size. Helen couldn’t imagine her any other way. She had a Kewpie-doll face and energetic brown curls. She also had a shrewd money sense. Sarah had made a fortune in Krispy Kreme doughnuts and adult diaper stock.

That was why she picked up Helen the next afternoon in a green Range Rover. Helen settled into the luxurious leather seats with an appreciative sigh. The bridal-shop van had all the comfort of a welfare office.

As Helen’s guts knotted into a rope, she tried to pretend she was going to South Beach on a sunny day. She soon ran out of chitchat. The traffic was the only subject left.

“Is this a street or a parking lot?” Helen said, as they crawled along Ocean Drive. “We’ve gone one block in the last five minutes.”

“It’s South Beach in the season,” Sarah said. Suddenly she swung into a side street and pulled the SUV sharply to the curb.

Helen gripped the armrest to keep from sliding sideways. “What happened?”

“A miracle,” Sarah said. “I’ve found a parking space near the restaurant.”

“Where are we going?” Helen said.

“To the closest thing South Beach has to a shrine: The News Cafe.”

Inside were tables, a newsstand, and a bookstore that catered to the crowd who read Thoreau for fun. Outside was a sidewalk cafe with a breathtaking view of the beach beauties. Thongs and Thoreau were an unbeatable combination.

Sarah and Helen felt doubly lucky when they spotted an empty table outside under a green umbrella.

“Is this where Versace went before he was gunned down?” Helen said.

“Such a shame,” Sarah said. “It wasn’t fair to him or the restaurant.”

Helen wondered if Versace had once warmed her seat. It was the closest she’d ever get to his clothes.

She was dining with the rich and beautiful.

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