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“Ooh, yes, Jack.” She’s temporarily distracted. “When do I get to meet this husband of yours?”
“I don’t know,” I say flatly. I’m irritated with my friend for even asking about Ian and me. Sure, Stella has always been more casual about…things than me, but I thought she respected–or at least knew– where I stood on the topic of romance. Namely, that I’m saving sex for marriage.
My gaze hitches on the diamonds around my ring finger, reminding me that technically my saving days are over. My cheeks flame at this thought and I start up with another coughing fit.
Jack cannot read your mind, I remind myself as he starts thumping me on the back.
“Nora, are you okay?” he asks in concern, breaking his silence in response to my continued coughing.
“Oh my goshshsh,” Stella exclaims, stretching out the end of the word. “Is that Jack I hear? Hi, Jack! I’m Stella! Your wife’s work friend. Speaking of work–I know your wife currently covers the geriatric route, so she probably doesn’t have any sample pills you might need…hopefully,” she adds with a wicked laugh, “but I work the dermatology route which has a much wider scope. I’m not technically saying that I could hook you up, but if you do find yourself with any dermatological needs you know where to go.”
“Stella!” I exclaim, my coughing fit mercifully over.
“Kidding!” she cries. “Gosh, you’re so touchy today, Nora. Sorry, Jack. I can’t actually give you samples, since that would be super illegal. I was trying to test you, make sure you were worthy of my girl Nora, but clearly I offended Nora’s scruples in the process. Don’t you just love what a good human she is?”
This is so Stella. Right when I’m wondering why I’m even friends with her, she turns around and says something sweet like that.
“She’s the best human I know,” Jack says into the phone. My head whips over to him, certain I’ll find him winking at me or giving me some other nonverbal clue that he’s saying that for Stella’s benefit, and it's not how he truly feels. Instead he’s simply staring at me, and the soft look in his eyes makes my stomach tip.
“Awww,” Stella squeals. “What a line. Are you a writer or something?”
“Uh no,” Jack replies. Considering Stella’s clear lack of concern for privacy, it’s not surprising that he doesn’t offer up his real career.
“You’re not a doctor are you? Because Nora never mentioned meeting any cute doctors on her route. And I tell you what, I swear half the women working here are on the prowl for cute doctors. Probably because Cleo can’t shut up about her doctor husband. Gives them all unrealistic expectations.”
“I’m definitely not a doctor,” Jack tells her with a glance my way. I blush for no reason at all.
“Tell me, Jack,” Stella moves on to the next topic, “what are you planning to do about the fact that a dead body was found on your wife’s front lawn?”
“Former front lawn,” Jack corrects. “She’s moving in with me.”
“Of course,” Stella says dismissively. “But still…aren’t you upset? Somebody was murdered on her front lawn! What if they were after her? We need to investigate! The police seem to think someone here might have done it, but I’ll tell you what–my money is on his wife. She hired a private eye to spy on him, you know that?”
“Wait, what?” Jack straightens, eyes now focused on the phone. “Connie Wharfman hired a private eye to spy on her husband?”
“Well, sort of,” Stella says with a little laugh. “Frank isn’t technically a private eye, but for all intents and purposes that’s what Connie was using him as. It worked out well because Frank was already here so much of the time working as a security guard.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I interject. “Why would Frank do that? He loved Ian Wharfman.”
“Hmmm,” Stella hums. “I don’t know. I guess his allegiances changed, because he definitely was spying on Ian for Connie.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” Jack asks.
“Simple. Nora, do you remember how Frank accidentally got into my car last week?”
I nod, then realize belatedly that she can’t see me and say, “Yes, of course.”
“Well, he didn’t just leave his spilled coffee behind,” Stella dangles this carrot, obviously enjoying being the owner of such juicy information. This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in such a situation with Stella and usually I’d tease her a little bit by acting like I don’t care what information she has, but today I care way too much about this information to play games. So I bite her dangled carrot without further overtures.
“What else did he leave?”
“A picture,” she reveals dramatically. “It must’ve fallen out of a file or something because they found it under my seat when I took my car in to be cleaned post coffee spill.”
“What was it a picture of?” Jacks asks.
“Ian, of course, with another woman.” Stella is still enjoying the dramatics of this whole affair—no pun intended. “It looked exactly like those pictures you see on TV, you know the ones PI’s take where the focus is zoomed in on the couple in question doing something…illicit.” She pauses. “Thankfully Ian was only kissing Cleo in the picture,” she finishes.
“Cleo?” I exclaim. “Ian was kissing Cleo?” Nausea churns in my stomach as I think about Ian telling me I could have the promotion Cleo and I were both vying for if I slept with him. Had he made the same promise to Cleo but with different results? A shudder runs through me and again Jack is there, this time simply giving my hand a comforting squeeze.
