Then he expressed his gratitude and got off the phone.
I looked at Memphis and stated, “First, we’re searching every inch of this house to look for evidence those two creeps wanted to knock me off to collect the insurance and then we’re turning on the computer and then we’re calling up a map of the world and then we’re pointing at it, or I am, since you can’t, and then we’re planning my vacation to wherever my finger lands.”
Memphis yapped her agreement to this plan.
“Unless I don’t hit somewhere in The States,” I warned. “If I pick Okinawa, you’ll probably have to go stay with Mom and Dad while I go off and enjoy Cooter’s wife-killing money.”
Memphis yapped again and her cute, little, brown and white body shook with her tail wags.
She loved my Mom.
Then again, she loved everyone.
So much, it didn’t even seem like she noticed Cooter was gone. No staring at doors. No little doggie melancholy.
But I had taken over the affection, treats, feedings and the like so she wasn’t missing out.
“You with me?” I asked even though I knew. Memphis wasn’t one for solitude. She’d be with me every step of the way.
She yapped anyway just so I knew she had my back.
I nodded.
Then I searched.
Then I found the e-mails.
My husband was so fucking dumb.
His girlfriend wasn’t much smarter.
I called Ozzie again.
He came over.
*
The next day, Vanessa came out of seclusion mostly because she had no choice and she did it in handcuffs.
While this was happening (though I didn’t know it), I was on the phone with my friend Teri who was a travel agent, booking my flights to Paris.
Chapter One
I Know You, You Know
I stood underneath it a long time, smack dab in the middle of the vast, populated space, my head tilted way back, my back arched, looking up. So long, people probably thought I was crazy. So long, I got dizzy. But I did it. And while I did it, I memorized what I saw.
Then I righted my head, turned and walked down the avenue.
I took my time.
This was because I had all the time in the world.
When I got a fair ways away, I pulled my camera out of my purse, did the head tilting, back arched thing, aimed and shot, once… an adjustment, twice… another adjustment, then a third time.
Then I looked at the display and moved through the photos I took of a nighttime, lit up, cool-as-freaking-shit Eiffel Tower.
Then I grinned and muttered, “Memphis, baby, you’re gonna like that one.”
Then I turned off my camera, tucked it in my purse, gave the Tower one last, lingering look before I moved back down the avenue to saunter the streets of Paris.
*
I stood in front of the full-length, freestanding mirror. It was oval. It had a lot of carving in the wood around it and black marks on the mirror which meant it was old and the silver was fading but it was fading in a supremely cool way.
Studying the wood, I was pretty impressed with the cleaning staff at this hotel considering there wasn’t any dust in all those grooves of the mirror. It was all glossy and gleaming. Someone had to spend a serious amount of time polishing it.
My eyes moved from the wood to me.
It was summer. My reflection showed me what I knew, I was tan. This was because, for the last three weeks, I’d spent a lot of time outside wandering the streets of Paris, Rome and Florence.
I’d also bought myself the new sundress I had on and I’d never owned anything so expensive or so exquisite.
A long time ago, Cooter decreed that all my apparel come from Target or Wal-Mart, explaining that this was all we could afford within our budget and he kind of wasn’t wrong except he didn’t get all his clothing from those places. I really didn’t mind, Target, especially, had some nice stuff.
What I minded was that Cooter also decreed anytime I bought something for me he would come along and he didn’t have a good eye to what suited me, style, fit or color. Cooter had a taste for skank so he dressed his wife like one.
I hated it.
My sundress did not say skank. Not even close.
It was kind of a salmony-peach, it had a flimsy flippy skirt that was not short but it was also not long, loads of pintuck pleats around the waistline and, at the bodice, thin straps into a halter neck. It was really kind of simple but the filmy fabric, unusual color (that went freaking great with my golden skin) and attention to detail made it super hot.
I loved it.
But I was wearing flip-flops.
They were cute flip-flops, with big, floppy flowers at the toes and they matched the dress nearly perfectly but, as my eyes slid up and down my body in the mirror, I just didn’t think they’d do.
My gaze shifted to the windows. I’d pulled open the wooden shutters practically upon waking and all you could see was the beauty of Lake Como.
Seriously. Did you wear flip-flops with an expensive sundress in a fancy hotel on Lake Como in Italy?
It was morning. I was heading to the dining room. In my world, breakfast was flip-flop territory.