Dead Ringer Read Free Page A

up.
    She felt faint. She went into the restroom, splashed water on her face, then faced herself in the mirror. She closed her eyes and all of a sudden she was back in Borneo, the green jungle grabbing at her as she drove, foot on the floor with Sara shouting, telling her the road went left. Maggie cranked the wheel and saw the boy. She jerked the car to the right, lost control and the car slid into the child, killing him instantly. And she’d come apart. That was her last race. She’d walked away from the sport and now Sara, her navigator, was famous, one of the top drivers in a worldwide sport dominated by men, while Maggie worked at a magazine that wrote about it.
    Nick, who at first loved the idea of being married to a race car driver, was glad she’d quit. He confessed to her that toward the end he’d been worried sick every time she shipped her car off to some exotic location. Well, he didn’t have to worry on that score anymore. Since that day, she hadn’t even driven above the speed limit and she probably never would again.
    She’d told Ron racing was wrecking her marriage and he’d hired her on the spot. Her writing was good and she got along well with everybody at the magazine. They were a family, but at times she envied Sara. She’d been putting off doing the interview, not wanting to admit to herself that Sara was the star now, but those feelings didn’t seem to matter anymore, not with the baby coming.
    Back at the bar, she saw Richard drop a couple of Buds in front of a young couple who looked like they’d just come in off the tennis court. They were sitting close, touchy feely, the way young lovers are. It had been a long time since she’d been like that with Nick in a public place.
    Nick, what was he up to? He was an anchorman, not an investigative reporter. Maggie pictured the redhead. Nick said she had the fire. What did he mean by that? Maggie sipped at the drink. Bacardi Select, like butterscotch floating in Coke. Then she looked up, saw her reflection in the long mirror behind the bar. God, she looked awful. She fought tears. What in the world had she been thinking? How could she ever have doubted Nick? She was the one who’d had the affair. The one who got pregnant. The one who was going to kill her baby.
     
    * * *
    Horace Nighthyde saw the sign above the door. “Millie’s Coffee Shop.”
    “ Come on.” He squeezed Virgil’s elbow, pointed him to the door. “We can’t stand out here forever.” The woman had just gone into the restaurant type bar across the street. They could sit and watch from a window table. Horace needed time to think, time to deal with Virgil, time to get himself together.
    Inside the coffee shop, he took a quick look around. The place had an early American decor. The kind of restaurant that served biscuits and gravy for breakfast, more at home in New Orleans than Long Beach, but here it was, complete with waitresses in red gingham dresses. He saw a vacant booth by the window and went to it. Virgil slid in opposite him.
    “ Can I help you?” The waitress dropped menus on the table. Her silver hair was tinted with a blue rinse.
    “ Coffee,” Horace said.
    “ Yeah, coffee.” Virgil always ordered what Horace did, decisions made his head hurt.
    “ And two of these.” Horace pointed to a picture of a burger and fries on the laminated menu.
    “ What are you looking at?” Horace said as the waitress made her way to the lunch counter.
    “ Nothing.” Virgil took his eyes away from the waitress’s ass. Horace wondered if he’d ever had sex. Most likely not. For a second he wanted to ask, but he was afraid it would confuse Virgil and that was the last thing Horace wanted to do right now.
    He looked out the window. He had a clear view of the entrance to the Menopause Lounge on the other side of the street. The thought of doing her made him want to puke. He couldn’t get those haunting blue eyes out of his mind. He had to do it eventually. He knew that. But it