a few pictures before being glared down. They’re not very good, but you can see that he’s dead. And blue.”
“What would your mother say, nice girl like you taking pictures of a dead guy?”
“She’d want to fly to D.C. and help me out, and she’d bring my little sister for some serious family bonding and crime fighting.”
Tony snorted with laughter. Lacey hung up and headed back to the table as the nachos were being delivered. She took three steps when her phone rang again. “Good grief!” Lacey looked at the number: Brooke Barton. Normally she would like to talk with her BFF Brooke, but the timing was very suspicious. What did Brooke know and when did she know it?
Brooke Barton, Esquire, one of Lacey’s two best friends, loved democracy and conspiracy theories in equal measure, and she had an eerie ability to know when something was up with Lacey. Brooke was always ready to lend her aid in a crisis, whether it required legal chops or sharpshooting skills. But she was also dating Damon Newhouse of DeadFed fame. And that could spell trouble.
“You rang, Ms. Barton?” Lacey said.
“Is it true?” Brooke sounded far too excited.
“Is what true?”
“Don’t play with my nerves, Lacey. I have it on good authority that you stumbled onto another crime scene, interestingly tangled up in a fashion-related factory, and the corpse was purple.”
“You talked to Damon, and he was not purple. Did Damon say he was purple ?”
“No, the story is on The Eye ’s Web site,” Brooke said. “I threw in the purple to test you. Yes, he was blue, according to the story. But it was maddeningly vague as to the exact shade of blue. And why did you think Damon knew? Is there something more I should know?”
Bad move, Lacey. Now she’s really interested.
Lacey looked over at the table of Dominion employees, madly scarfing up all the nachos. They’d heard the name Damon . They waved at her, mouthing words of greeting for their hero Newhouse.
“No reason. Other than the body is blue and Damon might think he’s a dead Martian or something. And we know Damon just has a way of— dogging me.” Lacey thought about her recent private investigator’s class that Damon had also intruded on, once he found out she was there. Really, he was like a puppy, she thought, Brooke’s overgrown puppy. A puppy with a Web site. And fans.
“Don’t be silly. Damon adores you. He just wants to walk in your footsteps. So, what’s the story on the dead guy?”
“You can read it when I write it. I’m not sure now what the angle is for my feature.”
“How about the blue angle?”
“Yeah, there is always blue. The social meanings and symbolism of blue.”
Brooke lowered her voice. “Do you need me to come down? I could be there in a couple of hours.”
Along with Tony and Brooke and Damon’s fan club, it would be a swell party.
“Chill, Brooke. We don’t need our superpowers just yet.” What Lacey needed was a good meal. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. Lack of food and that yummy margarita were sailing straight to her head.
“Oh. Okay.” Brooke sounded let down. “You sure? I have a new Wonder Woman cape. A blue one.”
“Ah, bad news. They’ve redesigned Wonder Woman’s signature look. It’s awful. She looks like a rocker chick in a metal band now. We should protest.” Lacey took a breath. “They took the body away. You wouldn’t even have a chance to see the blue guy. I kind of doubt there’s going to be an open casket. It would be beyond tasteless.”
“Damn. And cremation is all the rage too. What will future generations of archaeologists play with if we leave them no preserved remains?”
“Luckily, we are not here to worry about future generations right now.”
“I guess you’re right. But, Lacey, if you need me, all you have to do is call. You know that.”
Lacey smiled to herself. “A friend in need and all that. I get it. I love you for that.” She hung up and headed back to the
“What would your mother say, nice girl like you taking pictures of a dead guy?”
“She’d want to fly to D.C. and help me out, and she’d bring my little sister for some serious family bonding and crime fighting.”
Tony snorted with laughter. Lacey hung up and headed back to the table as the nachos were being delivered. She took three steps when her phone rang again. “Good grief!” Lacey looked at the number: Brooke Barton. Normally she would like to talk with her BFF Brooke, but the timing was very suspicious. What did Brooke know and when did she know it?
Brooke Barton, Esquire, one of Lacey’s two best friends, loved democracy and conspiracy theories in equal measure, and she had an eerie ability to know when something was up with Lacey. Brooke was always ready to lend her aid in a crisis, whether it required legal chops or sharpshooting skills. But she was also dating Damon Newhouse of DeadFed fame. And that could spell trouble.
“You rang, Ms. Barton?” Lacey said.
“Is it true?” Brooke sounded far too excited.
“Is what true?”
“Don’t play with my nerves, Lacey. I have it on good authority that you stumbled onto another crime scene, interestingly tangled up in a fashion-related factory, and the corpse was purple.”
“You talked to Damon, and he was not purple. Did Damon say he was purple ?”
“No, the story is on The Eye ’s Web site,” Brooke said. “I threw in the purple to test you. Yes, he was blue, according to the story. But it was maddeningly vague as to the exact shade of blue. And why did you think Damon knew? Is there something more I should know?”
Bad move, Lacey. Now she’s really interested.
Lacey looked over at the table of Dominion employees, madly scarfing up all the nachos. They’d heard the name Damon . They waved at her, mouthing words of greeting for their hero Newhouse.
“No reason. Other than the body is blue and Damon might think he’s a dead Martian or something. And we know Damon just has a way of— dogging me.” Lacey thought about her recent private investigator’s class that Damon had also intruded on, once he found out she was there. Really, he was like a puppy, she thought, Brooke’s overgrown puppy. A puppy with a Web site. And fans.
“Don’t be silly. Damon adores you. He just wants to walk in your footsteps. So, what’s the story on the dead guy?”
“You can read it when I write it. I’m not sure now what the angle is for my feature.”
“How about the blue angle?”
“Yeah, there is always blue. The social meanings and symbolism of blue.”
Brooke lowered her voice. “Do you need me to come down? I could be there in a couple of hours.”
Along with Tony and Brooke and Damon’s fan club, it would be a swell party.
“Chill, Brooke. We don’t need our superpowers just yet.” What Lacey needed was a good meal. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. Lack of food and that yummy margarita were sailing straight to her head.
“Oh. Okay.” Brooke sounded let down. “You sure? I have a new Wonder Woman cape. A blue one.”
“Ah, bad news. They’ve redesigned Wonder Woman’s signature look. It’s awful. She looks like a rocker chick in a metal band now. We should protest.” Lacey took a breath. “They took the body away. You wouldn’t even have a chance to see the blue guy. I kind of doubt there’s going to be an open casket. It would be beyond tasteless.”
“Damn. And cremation is all the rage too. What will future generations of archaeologists play with if we leave them no preserved remains?”
“Luckily, we are not here to worry about future generations right now.”
“I guess you’re right. But, Lacey, if you need me, all you have to do is call. You know that.”
Lacey smiled to herself. “A friend in need and all that. I get it. I love you for that.” She hung up and headed back to the
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