Free A Bad Day for Sorry: A Crime Novel by Sophie Littlefield Page A

don’t ever let anyone in here without me saying so. And if you ever see anyone hanging around, you go straight home and lock your doors and don’t be coming over here until you see me back here in person.”
    “Christ! Okay, okay,” Todd said. When she released his arm he rubbed at it and glared at her. “Isn’t it almost dinnertime, anyway? Maybe we should skip the snack and have pizza or something.”
    Stella stared at the boy, shaking her head slowly. “Your mom get hung up late again?”
    “Yeah, she called. She’s got to pick up the twins at day care so she won’t be back for another hour at least.”
    “What’s for dinner?” Chrissy said, her voice sleepy. “And did you find anything out yet?”
    Stella looked at the pair of them, back and forth, and wondered why the Big Guy had seen fit to deliver these pathetic, hungry souls to her house, when all she wanted was to put herfeet up and fix herself a giant Johnnie Walker Black on ice. Well, there was no rest for the weary, was there?
    “Papa Martino’s,” she said. “You call ’em, Todd. Coupon’s on the fridge. Get a large. Half combo and half whatever you want. Oh, get a dozen wings too, extra spicy.”
    “Fuckin’ A!”
    “And watch your damn mouth!”
     
    While they waited for the pizza, Todd went back out on the driveway to flip his lanky, awkward body over the skateboard some more.
    “I believe I’ll go watch him some,” Chrissy said, rolling forward off the couch. “He’s something to see, ain’t he?”
    “Hold up there just a sec, hon,” Stella said, settling down on the ottoman. “I’ve got something to ask you. Something of a personal nature.”
    “Sure,” Chrissy said, bobbing her chin.
    “It has to do with your ex,” Stella said carefully. “Pitt . . .”
    “Oh,” Chrissy said, her face going a little pale. “It’s that damned Internet, ain’t it.”
    “The . . . Internet?”
    “I tol’ Pitt don’t be takin’ them dirty pictures, seein’ as they always end up on the Internet.”
    “Pitt . . . took pictures of you?’
    “Yeah, dirty ones.” Chrissy sighed. “I didn’t mention it ’cause I didn’t figure it was, you know, important. And it ain’t, neither—if I get Tucker back I guess I don’t even care what-all anyone wants to put on the Internet about me.”
    “Um . . . were these, ah, recent pictures?”
    Chrissy shrugged. “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean it was like, I don’t know, March probably.”
    “You’ve been seeing Pitt.”
    Chrissy shrugged. “Not regular or anything. Just, you know, sometimes.”
    Stella heaved a sigh. “You know, back when you first came to talk to me, I told you that I had to know everything. Remember? Don’t leave anything out, I told you, because every detail counts, even the ones that might not seem important at the time. Well, I surely wish I wasn’t only finding out about Pitt now.”
    “I’m sorry,” Chrissy said, staring down at her hands. “It’s just . . . I didn’t want you to think I was . . .”
    She swallowed and Stella could see her eyelashes fluttering.
    “. . . a slut,” she finished in a whisper.
    Stella’s annoyance shrank up to see the girl so remorseful. “Oh, wait, I’m not trying to judge here. I don’t think that, I really don’t. Only, it’s been suggested that, uh, Pitt was the one who hurt you.”
    “Pitt?” The tremulous note in Chrissy’s voice gave way to a snort of disbelief. “Pitt ain’t but five foot three on a good day and a hunnert twenty. ’Sides, he wouldn’t never hurt me. He’s crazy about me. We’d prob’ly still be married if I hadn’t taken up with his boss.”
    Stella nodded, trying to assimilate all these new details. “How’d Pitt feel about Roy Dean? And Tucker?”
    “Well, he pretty much hated Roy Dean,” Chrissy said. “Always threatening to come to the house one day and blow him away. And Tucker—well, he thinks Tucker might be his, even though I’ve told him a million