Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [15]
“Aalia and I, we are more than the sisters.”
“Still—”
“She is my Elaine.”
I scowled.
“Elaine, your friend, if she were troubled, would you not know?”
In fact, we had proven that to be the case on more than one occasion. There was a weird connection between us. A closeness I sometimes thought I couldn’t live without. My soul mate of the wrong gender. “Yes,” I said, and quite miraculously, forgot about the lo mein.
6
Hard work and talent are all well and good, but don’t underestimate the power of trickery and deceit.
—Gregor Gooding, Elaine
Butterfield’s most
motivated agent
Minutes later when I stepped inside, my vestibule was dark. Which probably meant that Laney was home. She didn’t believe in wasting electricity. Which often meant that she also didn’t believe in light. Elaine is a tree-hugger down to the sap-sucking little roots of her being.
I turned to close the door, still carefully juggling the lo mein.
“Babekins!” someone chirped.
I screamed as I spun around. And sure enough, there was Solberg. Short, balding, and barely human, he had burrowed into my home like an unwanted boll weevil.
“What are you doing here?” I was struggling to breathe normally. He was lucky my instincts were such that protecting dinner was more important than fighting intruders.
“I came to adore my stunning bride-to-be,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, and checked the side of the bag, making sure no yummy juices had spilled.
“Why?” He grinned at me. Or maybe he had colitis. I believe the results can be similar. “Because she’s the air that I breathe. The wind beneath my wings. The light of my—”
“Try not to creep me out,” I said, and pressing past him, made my way into the kitchen.
Laney was there, setting the table. It looked as if she was just recovering from laughing at my expense. “Hard day?” she asked, far too smart to admit she habitually finds my grouchiness amusing.
“I actually thought it couldn’t get any worse,” I said, and she chuckled. Somehow my aversion to her betrothed completely failed to upset her.
“Jeen just stopped by to discuss the floral arrangements.”
“Buying the tropics, are you?”
“It is getting a little out of hand,” she admitted.
“Uh-huh. So Solberg’s leaving soon?” I tried not to sound jubilant at the idea, but I’m not much of an actress. There had been a time I could have said the same of Laney. But no more. She was now the darling of Hollywood and would start filming her first motion picture soon. But that wasn’t entirely due to her thespian skills. She was built like a fairy-dusted goddess and smart as a firecracker. Not to mention she was the most adorable person on the planet.
“Sorry I can’t stay for dinner,” Solberg said, walking into the kitchen. “But I’ve got stuff to do.”
Despite my better judgment, I glanced up at his mysterious tone. “What stuff?”
His lips jerked as his colitis acted up. “Stuff I can’t talk about when Angel’s here.”
Which meant I would never know, because I wouldn’t be caught dead alone with him. I’d made that mistake before. In fact, I had dated him once. But that was before he’d caught his first glimpse of Brainy Laney. As far as I know his jaw hasn’t been located since.
“He’s buying my wedding gift,” Laney said.
“I didn’t know there were still continents for sale,” I said. Solberg was just a little bit richer than God, which, oddly enough, had absolutely nothing to do with why Laney was marrying him. It was anybody’s guess what her mind-boggling reasons might be. But I suspect they might have had something to do with eye of newt and possible necromancy. Voodoo is still alive and well in the greater Los Angeles area.
“I’m not buying your gift,” Solberg said.
Laney and I looked at each other. She shrugged. He grinned.
“I gotta go,” he said.
I turned away as he kissed Laney’s cheek. Why spoil my appetite now?
The door closed behind him.
“You really don’t know what he’s getting you?” I asked.
“Not a clue,” she said, and reached up to fetch the glasses from the top shelf. She was wearing green canvas shorts she had gotten from Goodwill in junior high.