Talk Nerdy to Me (Nerds, #5)(31)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"Did, too. And you thought I’d drag you into it, somehow."

"Yeah, yeah. So what’s this idea of yours?"

"I go undercover."

Charlie didn’t get it. "I thought undercover was when nobody knew who you were. You’re as well-known in this town as I am."

"Yeah, but they don’t know I’m a spy, now, do they?"

"A spy?" Charlie groaned. "I’m afraid to hear the rest of this."

"It’s simple, but elegant. I seduce both Eunice and the sister. What’s her name again?"

"Denise, but I think this plan has huge flaws. For one thing, Eunice seems to do the major part of the seducing when you two get together."

"Only because I let that be the case." Rick waggled his eyebrows. "I can take charge if I want. Those eyebolts work both ways."

"Dear God. Forget I asked for help. This is a disaster in the making. And as for Eve’s sister, she—"

"Leave her to me. I’ll get her to reveal her secrets. Eunice, too. I’ll handle both of those suspects for you. But as for Ed and Darrell, you’re on your own. I’m not seducing them. I have my limits."

Chapter Twenty-two

Rick decided he was in the wrong damned profession. He should have taken up acting. Charlie had completely bought his fixation on sex, although it wasn’t totally an act. Whenever he focused on sex, he forgot about Peterson for a while. So he was willing to take on the challenge of seducing Eve’s sister, just for the distraction factor.

But he’d promised Peterson he’d report in, so he finished his coffee and excused himself. "Gotta take a leak," he said.

"Sure. I’m getting some pie and coffee. Want some?"

"Pie would be great, but I’ll skip the extra coffee." Rick had the shakes as it was. After going into the single-stall bathroom, he locked the door, pulled out his cell, and dialed Peterson’s number. "It’s me."

"Does he suspect you of anything?"

"No." Rick swallowed. "But you took a chance last night, staying to watch. They heard you leave."

"That was my reward." Peterson’s tone was smooth and unhurried. "God knows if you’ll make this spaceship pay off. I need to take whatever benefit I can from this sorry situation, because I doubt you’ll come up with the money. I’ll get some consolation from watching you die, but not enough."

Rick clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. ‘The hovercraft will pay off. I have an appointment in New York on Monday." He tried to calm himself by looking at the framed Playboy centerfolds covering the bathroom walls.

"Yes, well, before you go rushing off to that appointment, you have some business to take care of."

"What’s that?" Rick’s heart beat so fast he wondered if he could be having a stroke. Even staring at Miss July’s 36DDs wasn’t helping.

"You have to destroy that prototype in the garage, of course. Make it look like she blew it up by accident."

"I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea." Rick dragged in a breath. "Somebody could get hurt."

Peterson sighed. "That’s not your concern, is it? Your concern is to destroy the evidence that someone else created this concept you’re selling."

Rick tried frantically to think of an alternative, but Peterson was right about getting rid of the hovercraft. Maybe he could steal the whole thing and then torch it. Except he didn’t know how to do that. Somebody would be sure to notice him leaving Eve’s garage with that big purple saucer.

"Either you promise to destroy it or I’ll have it done," Peterson said.

"No, no. I’ll do it." Rick didn’t dare turn Peterson loose on something like that. Only a smoking, gaping hole in the ground would be left after Peterson blew up the garage and probably the house right along with it.

"And soon," Peterson said. "They’re obviously close to brushing it"

"Soon," Rick said.

"Let me know when it’s destroyed."

"I will," Rick said, but Peterson had already disconnected. Rick struggled to breathe. For several seconds the display of centerfolds wouldn’t snap into focus. He stood there until all those tits were perfectly clear again. Then he left to rejoin Charlie.

Eve was desperately in need of a carb fix by the time she and Denise arrived at the Pastry Parlor. Denise had acted as if she didn’t want to go, but Eve could tell her sister was curious. Eve had always wondered if Denise was a wild child underneath all that bossy, controlling behavior.

When they walked in, Myrtle was behind the counter, looking very chipper considering the fact she’d been up late the night before baking cookies. Eve admired the spunk of these two women, who weren’t letting their senior-citizen status keep them from building a business.

The shop was bustling, so Eve and Denise had to stand in line. Denise was trying to look as if she walked into a bakery like this every day of the week, but her glance kept darting toward the cases marked BOOBY BUNS and BAWDY BREADSTICKS. Her cheeks were very pink.

Then Eve noticed that the usual tray of doughnuts had been relabeled. Now they were called COCK RINGS. And a marble cake with a condom packet sitting on top was advertised as SAFE SEX SWIRL. The ladies had decided to go for it.

As Denise stood beside Eve, she ducked her head, lowered her voice, and mumbled a question that sounded like loco.

Eve leaned close to her sister and talked out of the side of her mouth. "Not even slightly crazy. Rose and Myrtle are two of the sanest women I know."

Denise frowned and shook her head. Putting her mouth closer to Eve’s ear, she said softly. "No. Are these locals?

"Oh." Eve took inventory of the people in front of her. There was Agnes Heath, who ran a dress shop on Main Street. And behind her stood Betty Magnum, who worked in the post office. And there was Jeremy Nagle, bank president, looking dapper in his yellow polka-dot bow tie.

Eve looked at Denise. "All locals," she murmured.

"Amazing." Denise adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder and scanned the bakery cases again. "I’m thinking of switching some things around in my portfolio."

"Huh?" Eve couldn’t imagine how being surrounded by Bawdy Breadsticks, Booby Buns, and Cock Rings would make her sister start reevaluating her Investments.

"I thought the mood of the country was more conservative than this," Denise said. "So I’ve been putting my money into sectors that support that mind-set. Home and hearth staff. But now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t diversify into some adult entertainment stocks."

"They have stocks?"

"Sure. You just have to know where to look. I didn’t realize that it was a growth market, but it makes sense—two sides of the same coin. Let me know if the Pastry Parlor decides to franchise. I might be interested in being a silent partner."

Eve was in awe of that kind of thinking. The extent of her investment skills included buying a house in Middlesex, buying some savings bonds, and opening an IRA. She could have asked Denise about managing her income, but she hadn’t wanted to. Maybe her pride was costing her money.

Jeremy Nagle turned. "Oh, hi, Eve. I heard someone talking about investments, so naturally my ears perked up."

And Jeremy had quite the ears to perk up, too. Eve had always thought they looked like elf ears. "Hi, Mr. Nagle. This is—"

"Please call me Jeremy."

"Okay." Eve thought Mr. Nagle fit him a lot better, considering his bow tie. "Jeremy, this is my sister Denise. She’s an economics professor at Yale."

"Is she now?" Jeremy shook Denise’s hand enthusiastically. "I’ve spent many happy hours at Yale."

"You went to school there?" Denise asked.

"No, no. I just drive over and wander around." He giggled. "I don’t normally tell people about this, but we’re all here in the Pastry Parlor together, so I guess I’m among friends." He winked broadly at Denise and Eve.

Eve didn’t get it. "I don’t see anything strange about wandering around Yale," she said. "It’s a pretty campus."

"That’s not all that’s pretty." Mr. Nagle winked again. "You know that old song about standing on the comer and watching all the girls go by?"

By now Denise was staring at the banker as if she might be considering calling the guys with the butterfly nets. "I don’t believe I know that song."

"I heard it once on an oldies station." Eve was getting the drift of this confession, and it was cracking her up.

Mr. Nagle gave them a nasal, off-key rendition of the first few bars of the song. "And so on," he said, smiling. "That’s me at Yale. Standing on the corner watching ail the pretty girls. I don’t whistle at them anymore like I used to, though. It’s not PC to do that now."

Eve worked so hard at not laughing that she choked, causing both Denise and Mr. Nagle to pound her on the back. Or rather, Denise pounded and Mr. Nagle patted. Eve had forgotten how hard Denise could thump a person’s back.

Shortly, thanks to Denise’s energetic pounding, Eve managed to breathe again. She coughed and cleared her throat. "Thanks. I must have swallowed wrong."

Mr. Nagle took his turn at the counter and ordered a dozen Booby Buns. Eve glanced over at Denise. Ever since Denise was little, when she tried not to laugh, she got very red in the face. At the moment, she was scarlet from, holding her breath.

Looking at Denise set Eve off again, and she had to hold her hand over her mouth and stare at the Mack and white tiles on the bakery floor to get herself under control. It might have been one of the best sisterly moments she’d had with Denise in ten years.

After Mr. Nagle left with Ms Booby Buns, Eve and Denise took their turn at the counter.

"And this is your sister!" Myrtle said immediately. "I saw you come in and I knew it had to be her. Definitely a family resemblance, there."

Eve smiled. "Myrtle Bannister, I’d like you to meet Denise." Maybe having a sister wasn’t so bad, after all. It was nice to be connected to someone.

"Nice to meet you, Denise. Eve tells me you’re a professor." Myrtle said it with just the right amount of reverence.

"Yes, I am," Denise said. "And speaking from a marketing standpoint, this is a great concept you’re developing."

Eve was liking this more and more. Good vibes all the way around.

"Thank you." Myrtle beamed.

"But you would improve traffic flow and encourage more browsing by giving out numbers instead of having people stand in line."

Eve winced. For a while there she’d actually had warm feelings toward her sister, but apparently Denise couldn’t help being Denise.

"I’ll take that under advisement." Some of the warmth had left Myrtle’s smile. "Until recently, we haven’t been this busy."

"And the name of the shop should change. You might consider—"

"Myrtle, we’re in kind of a hurry." Eve decided to cut off this discussion before Denise embarrassed her completely. "We’ll just take four Cock Rings and two Booby Buns, please."

"Coming up." Myrtle snapped open a paper bag and started loading it with Eve’s order.

Denise cleared her throat. "As I was saying, the—"

"Is Manny in the back, by any chance?" Eve asked, desperate to sidetrack her sister.

"That boy is still frosting," Myrtle said. "What a worker. Kyle’s home’ sleeping, but Manny came in with us this morning. I think Rose is trying to make a baker out of him."

"I hate to interrupt that," Eve said. "But I know he wanted to meet Denise."

"I’ll go get him." Myrtle put down the bag and pushed through a swinging door that led to the back.

"Who’s Manny?"

Eve turned toward her sister and threw out what she hoped was irresistible bait. "He works for Charlie’s cousin, Rick. He wants some Investment advice."

"Really?" Denise brightened, "Do you know about his holdings?"

"Not my area."

"The market is volatile right now, so I can understand him seeking advice,"

Eve heard the unmistakable sound of Denise licking her chops. Then Manny came through the swinging door and Eve heard another, more surprising sound from her sister—a quick intake of breath. Uh-oh. Denise thought Manny was hot. This was a complication Eve didn’t need, but it was too late, now.

"Hey, Eve." Manny stripped off his clear plastic gloves as he came around the counter.

"Hi, there. This is my sister, Denise. Denise, this is Manny Flores, full-time photographer’s assistant and part-time cookie froster."

"I’m really getting into this bakery thing." Manny shook hands with Denise. "Nice to meet you. I don’t know if Eve told you that I’m looking for some investment advice."

"She mentioned that." Denise’s expression softened. "I’d be happy to be of some help."

Eve realized it had been years since she’d seen Denise in the grip of infatuation. She’d forgotten the transformation that took place. Gone was the drill sergeant, replaced by a girly girl who spoke in dulcet tones.

"That’s good, because I need all the help I can get," Manny said.

Denise shifted her position so she partially blocked Eve out of the conversation. "Well, Manny, I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but—"

A snort of laughter came out of Eve before she could censor herself. Manny glanced at her in surprise, but Denise’s glare brought back memories of being the little sister biding behind the couch on a Saturday night.

"’Scuse me," Eve said. "I had a flashback to our Jeremy Nagle experience. You two continue talking. I’ll just step over here and pay for our order." She moved to the counter and left Denise to impress Manny with her Wall Street smarts.

Eve thought she deserved a medal for corning up with such a brilliant excuse for laughing at the wrong moment But Denise pretending that she might not have all the answers was too rich. Eve was also proud of herself for resisting the impulse to remind Denise that they had a washing machine repairman coming to the house soon. Was she a sensitive sister, or what?