Crowned and Moldering

As usual, Whitney was overdressed for the job, in stilettos, ski

I glanced down at my own casual outfit and gave a mental shrug. What could I say? This was my daily uniform.

“You look great, by the way,” Brad said, gri

I beamed at him. “Thanks, Mr. Jones.” He had just earned my lifelong gratitude.

I watched Whitney seethe, and beamed even more.

Sadly, though, she wasn’t about to stomp away from the best-looking man in the building. And even though my stomach was starting to growl from hunger, I didn’t want to leave him alone with her.

“How are you, Brad?” Whitney asked, turning her back on me. “How’s Denise?”

“She’s fine. She’s working today.”

“She’s so dedicated to the nursery.”

“Yes, she is.”

“By the way, Brad,” Whitney said. “Did you hear they found human bones in the lighthouse mansion?”

“What?” He looked from me to Whitney. “Is that true?”

“It’s true,” she said, her head bobbing affirmatively. She looked inordinately proud of herself.

“That . . . that’s awful.”

Her eyes lit up. “I know. Sha

Mr. Jones gave me another horrified glance.

I frowned at Whitney. Why was she talking about this in front of Mr. Jones? Anyone who knew him had to know about his weak stomach for that kind of thing. Back when I had been demolishing his kitchen, he refused to watch, for fear we might find something living behind the walls. And when I had tried to show him the petrified squirrel we discovered, he’d cringed and hurried from the house.

Besides that, Brad’s wife, Denise, had been Lily Brogan’s best friend in high school. I was afraid Brad might turn green if he heard the news about Lily from bigmouth Whitney.

“Tommy says it was the most gruesome thing he’s ever seen.” Whitney looked positively giddy. “And that’s not even the best part. You’ll never guess.”

“Whitney,” I said in warning.

She shot me an evil look but kept talking. “They found a MedicAlert bracelet, too.”

I knew what she was doing. She was showing off to Mr. Jones and the rest of the world, trying to prove that she knew more about what was found in the lighthouse mansion than I did. Because Tommy had obviously told her I was there.

“Whitney,” I said again.

“What?” she snapped.

“Tommy wouldn’t want you talking about a police case.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “How do you know what Tommy would or wouldn’t want?”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Chief Jensen wouldn’t want you talking about it.”

Those must’ve been the magic words, because she immediately began to pout. “You think you know everything.”

“Not everything, but I do know that Chief Jensen swore us all to secrecy. So if something leaks out, I’ll be sure to let him know who was talking about it.”

“You’re a little snitch, you know that?”

“And you don’t know when to shut up.”

She glowered, and I knew what it meant to have someone shooting daggers at me. But I didn’t care. She shouldn’t have been talking about the bones.

Whitney tossed her hair back and turned, deliberately ignoring me as she grabbed Mr. Jones’s arm to get his attention. “Listen to this, Brad,” she murmured. “They think the bones were—”

His cell phone rang at that moment and he held up his hand to stop Whitney.

Saved by the bell, I thought.

“Hello?” Mr. Jones said, and smiled. “Hi, honey. Everything okay? What?” His smile disappeared and he shot me a look of pure fear. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Is Denise all right?” I asked. “Is she hurt?”

“The police just arrived at my house,” Mr. Jones whispered, his face turning paler by the second. He turned to Whitney. “They think the remains of the body they found in the lighthouse mansion were Lily Brogan’s.”

Chapter Five

“I hope you’re happy,” Whitney snarled, as we watched Brad Jones dash toward the exit.

“Of course I’m not happy,” I said. “He’s really upset.”

“Exactly. I was just about to tell him it was Lily, but you wouldn’t let it go. I could’ve warned him if you hadn’t butted in.” Hands at her hips, she shook her head and gave me a look most adults reserved for very stupid children. “You always have to be so high-and-mighty, sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

What is she talking about? “I’m not high-and-mighty. I just don’t think you should be talking about an active crime investigation.”

“What. Ever. The fact is, Brad and Denise are really good friends of mine. I trust them. Brad wouldn’t have said anything to anyone else.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point. I wanted him to know that Lily was out of the picture so Denise wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

“Worry about what?”

She sighed heavily, as though it was such a burden having to explain things to me. “About having to be friends with Lily again. You know, in case she ever came back to town.”

I shook my head, hopelessly confused by her. “Denise and Lily were best friends all through high school. Why wouldn’t they be friends again?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Whitney said, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t being overheard. “But it was always obvious to some people that Denise had a lot more class than Lily.”

I gaped at her. “How would you know? You never even met Lily.” Whitney hadn’t moved to town until our junior year, and Lily had been gone by then.

She waved off my protest. “But I know her brother, Sean, and he’s not exactly the most cultured person in the world. And didn’t their father spend time in jail? I mean, they were practically poor.”

She said that last word in the same tone most people would say Ebola.

I had to grip my hands together to keep from slapping her for talking about Sean that way. I wanted to defend my friend, but at the same time I knew that trying to explain myself to Whitney was as useful as trying to empty the ocean with a sand pail. “Who cares?” I said. “Lily was smart and generous and kind. Maybe that meant more to Denise than money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re so naive.”

Why was I arguing with this woman? Whitney had no concept of the idea of friendship. It was all about money with her. If you had enough money, you had status. Class. Denise’s family had money; Lily’s didn’t. So how could they possibly be friends?

I checked my watch and almost groaned out loud. I no longer had time to get a sandwich. I was going to starve, and I laid the blame directly on Whitney. “Never mind. I have to go back to work.”

“Work? Where are you working?”

I pointed down the hall. “Room 117.”

She looked baffled. “Is there a leak in the pipes or something?”

“No.” You blockhead, I thought, then felt a wave of remorse for calling her names, even under my breath. She couldn’t help being what she was. Though it would’ve been nice if she could just stay home and not subject the rest of us to her blockheadedness. “It’s Career Day.”

“Okay, but why are you here?”

“Because it’s fun. I’ve done it for five years now.”

“But . . .” She shook her head, honestly dumbstruck. “Who would want your career?”

I had to walk away before I smacked her. But after taking two steps, I stopped and said, “People who want to make a whole lot of money—that’s who.”

She grasped for something snotty to say, but came up lame. “Well, money isn’t everything.”