Page 12 of Road Queens
“Yes, ma’am.” Some people might want to fuck with an armed pregnant woman. Sean Beane was not one of them. He jumped ahead and pulled the door open for Cassandra. “After you, Ms.Rivers.”
“Oh, stop it.” But she walked through. And he’d take what he could get.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Well, that was dramatic,” Amanda observed. She paused to take another sip of her iced tea, then added, “Also, why does Cass think that vaguely soup-flavored water is soup?”
“Let’s focus on one disaster at a time.”
“That better not be a segue into my lack of love life.”
“It’s not, Amanda. Like I give a shit you haven’t gotten laid in the last few months?”
“Er, yes, ‘months.’ Sure, sure.”
“Don’t expect me to feel bad for you. Thanks to your bi energy, you’ve got twice the dating pool to draw on than I do. And technically I’m off the market.”
“Technically” was dead right. Sidney’s grifter spouse had wedded and bedded her, then promptly went on the run. But as the lady herself said, one disaster at a time.
They had fallen into old habits the way people slid into old jeans: they didn’t have to think about it. So they’d left the precinct, Amanda on her bike and Sidney in her minivan, went right for Muddy Waters, ordered their respective meals, and took them to Prescott’s Freedom Park. Though the thought of sucking down deep-fried cheese curds at 11:00 a.m. left Sidney feeling somewhat unwell, it was, as Amanda pointed out, lunchtime somewhere.
“Should we get her a lawyer? Or a CAT scan?” Amanda had temporarily abandoned her curds and was poking through the onion rings. The Muddy did ’em right—thin slices of ripe, battered sweet onions flash fried in boiling vegetable oil, then fished out, sprinkled with sea salt, and served smoking hot. Teeny-tiny mouth blisterers: the calling card of the perfect onion ring. “The only lawyer I know is the one who handled her parents’ will after her dad was killed. I don’t even know if she’s still practicing.”
“I’m not sure. This is happening irritatingly fast. Isn’t that the way it is? Quiet winter, dull spring, a snooze of a Met Gala, and now we can watch Fourth of July fireworks while our friend is neck-deep in a murder investigation.” Sidney took a bite, chewed, and then: “CAT scan?”
“Murdering someone you’ve never met sounds a smidge unhinged, Sidney.”
“Obviously, they’ve got the wrong person.”
“Yep, yep, sure. Cass would nevereverbe moved to a killing rage for any reason. And she definitely doesn’t have a documented history of assault. Or triggers. Or a criminal record.”
Sidney dug into the Muddy Waters salad: everything in the fridge thrown in a bowl and topped with grilled chicken and house-made ranch. And she took a swig of ginger beer. Not sickeningly sweet ginger ale.Beer.“What’s your point? That she killed a guy she never met?”
“I have two points. One, I don’t think she killed Franklin Donahue, whoever that is. Two, an accused murderess is coming up behind you.”
“You should narrow that down. This town is a haven for sociopaths.” Sidney turned in time to see their lanky erstwhile pal heading for their picnic table. “Hey. You should’ve waited until the sun was at your back. Way more impressive.”
Cass checked her (typical) stride, then just stood there and fidgeted (atypical). “You guys left so quick, I wasn’t sure ...”
“What? That we wouldn’t remember your weird penchant for dinner for breakfast? That’s just silly.” Amanda ate four more onion rings(“Ow,ow! Hot.”) while simultaneously picking up a grease-spotted lunch bag and waving it at Cass.
“I didn’t anticipate this,” Sidney admitted.
Amanda gave her second-oldest friend a look. Why Sidney made a habit of downplaying her fine brain she would never understand. Bad enough she hid her intellect with profanity (when you call a defrocked priest a “limp-dick motherfucker,” some people assume you’re not bright). “Sure you did. You’re the one who reminded me Cass likes extra onions and tomatoes with her beef tips, because she’s a weirdo.”
“Oh, look who’s talking.”
“Shush, Cass. And can I say it’s hilarious that you still do the whole dinner-for-breakfast thing? The bar didn’t have French onion soup this early, sorry. Oh. Almost forgot.” Amanda handed over the last bag, which was Cassandra’s first course: a piece of cheesecake the size of a brick.
“You’re out?” Sidney was still goggling. “They just let you go?”
“No one ‘let’ me go. Well, maybe that guy.” Cass jerked a thumb over her shoulder while taking a seat at the picnic table. Amanda craned to see around her and saw the yummy peace officer who should change his name before he got killed in “Baelor.” “And he gave me a ride.”
“He’s back?” Amanda lowered her voice. “He was staring at me the whole time in the cop shop, and now he’s here. Staring! Again!”
Sidney grimaced. “Stop, you’re getting shrill. Which is a good trick when you’re whispering.”
“He’s staring at me like he thinks I’m a criminal mastermind. Isn’t that the cutest?”
