Bonefire of the Vanities Read Free Page B

Booth. Marjorie left a lot of money for me to care for Pluto. I can pay the retainer with some of that. Marjorie has agreed to hire you, and she’ll be glad to see you when you find her.”
    I waved her away. While Tammy was psychic, I wasn’t certain she had a great reading of Marjorie’s desires. “Don’t be silly. Graf won’t speak to me, and I’m at loose ends. I’ll look into this. It’ll keep me from moping around and feeling sorry for myself.”
    “You and Tinkie have to figure a way to handle these cases and keep yourselves safe.”
    “That’s easier said than done.”
    Tammy’s brow furrowed. “Do you think what I’m asking you to do is dangerous?”
    I caught her hand and patted it. “Absolutely not. This looks like a little bit of legwork. I’ll find Heart’s Desire and speak to Mrs. Littlefield and make sure she’s not being rooked by con artists.”
    Tammy nodded. “That doesn’t sound dangerous, but somehow I suspect all of your past cases started out simple enough.”
    “Therein lies the rub,” I agreed. “I would never deliberately put Graf’s heart in danger. Nor would Tinkie risk her husband, Oscar’s, feelings. But things happen. Beyond our control. Graf has to accept this is who I am.” I bit my lip.
    Tammy grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Help me find Marjorie and make sure she isn’t being held hostage by con artists, I’ll work on Graf and Oscar.”
    It was a solution I hadn’t considered, but I knew it was a winner when I heard it. “You’ve got a deal.”
    “I should be going. You have company coming.”
    I was so used to Jitty’s wild predictions that I didn’t bat an eye. “How do you know?”
    “Because I can hear the car coming down the drive.” She pointed toward a curve in the driveway, and just then Harold Erkwell’s black Lexus came into view. Harold worked at the bank Tinkie’s father owned and her husband managed.
    I checked my watch. It was nine thirty in the morning. Harold should be at the bank. So what was he doing cruising down my driveway with … an evil, goateed little face in the front seat with him?
    “He’s brought Roscoe!” I had actually missed the dog that once belonged to Millicent Gentry—before she embarked on a prison sentence as her reward for a life of crime. He’d been in my care only a few weeks, but the pooch had a way of stealing one’s heart, not to mention underwear, food, shoes, garbage, and secrets.
    The car stopped, the driver’s door opened, and Roscoe leaped to the ground. He ran in frenzied circles for about thirty seconds and then dashed around the house to the doggy door. He was intent on finding Sweetie Pie for a romp.
    “Ladies,” Harold said as he joined us.
    “Taking Roscoe out for a playdate?” I couldn’t help but tease Harold. The dog was vile. In the first night he was at Harold’s house, he ate the stuffing from a leather sofa, knocked over the garbage cans all up and down Harold’s street, snatched barbecue off the grill at a neighbor’s party, and chased another neighbor’s cat up a tree. Harold had done nothing but bail Roscoe out of trouble ever since the dog arrived in his life. Yet Harold adored the creature.
    “Indeed, Sarah Booth. The furniture store is delivering a new sofa, and I was hoping you could keep Roscoe for a few hours. At this point, I’m afraid he’ll bite the delivery man and the weight of his misdeeds will put him on doggy death row.”
    I had to laugh, and after days of self-pity, it felt good. “I’ll keep him.”
    “You can bring him home this evening, or I’ll stop by and get him. He adores riding in the car.”
    “And ice cream from the Sweetheart drive-through.”
    Harold wasn’t even ashamed. “Yes, he loves those soft cones of vanilla. We go every evening.”
    “Harold, if you ever have children, you’ll be a pushover.”
    “Right now, Roscoe is all I need. But I have to say, Sarah Booth, he’s brought great adventure into my life. I