Page 13 of Drop Dead
That was clear enough, and he avoided looking at Nadine’s face as they obeyed, moving off the property in tandem since neither of them was willing to leave first.
“That couldn’t have gone worse for you,” she said happily.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” He’d kill her with kindness, but Nadine refused to die.
“Your flowers make her gate look like a roadside shrine, by the way.”
“They do not.” He couldn’t help but glance back to see the bouquet slide down to lie at the bottom, needing only some pillar candles and a stuffed animal to complete the picture. “Shit.”
She smiled, and Wes didn’t want to explore how that made him feel. Before their antagonism had exploded, he’d liked when Nadine’s smile was aimed at him and to see the pretty dimple in her cheek.
“Better luck next time, Chen,” she called from her car, not missing a chance to rub it in.
He watched her leave. There was no point pressing the intercom, because despite being sent away, his gut told him Voline saw this as a bit of fun. He supposed it eventually got boring splashing around in swimming pools of money.
Then again, she told Nadine to leave the chocolates. It could be that Voline was simply curious about their aphrodisiac qualities, if the reaction they caused in Nadine was anything to go on, but it could be more than that. Perhaps Voline was an old and sick woman desperately seeking amusement and distraction after being confronted with death. She might not mind them coming by.
He got into his car and tapped his fingers on the wheel. He suspected Nadine wanted more than to give Voline an apology. She could have emailed that or left a voice message. She must have seen that comment too, and it piqued her interest.
He drove past Drake’s house, which was twice the size of Voline’s and about half as interesting. If talking to Voline for his story and finding out the details of the controversy—which since yesterday had been enhanced by the intense desire to frustrate and eventually best Nadine—meant being entertaining, he would do what it took.
That scandal story was going to be his.
***
“Pizza?” Nadine frowned at the greasy box as Wes walked up with the aplomb of a waiter at a Michelin-starred restaurant. She herselfclutched a white plastic bag stacked with takeout containers from a place that had the menu written in chopstick font. It was the kind of Chinese restaurant her mother had always refused to set foot in despite Nadine’s childhood pleading, insisting on going to Chinatown to meet Pohpoh for what she called real dim sum.
Today, she’d also grabbed a few chicken balls for herself because the thick fried batter was like a drug. She licked her lips and tried to ignore how Wes stared at her, the same way he had when she’d baited Voline with the chocolate yesterday. Had he never seen a woman eat?
“The cheesiest pizza I could find,” he said. “Chinese?”
“Chicken balls with red sauce, egg rolls, and special fried rice.”
To her surprise, Wes laughed. She’d forgotten they’d occasionally amused each other before Wes had shown his true colors. “Looks like we’re closing in on her tastes.”
“Oh, trust me.” Nadine pulled out her pièce de résistance, a box of generic white wine. “I’ve got the winner here.”
Her triumph lasted only seconds because Wes gave her a big smile. “Good try, but I have the advantage.” From behind his back, he pulled out…Nadine squinted.
“Is that a milkshake? I love milkshakes.” Sometimes she dreamed Shamrock Shakes were on the full-time menu.
“I know. You used to bring a Hudson’s cookies and cream one to class every Wednesday. I don’t know how you drank them. Milkshakes are disgusting.”
“Yet you hold one in your hand.”
“Because Voline will love it. This is a chocolate malt milkshake from a diner that makes them the same way they did in the 1960s.” He turned it around as if admiring his own ingenuity. “I brought it in a cooler.”
Damn, and she’d been so proud of her wine box.
The food proved to be no more of a key to unlocking Dot Voline than the chocolates or flowers. She sent them away after asking if they were trying to turn her obituary into a prognostication. “Death by acidreflux is such a mundane way to give up the ghost,” said Voline’s gruff voice through the intercom. “Take it with you. All of it.”
Nadine sat in her car eating the special fried rice out of the container—no point letting it go to waste—and debated her next move as she tried not to cut her mouth on the sharp edges of the plastic spoon. Across the street, Wes sat in his own car, a triangle of pizza hanging from his hand. It looked tasty. She could trade him an egg roll for a slice or maybe that milkshake he hated. As she was about to lower the window, Wes turned and saw her. He lifted that lovely milkshake to take a long pull on the straw, looking her straight in the eyes as he grimaced at the taste.
Be that way. She’d keep the egg rolls.
***
“We haven’t digitized those materials yet,” said the librarian as he led Nadine into the elevator and down to a space with the ambiance of a wartime bunker. “I can show you the old articles we clipped from papers and the microfiche.”
