When we got outside I noticed that a slight wind had picked up and I had to work to keep my hair out of my face as we walked down the sidewalks of Parnassus. Leah’s hair, which was plastered with God-only-knows-what hair products, stayed stubbornly in place.
“Where’s my favorite nephew?” I asked. Four-year-old Jack was my favorite as he was my only nephew. I’d love him more if he would just stop trying to kill my cat.
“He’s at a morning playdate right now. I’ll pick him up in an hour.”
“Nice that you get a break.”
Leah stopped and turned to me. “Are you all right?”
“I wasn’t the one who was shot.”
“You could have been.” She reached over and plucked out a small leaf that had secretly blown into my hair. “You were so close, Sophie. Only a room away!”
“I might as well have been in another city. I didn’t even see who did the shooting.”
Leah hesitated and then seemed to decide this was an acceptable enough answer and started walking again. A passing truck driver called out something suggestive but neither of us bothered to turn our heads.
“We could walk to your house from here,” she noted.
“We could. But I’d rather not, seeing that both our cars are in the hospital parking lot.”
Leah nodded and picked up her pace, forcing me to do the same. It was a few more minutes before she spoke again. “What if I told you that I might know who did this?”
“What?” Now it was my turn to stop.
“I don’t know for sure,” Leah said quickly. “It’s just a possibility. An unlikely possibility at that.”
“Leah, what are you talking about?”
Leah hesitated and then pointed to the Starbucks across the street. “Maybe we should get coffee after all.”
CHAPTER 5
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Of course I don’t have to worry, since my intentions are usually pretty messed up.
–Fatally Yours
Leah refused to talk any more about it until we were both seated across from one another at a corner table. I allowed her this because I had my doubts about how useful her information was going to be.
There was no one at the neighboring tables but she still took the time to look over both her shoulders before leaning forward to reveal her secret.
“Remember when that horrible little group of protestors stood outside Dena’s store a few years ago? They called themselves Moral Americans Against Pornography?”
“Are you talking about MAAP?” I asked. “They’ve protested twice. I think it might even become an annual event. Dena loves it. Each time they’ve shown up she’s called all her customers and offered them what she calls the Wrath-of-God discount. That’s fifteen percent off any item in the store that’s provocative enough to piss off an antiporn picketer.”
“In other words, everything in her store.”
“Exactly. It’s her busiest day of the year.”
Leah smiled. “It’s just impossible not to admire her ingenuity. Anyway, the woman who founded MAAP is Chrissie Powell. She serves on the San Francisco symphony fundraising board with me. She’s nice to the people she needs to impress but no one else. Wretched woman. Would you believe that she wouldn’t even hire me to plan her wedding? She actually told me that she wasn’t sure if I was qualified to handle such a big event! I have organized corporate parties for five hundred people. I’ve planned the bar mitzvahs for the children of some of the most respected families in this city! Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins are still talking about the twenty-fifth anniversary party I threw them—”
“Leah,” I said irritably and motioned for her to get on with it.
“Right,” she said, only slightly chastened. “Chrissie founded MAAP on the pretense that the group’s purpose is to fight against all pornography.”
“It’s not?”
“Hardly. Perhaps that’s what some of the members believe, but Chrissie formed the group for one reason. She wanted to torment Dena.”
One of the baristas behind the counter turned on the blender and the grinding whine of the appliance played devil’s advocate to the mellow notes of Paul Simon coming through the speakers. “Why would anyone form an entire group just to torment one person?” I asked. “It’s not like Dena’s a politician or even a real pornographer. She just sells sexy lingerie, toys, a few naughty books and a couple of adult videos. Is that really so offensive?”
Leah cocked her head to the side. “You do realize that literary erotica and adult videos are the very definition of pornography, don’t you?”
“Yeah, okay, but she’s not making the videos. She’s just selling them.”
“I see. So if you’re just selling the cocaine but not actually growing the coca plants, are you really a drug pusher?”
“Can we not get nitpicky about this?”
Leah rolled her eyes. “It’s not really about what she sells in her store anyway. Chrissie’s trying to get back at Dena because approximately two years ago Dena slept with Chrissie’s husband, Tim.”
I nearly dropped my plastic cup. “What? Did Dena know the guy was married?’
“He wasn’t. Not at the time. They were just engaged. Whether or not Dena knew he was engaged is anyone’s guess, although I don’t see how she would have. Engaged men don’t wear rings, and it’s not as if Dena asks a man a lot of questions before inviting him into her bed.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s completely fair. But if it makes you feel better, let’s say she did ask him if he was involved with anyone else. What are the chances he would have told her the truth?”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. But…you just said this was before they got married?” A couple took the table next to us and I scooted my chair closer to Leah so we could continue our conversation in quieter tones. “If she knew her fiancé was messing around, why did she go through with it?”
“Apparently Chrissie didn’t find out about what Tim did until after the wedding. God only knows how it all came to her attention. Of course if she had hired me to plan her wedding, I would have been able to alert her to the problem. I can always spot a cheater.”
“Leah, you were married to a cheater and you didn’t have a clue until he announced he was leaving you for a twenty-two-year-old.”
“Well, I learned from that,” Leah snapped. “Now I can spot a cheater from a mile away. Of course, I didn’t get within a mile of Tim. I’ve never even met the man. But if I had been allowed to plan the wedding I would have seen right through him and then—”
“And then there wouldn’t have been a wedding to plan,” I said irritably. Listening to Leah chastise another woman for marrying a cheater was like listening to Lindsay Lohan complain about reckless drivers.
“Perhaps there wouldn’t have been,” Leah said with a shrug. “On the other hand, perhaps they would have worked it out. It’s not as if she’s left him now that she knows.”
“And yet she’s still after Dena?”
“Yes.” Leah fingered the stiffly starched collar of her pale blue linen shirt. “That part’s understandable.”
“How?