Kincaid, now thirty-seven and single.
As two middle-aged, disgraced soldiers of God, Faith and Thomas had difficult times finding new careers, spending more time searching for gainful employment than being employed. So, in supporting their new family they worked through Faith's inheritance pretty quickly. Yet, although now poorer than church mice, pun intended, by all accounts they were deliriously happy and never for a day regretted their choice.
I was about to learn about the other sister, Hope, when the portable phone rang. It was a voice from the past.
"I thought I'd call and save you the postage on the thank-you note you're going to send me," she started off.
Grrr. The first time I met Jane Cross she'd attacked me from behind and did her best to grind my face into the carpet of a New York City hotel room. She's a fellow detective who lives and works in Regina.
Short, squat, cute, likes to swear and wrassle, physically and verbally. Spitfire comes to mind when I think of her-which I prefer not to do. "Why would I ever send you a note, least of all to say thank you? For what?" I took a sip of my lemonade which had suddenly turned sour.
"For getting your sorry ass out of the unemployment line. I assume Flora Wiser has been to see you?"
I pulled myself into a more erect position in the hammock, causing Barbra and Brutus to each open an eye to check out the possibility of a treat being tossed their way. Was this why Flora drove all the way from Regina to hire me? On the recommendation of Jane Cross? "What do you know about it?" I asked, my suspicious gene on full alert.
"You were second choice, bub. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Runner up to lil ol' me. You see, bub, Miss Wiser visited me first last week."
What was this? And I hate being called bub. "You obviously want to tell me something, Jane, so just spill it." The sun moved behind a cloud throwing the yard into shadow. Was it getting chilly out?
"I just wanted to make it clear that you owe me one. So there'd be no confusion when in the future I call on you for a favour...although I can't imagine why I'd ever need your help." Smarmy voice.
"Flora Wiser tried to hire you last week?"
"Yessiree. But I was unable to fit the job into my schedule. Very busy y'know."
"I'm sure, what with all the attacking of innocent hotel guests you have to do every day." Smarmy right back.
There was silence while she conjured up a profanity appropriate for the occasion. But I got the jump on her. "Are you saying that after you turned down the job, you, of your own free will, suggested me?"
She cleared her throat and admitted, "Well, not quite. A couple of hours after Flora left my office I got a call directly from Charity Wiser. She'd heard about my meeting with her granddaughter and decided a personal call was in order. She had specific needs and hoped I could help."
Given my past history with Jane Cross, I was beginning to suspect a practical joke at work, but something about her voice kept me from hanging up-for now. "Needs? What does that mean? Do you know Charity Wiser personally?"
"Nooooo," she said unconvincingly. "Not really. But apparently she knows of me through some acquaintances in common who live on the coast. Acquaintances who knew to refer Charity to me when she was looking for a detective who lives in Regina and...who's gay."
I do not recommend snorting lemonade through one's nose, but that was pretty much what I did at that point. That scamp! Jane Cross-a lesbian. I just knew it! Well, I didn't really, but I pretended that I did. I am a detective after all. I'm supposed to detect such things about people. "Oh," was all I said, the model of restraint.
"Charity called hoping to convince me to take the job," she said, admirably ignoring the sputtering sounds I was making over the phone. "I had to turn her down...very busy y'know..." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it; you're a busy and successful private eye, busier and more successful than me. Gotya. ".. .but
As two middle-aged, disgraced soldiers of God, Faith and Thomas had difficult times finding new careers, spending more time searching for gainful employment than being employed. So, in supporting their new family they worked through Faith's inheritance pretty quickly. Yet, although now poorer than church mice, pun intended, by all accounts they were deliriously happy and never for a day regretted their choice.
I was about to learn about the other sister, Hope, when the portable phone rang. It was a voice from the past.
"I thought I'd call and save you the postage on the thank-you note you're going to send me," she started off.
Grrr. The first time I met Jane Cross she'd attacked me from behind and did her best to grind my face into the carpet of a New York City hotel room. She's a fellow detective who lives and works in Regina.
Short, squat, cute, likes to swear and wrassle, physically and verbally. Spitfire comes to mind when I think of her-which I prefer not to do. "Why would I ever send you a note, least of all to say thank you? For what?" I took a sip of my lemonade which had suddenly turned sour.
"For getting your sorry ass out of the unemployment line. I assume Flora Wiser has been to see you?"
I pulled myself into a more erect position in the hammock, causing Barbra and Brutus to each open an eye to check out the possibility of a treat being tossed their way. Was this why Flora drove all the way from Regina to hire me? On the recommendation of Jane Cross? "What do you know about it?" I asked, my suspicious gene on full alert.
"You were second choice, bub. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Runner up to lil ol' me. You see, bub, Miss Wiser visited me first last week."
What was this? And I hate being called bub. "You obviously want to tell me something, Jane, so just spill it." The sun moved behind a cloud throwing the yard into shadow. Was it getting chilly out?
"I just wanted to make it clear that you owe me one. So there'd be no confusion when in the future I call on you for a favour...although I can't imagine why I'd ever need your help." Smarmy voice.
"Flora Wiser tried to hire you last week?"
"Yessiree. But I was unable to fit the job into my schedule. Very busy y'know."
"I'm sure, what with all the attacking of innocent hotel guests you have to do every day." Smarmy right back.
There was silence while she conjured up a profanity appropriate for the occasion. But I got the jump on her. "Are you saying that after you turned down the job, you, of your own free will, suggested me?"
She cleared her throat and admitted, "Well, not quite. A couple of hours after Flora left my office I got a call directly from Charity Wiser. She'd heard about my meeting with her granddaughter and decided a personal call was in order. She had specific needs and hoped I could help."
Given my past history with Jane Cross, I was beginning to suspect a practical joke at work, but something about her voice kept me from hanging up-for now. "Needs? What does that mean? Do you know Charity Wiser personally?"
"Nooooo," she said unconvincingly. "Not really. But apparently she knows of me through some acquaintances in common who live on the coast. Acquaintances who knew to refer Charity to me when she was looking for a detective who lives in Regina and...who's gay."
I do not recommend snorting lemonade through one's nose, but that was pretty much what I did at that point. That scamp! Jane Cross-a lesbian. I just knew it! Well, I didn't really, but I pretended that I did. I am a detective after all. I'm supposed to detect such things about people. "Oh," was all I said, the model of restraint.
"Charity called hoping to convince me to take the job," she said, admirably ignoring the sputtering sounds I was making over the phone. "I had to turn her down...very busy y'know..." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it; you're a busy and successful private eye, busier and more successful than me. Gotya. ".. .but