Page 15 of Murder By the Millions
“Oh, my,” Lillian said. “You’re having guests over to play cards. Why didn’t you say so?”
“Just Zach.”
“Ooh.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “How’s it going with you two?”
“Is she talking about Detective Armstrong?” Magda asked. “Hubba-hubba.”
I laughed. “We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh.” Lillian winked. “You keep telling yourself that.” She eyed her grandmother. “You should see the way he looks at her.” She pressed a hand to her chest and swooned. To me, she said, “Did you meet the newcomer? Jason Gardner?”
“I know Jason,” Magda chimed.
“You do?”
“I knew his parents, I should say. He was a boy at the time.” Magda didn’t live far from the Sugarbaker estate. “His parents often asked your mother to babysit him. He was quite a renegade, running hither and yon. I bet he turned into a looker.”
“He did,” Lillian said. “He came into the shop to purchase a tuxedo.”
Given his wealth and such, I couldn’t imagine he didn’t own a tuxedo, but perhaps when he left California, he’d arranged for a moving company to bring all his worldly goods, and to date nothing had arrived.
“Although, if he’s still a renegade, this would be a better choice.” Lillian pulled a striped men’s suit from the bag. It reminded me of something a gangster might wear. “I have to say he’s very natural and warm. Not at all what I’d pictured after hearing the gossips wagging their tongues.”
Like any town, Bramblewood did have its share of rumormongers.
“What have you heard?” I asked.
“He’s running from the law. He’s as broke as a skunk. He’s leveraged to the hilt. And”—she paused for effect—“he murdered his parents.”
CHAPTER4
Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.
—Nick Carraway in F. Scott Fitzgerald’sThe Great Gatsby
“Yipes,” I exclaimed.
“Yipes is right, if any of it’s true,” Lillian agreed.
Magda clucked her tongue. “Which most likely it is not.”
Jason’s supposed history made me think of Jay Gatsby and how many lies had been told about him. What was truth, and what was fiction?
Someone knocked loudly on the door. Magda gasped.
“It’s me,” Zach yelled from the porch.
Lillian said, “Relax, Nana. It’s Allie’s guest. We should go.”
“Come on in,” I called.
‘“Come on in.’ How neighborly.” Lillian tittered. “Yes, darlin’, you keep telling yourself you’re just friends.” She reinserted the suit and dress into the bag. “Swing by the shop this week so I can show you the rest.”
“Don’t rush out on account of me, Lillian,” Zach said, emerging from the foyer.
“Me rush, Detective? A lady never rushes.” She blew him an air-kiss, slung the dress bag over her arm, and sauntered out of the house, deliberately swinging her hips.
Her grandmother gave Zach a once-over, said, “Have a nice night, Detective,” and followed Lillian out.
