Killer WASPs by Amy Korman

Author:Amy Korman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

TEN MINUTES LATER, Waffles and I were at The Striped Awning, where we opened up the store and listened to a message from Hugh Best. He’d called the police, who told him they couldn’t do anything until Jimmy had been missing for at least seventy-­two hours, unless he had dementia, which Jimmy didn’t.

I was getting worried myself now. Where could Jimmy be? I called Hugh back and suggested that he go ahead with his only idea, which was calling Hugh’s fraternity brothers from more than fifty years ago at Prince­ton. I promised to check back in with him later.

By noon, I’d had a few customers, had vacuumed the store, and was thinking about which of my borrowed Holly dresses I could wear on my date with John Hall. I was debating the merits of a white linen sheath with a pretty ruffled neckline (Max Mara, and definitely priced well above my monthly rent on the store) vs. a little black cotton dress (deceptively simple, but made by Prada—­which meant I couldn’t even fathom what it had cost), when Bootsie suddenly appeared and plopped down in her usual seat in front of my desk.

“Bad news. Walt said the goons from Jersey haven’t been seen since they stopped by the hospital three days ago, and seafood left on someone’s doorstep isn’t something he has time to investigate. Plus he’d need more information to interview Gerda about being Barclay’s attacker,” she said. She wore a terrierlike expression, and I could only imagine her relentless hounding of poor, part-­time Officer Walt. “He said he’d look into her immigration status, but if she has a valid work visa, Barclay was probably just making idle threats to try to get Gerda to leave.” Bootsie sighed, then went on.

“So, after I met with Officer Walt, I went to my office and Googled John Hall, your veterinarian,” Bootsie said.

I was annoyed by this, yet racked with curiosity and kind of grateful. I’d thought of doing the same thing, but had decided Googling was a horrible way to approach a date. Google always brings up weird stuff. There’s a picture of me and Holly from Bootsie’s paper at a charity event that’s very high on the Google search links, and while Holly looks like Alessandra Ambrosio in it, I look like I’d forgotten to put on mascara (I had put on makeup that night, too, but not enough, apparently). After that, I started to listen to Joe more about wearing makeup and flat-­ironing my mop of long waves. It turns out the “natural look” isn’t so great after age thirty.

“And . . . John Hall got married three years ago!” Bootsie said with her usual glee at unearthing information, while my heart skipped a beat in horror. How could I have missed the clues . . . He wasn’t wearing a ring, and he seemed so honest . . .

“But, don’t worry, I asked around at the office, and he’s divorced!” Bootsie finished.

I started breathing again. Lots of ­people get divorced, and while it’s always really sad, it does happen.

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