Obsession, Deceit And Really Dark Chocolate. Kyra Davis
sparkling silver clippers. “I saw her interviewed on Channel Two Morning News….”
“Didn’t you tell me last month that you were going to start dedicating your mornings to reading your favorite authors?” I asked.
“That was the plan, but somebody absconded with my Lee Nichols book before I had a chance to read it.”
I winced. “I guess I told you I was going to return that last week, huh?”
“Yes, you did, and I’m very cross about it. But back to Anne. I saw the interview, and girlfriend’s definitely on the paranoid side. She was complaining about being mistreated by the media, which you know is just another way of saying that she wants to control the media. Also, Stalin paid lip service to the teachings of Lenin, and in this interview Brooke actually quoted the lyrics of a song by Lennon from his Imagine album or something. And to top it all off, I heard that Brooke’s insurance carrier is State Farm.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Why is that important?”
“Are you kidding? Honey, where do you think Stalin sent all those poor peasants? To the State Farm!”
“Not the insurance company, you dork!”
“Still, it’s a sign.”
I watched as little snippets of my hair fell on the cream marble tile floor. “I’m going to do this, Marcus.”
He released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I continue to fool myself into believing that you’ll ever take any of the advice I give you. You wouldn’t be you if you suddenly became rational.”
“Rational? This from the man who just likened the Beatles’ lead singer to the founder of the Communist Party?”
“Johnny wrote a whole song telling people to imagine a world where there wasn’t any religion and everybody shared everything—basically just a rockin’ version of The Communist Manifesto. But seriously, I worry about you, Sophie. I hate the thought of anyone hurting even one chemically treated hair on your head.”
“I won’t get hurt. I can do this…with a little help from my friends. Can I count on you to help me with this marginally important mission?”
Marcus stopped cutting my hair and pretended to consider the question. “Will I help you put your life in danger for no good reason whatsoever? Hmm, I’m going to go with no.”
“Will you at least help me think of a reason to give Melanie for my continued involvement?”
“Tell her…oh, I know! Tell her that while Anatoly is a great P.I., he’s also a recovering alcoholic and that you need to work with him in order to make sure he stays on the sobriety wagon.”
“Hey,” I said slowly, “that’s good! But what if she talks to Anatoly about it?”
“Tell her that he just recently joined AA and that he doesn’t want anyone to know. As I see it, she’ll either fire him, in which case your revenge will be taken care of and you can relax, or she’ll ask you to keep tabs on him, which means that you’ll have to stay on the case, which is what you claim is your unconscious desire.”
“Marcus, that’s genius!”
“Of course it is. My smile isn’t the only reason they call me brilliant.”
The minute I left Ooh La La I was on the phone to Melanie. It was surprisingly easy to convince her of Anatoly’s alcoholism and it wasn’t much harder to get her to agree to my continued participation in the investigation. I suspected that she had hired Anatoly out of guilt. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of putting me at risk by asking me to investigate a murder. But guilt aside, I think deep down she wanted me to be involved. Melanie was a private person, and furthermore she wanted people to think fondly of her deceased husband. She knew that if Anatoly or I discovered information that would cast Eugene in a negative light, I would do everything in my power to make sure that information stayed out of the papers, even if that meant withholding information regarding a criminal act from the police. Perhaps Anatoly would do the same without my urging, but she didn’t know that.
So, as far as I was concerned, it was a win-win. I could help a woman in need while simultaneously sticking it to my chauvinistic ex. I was certain that Ms. magazine would be proud.
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