Murder in Pastel Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s my fault too—or no, I’m just supposed to make it up to you by spending the rest of my life—”
    His voice grew louder still as he headed toward the door. By now I was backing up, hoping to sneak off before I was spotted through the window.
    No such luck. The front door flew open and Vince stomped out. He checked a moment at the sight of my discomfited retreat and said, still loud and mostly for Jen’s benefit, “Don’t run away, Kyle. You can take my place in the guilt pageant. I figure she’s good for another thirty minutes.”
    “This is a bad time,” I began.
    “We don’t have any good times,” Vince informed me. “Not anymore.” He walked around me and banged out the garden gate, leaving it swinging gently on its off-kilter hinges.
    I turned back to the cottage. Jen stood crying in the doorway. “Come in, Kyle,” she sobbed.
    “Jeez, Jen, I’m sorry.” I was still trying to escape down the path myself. She grabbed my arm with surprising strength and drew me into the house.
    She looked like hell, her face blotchy and swollen from crying, her eyes red. “I can’t go on like this,” she told me.
    “Do you have to?”
    She stared at me as though I were speaking a foreign language, and blinked her spiky lashes. “Do you want some ice tea?” she inquired on an apparent tangent.
    “No, thanks.”
    She turned away, walking into the kitchen. Unwillingly I followed, watching her pour two glasses of tea from the jug in the fridge. I try to steer clear of caffeine. Today it seemed easier to shut up and drink it.
    We went out on the porch and I set my paraphernalia on the railing. Jen eyed it gloomily. “What is that, a hookah?”
    “Some kind of bug-killing apparatus Jack Cobb manufactured for Miss Irene. For my peonies.” I was afraid that if I left it heating in the sun it might blow up the jeep.
    “Oh.”
    The silence stretched. I gulped my tea as fast as politely possible. Jen stared off at the ocean, pushing the old-fashioned glide swing we sat on in desultory fashion.
    “Vince thinks he’s gay,” she said at last.
    I choked on my tea. When I finished spluttering, Jen continued in that too calm voice, “It’s all because of that little—little cocksucker Adam brought home.”
    “Brett?” Like there was any other little cocksucker in question. “This is kind of sudden, isn’t it?”
    “Vince says no. He says he’s always been curious. That he’s always had certain feelings. He said he ignored them.”
    “Uh…” I stopped, not knowing what I could say that wouldn’t make it worse.
    “It’s bullshit,” Jen said wildly, rocking the swing harder so that I had to steady my glass. “I’d know if he was gay. I’d be the first one. He’s not. It’s that little—”
    I interjected, “Are you sure this is about Brett?”
    “Isn’t it obvious? He’s a hustler. A male whore. Adam must be insane bringing him here. He’s come on to everyone. Everyone! Joel, Vince. He came on to me. Me .”
    “You?” I was shocked. Why, I’m not sure; Brett appeared to be a liberal kind of guy.
    “Maybe we can get a group rate,” Jen said wildly. “He can screw the entire colony, physically and figuratively, for one low, low price.”
    I set my glass on the wooden floor.
    “Vince thinks he has feelings for Brett. Feelings! My God, I could spew .”
    I hoped she wouldn’t. She did look ill.
    “What you and Vince have is real,” I said at last, not knowing if it was true or not. What does anybody ever know really about someone else’s private life? “This thing with Brett, whatever it is, it’s just…infatuation. Or something. Besides, Brett has Adam.”
    “So?”
    “So? He’s not going to jeopardize that.”
    “Oh, Kyle.” Jen looked at me with pity.
    I felt myself changing color. Was it so fucking obvious to everyone how I felt about Adam? Was it obvious to Adam?
    “I’m only saying that Brett’s onto a good thing with Adam. He’s not going to jeopardize