In Plain Sight Read Online Free PDF

Skye for her reaction.
    “I still think she’s fascinating,” Skye said. “And you can tell just by looking at her that she isn’t from around here .”
    Skye’s here dripped enough scorn to relegate Woodston to the outskirts of civilization, something out of those old Beverly Hillbillies reruns where the swimming pool is called a cement pond.
    “I hate those black-eyed peas and hog jowls everyone here thinks you should eat on New Year’s Day,” Skye added. She rolled her eyes. “And those burgers at that Biff’s Burgers place downtown taste like they’re made out of roadkill.”
    I looked at Sandy again, wondering how this scornful attitude about Woodston sat with her. I also considered inquiring of Skye just how much roadkill she’d sampled in order to make this judgment but decided better of it. Sandy scowled and squashed her napkin with uncharacteristic ferociousness, but she didn’t say anything.
    I couldn’t help asking, “I take it you don’t like it here in Woodston, Skye?”
    “I wouldn’t even be here except my mother got this cool new job in New York and had to move back there in a hurry. As soon as she gets settled, I’ll go live with her.” She paused, small frown between her perfectly arched dark brows. “Though being with my father is great too, of course.”
    I suspected what her problem was. She saw wanting to be with either parent as somehow disloyal to the other. “What does your mother do in New York?”
    “She’s editor of a new magazine called Edge. It has cool fashion and makeup and decorating articles.” She didn’t ask if I’d ever read it. I suppose it’s obvious I’m not on the cutting edge of fashion. Skye held out her hand, slender fingers spread to show her pale blue nails with silvery sparkles. “This is the nail polish the cover model was wearing last month.
    My mom sent it to me.”
    “That was nice of her.”
    “She’s going to set me up with the same modeling agency when I get to New York.”
    I glanced at Sandy. She was busy buttering a chunk of corn bread. I had the distinct impression things were not quite as they appeared on the surface here, but I’d made myself a promise not to be a nosy LOL with Sandy’s friends. I went back to the original subject.
    “So, if this Leslie Marcone doesn’t have a family or job, does anyone know what she does in her big house all the time?”
    “Yeah, I wonder. What does she do all the time?” Sandy said.
    Skye leaned back in the chair and looked off into space with a dreamy expression. “I think she’s into something sophisticated and glamorous, but she keeps it secret because she wants her privacy.”
    “Like what?” Sandy asked skeptically.
    “Oh, maybe she used to be a model, and now she’s a fashion designer who’s famous under a name we’d all recognize if we heard it. Or maybe she’s a best-selling author, but her books come out under a pen name, so no one here knows. Whatever it is, she must make tons of money.”
    “Maybe she married some rich old guy and grabbed all his money in a nasty divorce,” Sandy said, a suggestion that rather startled me with its hint of worldly cynicism. Her expression brightened. “Or maybe she embezzled millions of dollars and is hiding out here. But the FBI and CIA and everybody are about to catch up with her!”
    Sandy seemed to find that prospect appealing, if not necessarily plausible, because it ended on a giggle.
    After a moment, Skye said, “But her hair will look great, and she’ll be slim and gorgeous when they put the handcuffs on her,” and giggled too.
    I was relieved that the difference of opinion about Leslie Marcone was apparently no real rift between them.
    But this talk of embezzlement and handcuffs suddenly made me think about that phony bird-watcher down on the dock again. Now I targeted something else about him that bothered me. He wore those hayseedy clothes, but he’d never fit in with the genuine farmer types down at the Woodston Feed &