girl’s father lived there. She assumed the daughter might be with him.”
“I know it’s an unapproved topic, but since we’re on the subject, has Sandra ever dated since your divorce?”
“I know Ms. Prim and Proper had a fling on a beach in Mexico, in an old van, and with a Mexican. She dated a married man for a while but he ditched her as soon as he recognized her twin sister She Devil.
“When she and I married I was upset that she didn’t take my last name. Not even hyphenated. She obviously needed to hold on to her legacy of being the heir to the Vickery Pools fortune. Now I’m grateful to all the heavens that she never took my name.”
When Jessica finished the last of her green corn tamale, she stretched her arms above her head, nodding toward the pool. “How about we go skinny dipping?”
Jaxon sipped down the last of his margarita and took off his blazer. “First, you broke the rules talking about my ex, so it’s my turn.”
In response, Jessica pulled her legs up to her seat to sit Indian-style, and folded her arms against her chest, saying, “Go for it.”
“I told you our stake-out guy is off the job, at least for now. I’ve engaged someone else.”
“You told me. The author. Cassidy Clark.”
“Right. Her time is limited, but she has a team. Even though she tries to keep her identity under wraps, her reputation in town probably keeps some of our traveling criminals driving straight through the valley. She or her main sidekick, Shepard Brown, will be calling you.”
“I’m good with that. I’ve already researched her. Now, take off your pants. The water is perfect.”
TRACY MCCLENDON CALLED me on my cell as I arrived at The Dancing Saguaros to ask if I would meet her for a double-date. Actually, a triple-date.
“Because of our schedules, we need to do a brunch? Are you in, Cassie?”
“First of all, I’m not dating anyone.”
“So what. You have a few friends, don’t you?”
“A few, and you’re one of them. And why brunch?”
“Easy answer. I’m working tons of evening hours with my new position as an investigative reporter. One of our evening news anchors, Jessica Silva, and I have become close. And to boot, I’d be taking the entire top crew of reporters from the station. I’m dating one of the guys from her station. Don’t remind me what I told you about a black woman dating a white man. I’m head-over-heels for this guy and to hell with all my old taboos.
“Tohono Chul? Say ten-thirty on Sunday? They serve the meanest Eggs Benedict.”
“Good on all counts. Welcome to the 21 st century.”
SURVEILLANCE IS A necessary evil. As often as I’d assign the task to someone else, I pulled my fair share of boring hours.
Mingling near or with the suspect is another thing. My blood starts pumping faster, my senses are on steroids and my mind is crystal sharp. I can dress up and slip into full character, like when my idiot ex-husband dressed up like a gynecologist, speculum and all, and made a complete ass out of himself at a Halloween costume party.
I entered The Dancing Saguaros with my best southern drawl, ready to charm. Even if Marks had caught a glimpse of me down at the station, he would never recognize this southern belle.
The appealing dialect, or the red dress or the long red hair, did the trick. Ten minutes after finding a free table, the goofball suspect slowly meandered my way. The small slab of rough mesquite wood table I rested my elbows on felt sticky from spilt drinks. The four men and the woman who soon surrounded me didn’t seem to notice.
The woman was probably a skank like me as I presented myself. Even though she didn’t have red hair she certainly was dressed like me.
“May I buy you a drink?” the fatso with the too-short tie and crappy hat with a broken feather asked me.
“I don’t know. You can see I have a full glass on the table with another on its way from one of these guys hanging around me. Truth to tell, there are