Page 118 of Road Queens
“And yet you didn’t use any of it to hire Sean,” Amanda teased.
“Well, I did,” Sidney said. “Touched the money, I mean. Paid off my school loans and my van, put a down payment on my house.”
“Good. She didn’t leave it to us just so it would sit in a money market account.”
“No, she left it to us to spite the fucko she married. Which was awesome,” Sidney said, “if I haven’t made that clear. Ha, he was so mad!”
The memory made Amanda smile. Jonny Frank had lunged at the three of them when he found out the woman he’d foully murdered hadn’t left him a cent. His shriek when Cass cracked his patella could have been a hymn; it was such a joyous sound to their ears.
“So I was thinking maybe we could ... start something? A charity or whatever? The three of us?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep asking me why I’m in it? And are you willing to stick around?” Amanda asked. “In the spiritual sense. Not necessarily literal.”
“Well, shit, we thought you’d never ask!”
Sidney’s being a bit liberal with “we.”But Amanda didn’t feel like saying anything that might trash the mood. “I’m on board. And whatever new project we’re going to start together, if we need a reasonably priced private investigator, I know the perfect guy.”
“We won’t,” Sidney snarked.
Sean laughed. “Ouch.”
“Almost forgot.” Amanda dug something out of her back pocket, handed it to him. “Here.”
“A new Cold Stone Creamery card!”
“Better than new, see? I’ve had it for three months, so now you only need two more punches to get a free Like It serving.” To Sidney and Cass: “He’s got this huge thing for ice cream.”
“Amanda.” Sean was staring at the card like it was one of those giant checks they make for lottery winners, then looked up at her with shining eyes. “Do you like burgundy or seafoam? You’ve seen teal, and taupe’s in the wash.”
Cass blinked. “Uh, what?”
Sean looked around. “And does anyone else smell tomato sauce?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Cass said, indicating the bag she’d brought with her.
“At eight thirty in the morning, barf.”
Cassandra shrugged, unmoved by Sidney’s revulsion. “Sean, you didn’t get into trouble or anything, right? Once Marcus was in the morgue and the cops got through all the paperwork?”
“I got chewed out but no real penalties. But at the risk of sounding like a male chauvinist oinker, I shouldn’t have let you come to the mausoleum with me.”
“‘Let.’” Sidney snickered. “Ha.”
“You guys know things could have gone off the rails, right?”
“Welcome,” Cassandra said, “to our lives.”
“So, what?” Sidney asked. “Everything’s fixed? The killer’s dead; the guy who killed the killer is dead; we’re all friends again; Amanda’s gonnahave regular sex, and I’m gonna do my best to become a widow? And we all just get on with it?”
“Nice recap. Forget about transcribing clinic notes,” Amanda suggested. “I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating: go write for the AV Club.”
Cassandra shrugged. “This is real life. Problems aren’t always solved and then neatly shelved.”
“Right? Loose ends all over the place. Like Jeff Manners. Cass still has to decide what to do with him. He wasn’t the killer, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to steal your Commando. It’s still operating a vehicle without the owner’s consent. It’s a felony, in fact.”
“That’s not a loose end. C’mere, you guys.”
She led them to the alley, and Amanda let out a squeak when she saw Cassandra’s Commando parked beside Amanda’s Triumph parked beside Sidney’s Roadster. “I had my doubts about Sonny’s security system, so I went over and liberated my bike.”
