Free Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett Page B

felt antsy. I knew better than to seek out my psychic mentor, Sophie Levin, until the wee hours; she simply was not available until then. That left me only one person I knew I could trust, and even that was tenuous.
    I sat down on the couch and once again, Herschel was there, but it wasn’t his comfort I needed. I reached for the telephone that sat on the end table.
    I dialed the number and waited to see if voice mail would pick it up.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Maggs.”
    “Oh. It’s you.” She didn’t sound angry. She didn’t sound happy, either. She sounded … indifferent?
    Okay, so we hadn’t been on the best of terms since the spring. Not that we’d fought, either. What we hadn’t done was talk much about her infidelity. I hadn’t wanted to confront her about it — just in case she decided to dump me for good, but not discussing it kept us from going back to the way things had been before her sister had instigated our breakup.
    Wasn’t it ironic? She and Brenda both had a bossy older sister, and both of them seemed content to let them rip their lives to pieces. Irene had done that last spring; Evelyn was doing it now. Were Maggie and Brenda in contact with one another, comparing notes?
    “Are you busy tonight?”
    “What did you have in mind?” Maggie asked, sounding resigned. Well, at least she hadn’t told me to fuck off.
    “I dunno. How about a pizza? I could really use some company, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with.”
    “Really?” Was that hope in her voice.
    “Yeah, really.”
    “I’d like that. Why don’t you come over around seven?”
    “I’ll be there.”
    Neither of us said good-bye. I hung up the phone and sank deeper into the back of the couch. Herschel settled onto the couch beside me in perfect contentment; I wished I could tune into that emotion with such ease.
    I hadn’t been lying to Brenda. I did have more on my mind than Da-Marr and Evelyn, and even Sam and his quest to find Morrow’s hidden millions. I hadn’t called an allergist. I suppose I’d have to get a referral. It might take weeks — months — before I could even get an appointment. And then there was that whole near-death thing that kept hovering at the back of my mind.
    I could have died.
    The way things were going, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
    Stop it.
    I’d had that thought far too often back in May — not my doing — and abruptly got up from the couch, startling Herschel. I stepped over to the window overlooking the driveway. The rain had started once again, pelting the glass.
    Brenda’s car rolled up the driveway and pulled up behind my car, effectively blocking me in. Da-Marr got out, his expression smug. I took a step back, not wanting him to see me, but it was already too late. He glared at me for a long moment before he turned and sauntered for the house.
    That kid gave me a very bad feeling, and it had nothing to do with psychic insight.
    The better part of Richard’s day had been spent on the telephone dealing with insurance agents who shunted him from one department to the next. But when he’d set the receiver down for the last time, it had been after a conversation with the claims adjustor who’d just finished assessing the damage to the still-unchristened Betsy-Ruth. He liked the name. He was really going to enjoy that boat, or at least if Brenda finally came to like the boat he’d be better able to enjoy it.
    He’d planned to pour a celebratory Scotch in the solitude of his study — that is until Brenda dragged him into the kitchen while Evelyn prepared dinner. While Brenda hadn’t said so, he could tell Evelyn’s presence had completely unnerved her. But there was something else going on with her, and he knew they weren’t likely to discuss it in front of their houseguests.
    Richard poured himself a drink and settled at the table next to Brenda while Evelyn yammered on about the difficulties in raising the funds for a new roof for her church. Richard had a