we do for a living.”
Tara and Vic hmm’d at the same time, and I went on. “Did you find websites for Flow Network Design and The Peachtree Group?”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t much more information.” Victoria made eye contact with Tara, and then I had four eyes looking back at me. “Do you think you could find out more?” I knew she meant from my husband and that was suggesting a new turn for Tiara Investigations.
“Let’s see if the investigation leads us down that road first.” I pulled my arms out of my tee-shirt but left it around my neck. I don’t have the nerve to run with only a jog bra, and the shirt sufficiently covered me up, plus giving me something to mop up the sweat with.
“We have an investigation? I thought we were just fact finding to help Detective Kent and try to make up for letting Kelly Taylor down.” Tara called this over her shoulder.
Victoria skipped over her question and went on. “It already has led down that road. The call that Kelly says drew him out of the house was from a Peachtree Group phone number. I got that off of reverse lookup.” The three of us stopped in our tracks. Granted, this is not much of a status change when you are already running an eleven minute mile. At the time we were under McGinnis Ferry Road.
“Did you dial it? I mean to get the name off of the voice mail?” Tara asked.
“No, I couldn’t remember how to disable caller ID.”
I stretched my arms out to the side. When I run I hold my elbows at a ninety degree angle, and they were some kind of stiff. “A menopause moment?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s star 59.” Tara began running again. “I think we should attend the funeral. I’ll call Kelly and ask about the arrangements.”
“I think we should visit The Peachtree Group on Monday morning.” Victoria lowered her voice because we were nearing a group of kids.
We passed the Buckeye Pavillion , where a group of Boy Scouts listened to a lecture.
“ Wanna flash them?” In Tara’s defense, we had been running quite a while and were getting loopy.
“You first.” Despite my challenge there was no mooning of Boy Scouts, as least not that day. We’re just big talkers.
The rest of our run was spent discussing other cases, a couple of new clients and those on hold waiting for a call. We made the loop at Suwanee Creek Park, which gave us four miles, and went into the ladies room. Then we ran out and back to our starting point. We turned around and ran back to Martin Farm Park and then retraced our steps to the cars. This gave us our ten miles. Victoria took Tara and me to our cars.
“See you around
noon
at my house,” Tara called out the window as she drove off.
We didn’t go straight to our respective homes because there was the little matter of Starbucks with their sweet tea calling to us. In a line we peeled off and into the drive-thru lane. Next it was home for showers, then to Tara’s for lunch and to prepare mentally for our come-to-Jesus meeting with Detective Kent.
~
You can just imagine my surprise when I was met at the door by Dr. Armistead, or as we like to call him, Paul, Tara’s boyfriend. Victoria was already there with a look of horror on her pretty face. He was supposed to be playing golf. I mean, when we’re supposed to play golf, we play golf. He was making lunch for us, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a northern thing. We followed him through the kitchen to the screened-in breakfast room where Tara was just placing a centerpiece of floating candles and the tops of Gerber daisies in a crystal bowl. The Lloyd Flanders white wicker dining table was covered with an ivory antique lace table cloth.
Wine glasses were on the table, but the three of us chose iced tea. What we knew that the good doctor didn’t was that we had to be one hundred percent professional when we showed up at the police station. Nonetheless, I picked up the bottle and read the label.
“Very nice,” I
Tara and Vic hmm’d at the same time, and I went on. “Did you find websites for Flow Network Design and The Peachtree Group?”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t much more information.” Victoria made eye contact with Tara, and then I had four eyes looking back at me. “Do you think you could find out more?” I knew she meant from my husband and that was suggesting a new turn for Tiara Investigations.
“Let’s see if the investigation leads us down that road first.” I pulled my arms out of my tee-shirt but left it around my neck. I don’t have the nerve to run with only a jog bra, and the shirt sufficiently covered me up, plus giving me something to mop up the sweat with.
“We have an investigation? I thought we were just fact finding to help Detective Kent and try to make up for letting Kelly Taylor down.” Tara called this over her shoulder.
Victoria skipped over her question and went on. “It already has led down that road. The call that Kelly says drew him out of the house was from a Peachtree Group phone number. I got that off of reverse lookup.” The three of us stopped in our tracks. Granted, this is not much of a status change when you are already running an eleven minute mile. At the time we were under McGinnis Ferry Road.
“Did you dial it? I mean to get the name off of the voice mail?” Tara asked.
“No, I couldn’t remember how to disable caller ID.”
I stretched my arms out to the side. When I run I hold my elbows at a ninety degree angle, and they were some kind of stiff. “A menopause moment?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s star 59.” Tara began running again. “I think we should attend the funeral. I’ll call Kelly and ask about the arrangements.”
“I think we should visit The Peachtree Group on Monday morning.” Victoria lowered her voice because we were nearing a group of kids.
We passed the Buckeye Pavillion , where a group of Boy Scouts listened to a lecture.
“ Wanna flash them?” In Tara’s defense, we had been running quite a while and were getting loopy.
“You first.” Despite my challenge there was no mooning of Boy Scouts, as least not that day. We’re just big talkers.
The rest of our run was spent discussing other cases, a couple of new clients and those on hold waiting for a call. We made the loop at Suwanee Creek Park, which gave us four miles, and went into the ladies room. Then we ran out and back to our starting point. We turned around and ran back to Martin Farm Park and then retraced our steps to the cars. This gave us our ten miles. Victoria took Tara and me to our cars.
“See you around
noon
at my house,” Tara called out the window as she drove off.
We didn’t go straight to our respective homes because there was the little matter of Starbucks with their sweet tea calling to us. In a line we peeled off and into the drive-thru lane. Next it was home for showers, then to Tara’s for lunch and to prepare mentally for our come-to-Jesus meeting with Detective Kent.
~
You can just imagine my surprise when I was met at the door by Dr. Armistead, or as we like to call him, Paul, Tara’s boyfriend. Victoria was already there with a look of horror on her pretty face. He was supposed to be playing golf. I mean, when we’re supposed to play golf, we play golf. He was making lunch for us, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a northern thing. We followed him through the kitchen to the screened-in breakfast room where Tara was just placing a centerpiece of floating candles and the tops of Gerber daisies in a crystal bowl. The Lloyd Flanders white wicker dining table was covered with an ivory antique lace table cloth.
Wine glasses were on the table, but the three of us chose iced tea. What we knew that the good doctor didn’t was that we had to be one hundred percent professional when we showed up at the police station. Nonetheless, I picked up the bottle and read the label.
“Very nice,” I
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