Free Bedeviled Eggs by Laura Childs Page A

but...” She knew she was sputtering now. “Peebler
was running for office! He was on the ballot to be mayor of Kindred!”
    “Interesting, huh?”
said Toni.
    “And if
you can believe the straw poll that the Bugle conducted,” said Suzanne, “Peebler
was even showing a slight lead over Mayor Mobley.” She inclined her head to ward Kit. “You sure about this?”
    Kit nodded. “Oh yeah.”
    “Kit’s
not making this up,” said Toni. “She wouldn’t do that.”
    “You’d
think Peebler would have been a whole lot more careful,” said Suzanne, “considering
Hoobly’s is a fairly public place. That he would have toed the line and con ducted himself with a little more dignity.”
    “It sure
isn’t dignified to chase girls half your age,” agreed Toni.
    “You got that right”
said Kit “but the thing is, Peebler went beyond that. He was... creepy. Always sitting
at the
edge of the stage, flashing a wad of cash, trying to, you know, tantalize the girls
with what he thought was his power and magnetism. Then he’d hang out by the
dressing rooms,
trying to grab a look-see, always talking a steady stream of patter. A little nasty,
a whole lot aggressive.”
    “You could knock me
over with a feather right now,” said Suzanne. Peebler had been a card-carrying member of the Methodist
church. He’d served on the school board. True, he was a single man, but he’d
always acted conservative. Looked conservative in his JCPenney suits.
Had prob ably voted
Republican, too.
    “Tell her the rest,”
Toni urged, polishing off the last of her wine.
    “There’s more?” said
Suzanne.
    Kit glanced about
nervously. Baxter, seeming to sense her unease, pulled himself up and padded over to
her. Kit draped
an arm around Baxter’s furry neck and continued, as if heartened by his display
of doggy solidarity. “And the really weird thing,” continued Kit, “is that Peebler
had pretty
much singled out one girl as his ... favorite.”
    “You?” Suzanne asked,
fearing the worst.
    Kit gave
a vehement shake of her head. “No, not me, thank goodness.”
    Suzanne pursed her
lips together. “So what exactly are you saying? That Chuck Peebler had been stalking
one girl in particular?
Harassing her?”
    “Harassing,” said Kit.
“Yes, I’d say that pretty much hits the nail on the head. Peebler would tail her to
her car, try ing to put his hands all over her. Made overt suggestions that they hook up.”
Kit let loose a deep and heavy sigh.
    With her
fortysomething years of experience behind her, Suzanne wanted to say, What
did you expect would happen out there? You gals are dancing under red lights
in your Victoria’s Secret underwear? But she didn’t. This wasn’t the
time or the place to deliver a lecture.
    “So what’s the bottom
line on this?” Suzanne asked. “Are you saying that this girl might have despaired of
Pee bler’s unwanted attention
and taken matters into her own hands? That she killed Peebler?” Just
verbalizing the notion sounded awfully crazy to her.
    “Or maybe her jealous husband did,” Toni
muttered.
    “What particular dancer are we talking
about?” asked Suzanne. So far, no names had been mentioned, but she knew there
had to be at least a dozen different girls who performed on Hoobly’s red-lit
stage. All of whom must have acquired a
certain patina of toughness by now.
    Toni and Kit glanced nervously
at each other. Silence hung heavy between them.
    “You guys drove all
the way over here just to drink wine and clam up?” Suzanne asked, putting a little
extra oomph in her voice.
    Kit dropped her head
forward, her fine blond hair drap ing across her face. “Okay,” she said. “It was Sasha.”
    “Sasha,” said Suzanne, not recognizing the
name. “I don’t think I know her.”
    “That’s ‘cause you don’t go to Hoobly’s,”
said Toni.
    “That’s right,” Suzanne agreed. “And
neither should either of you ...” She caught herself. “However, that’s a
discussion better left