In Plain Sight Read Online Free PDF Page A

there.”
    The Dumpling again. And I heard a certain snideness in Skye’s crack about actually doing something. As compared to someone—the Dumpling, perhaps?—who went to the health club and didn’t do anything? I made a mental note to ask Sandy about all this later.
    “I’ll bet she doesn’t have more than 15 percent body fat,” Skye added, her tone admiring. “After taking a look at that crummy little health club, she probably set up her own exercise room at home. Hey, there’s my dad!” She pointed to the TV in the living room, where the local news from a Fayetteville station had just come on.
    “Really?” I looked closer.
    “I guess I forgot to mention it.” Sandy sounded guilty for not having informed me of this celebrity status. She grabbed the remote and flicked the sound to a higher level. “Skye’s dad is the anchor for the local news. His name’s Brad Ridenour.”
    “They call him ‘the Big Brad,’” Skye said with obvious pride.
    We all watched Skye’s father tell about a weekend fire in Fayetteville. He had an excellent voice, deep and mellow, good, clear enunciation. He didn’t get maudlin about the two dogs that were lost in the fire, but he sounded as if he cared. Though a moment later he was kidding with his coanchor about her frequent changes of hair color.
    Skye must have inherited her dark-haired, willowy good looks from her mother, I decided, because I couldn’t see any resemblance between her and this husky, blond guy with the cleft chin. “The Big Brad” definitely fit him. He was good-looking too, but in a heavy-necked, ex-football-player kind of way. I also saw no resemblance between Skye’s quiet reserve and the way Brad Ridenour bantered and kidded with the coanchor and the weather girl.
    “He’s going to be the speaker at our high school commencement ceremonies in May,” Sandy added, as if to make up for not giving the man his proper due earlier.
    “He’s into all kinds of civic activities,” Skye said. “It’s good for his image. Some people have been suggesting he should consider politics, and he’ll probably run for state representative in the next election.”
    After the local news ended, Sandy lowered the sound again, and I went back to the subject of the mystery woman.
    “Does this Leslie Marcone work somewhere?”
    “If she does, it must be nights, because she’s out there exercising like a maniac in the daytime,” Sandy said. “Except I sometimes see lights on at, like, 5:00 in the morning over there, so it looks as if she’s home.”
    “A home business?” I suggested.
    “Maybe. Mom did some work for her, but I don’t know what it was about.”
    There was nothing in particular to make me think so, but a hint of disapproval in Sandy’s tone made me wonder if this was the client DeeAnn had said she’d move to Mars to escape from.
    “I think she’s fascinating,” Skye stated suddenly. “Rich and beautiful and mysterious—”
    Just as suddenly Sandy stated an opposite opinion. “I think she’s a stuck-up snob.”
    I was mildly shocked by Sandy’s hostile comment. Usually Sandy goes out of her way to look for the good in people.
    Apparently my surprise showed.
    “She is a stuck-up snob,” Sandy repeated, though now her tone held a defensive note. “She acts like she owns the trail. She jumped all over some little kids last fall, just because their dog came out of the water and shook on her. Elly, who did Mom’s hair, told Mom that Leslie got up and stomped out because she had to wait about five minutes for her appointment. I guess that’s when she started going to Little Rock. And Mom said she practically went into riot mode over some little two-dollar photocopy charge on the bill Mom sent her for the bookkeeping work.”
    Okay, those weren’t particularly likeable traits, and I could understand Sandy’s defensiveness about her mother, but the vehemence of her announced dislike for Leslie Marcone seemed out of proportion. I looked to