Jaine Austen Mystery: Killing Cupid Part 2

Then she looked down and saw what we all saw: The sixth chocolate.

You'd think she would have been embarra.s.sed. But no. Hurricane Joy, having spent all her venom, just shrugged and said, "Never mind."

As she tottered back into her office, the models broke out in a chorus of nervous whispers. But Travis and Ca.s.sie just rolled their eyes.

"This happens all the time," Ca.s.sie said with a shrug.

Holy mackerel. And I thought I was a chocoholic.

I trudged up the path to my duplex in the slums of Beverly Hills, a modest pocket of no-frills dwellings far from the mega-mansions north of Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard. I was still shuddering at the memory of Hurricane Joy when Lance came bounding out from his apartment.

"So did you get the job?" he asked, his eyes lighting up at the sight of me.

"Yeah, I got it," I sighed.

"Great!" he beamed, ignoring the cloud of gloom hovering over my head. "Now you can have Joy fix me up on a date."

"Forget it, Lance. The woman is a crook. She pads her client list with models and actors who don't even belong to the club. Most of the guys who do belong are a lot older and paunchier than you. I saw a grand total of five attractive male clients on her active client list, only one of whom was gay. And he lived in Rancho Cucamonga with six cats and a Maserati."

"A Maserati, huh? Works for me! So set me up with an appointment ASAP."

"I'm not setting you up with an appointment. Joy's fees start at ten grand a year, and there's no way you can afford that."

"We'll see about that."

And with a sly look, a lot like Prozac's just before she's about to pounce on a cashmere sweater, he trotted off into the night.

Back in my apartment, I checked my messages, praying that an a.s.signment had come in from one of my regular clients. Eagerly I scanned my e-mails for a note from Toiletmasters (Flushed with Success Since 1995!) or Tip Top Cleaners (We Clean for You. We Press for You. We Even Dye for You!) or Ackerman's Awnings (Just a Shade Better). But alas, my in-box was depressingly devoid of job orders.

For the time being, it looked like I was stuck with the G.o.diva G.o.dzilla.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop

Subject: Exciting News!

Exciting news, honey! I just ordered the most adorable Georgie O. Armani jacket from the shopping channel. Lipstick red with white piping. It'll be perfect for Valentine's Day. Daddy is taking me to dinner at Le Chateaubriand, Tampa Vistas's most elegant restaurant. Daddy promised he'd make the reservations today. He's probably getting me what he always gets me for Valentine's Day: a dozen roses and a bottle of Jean Nate. I'm getting him something he saw on an infomercial, some crazy gadget called a Belgian Army Knife. I wanted to buy him a watch from the shopping channel, but no, he had to have that silly Belgian Army Knife. He insists he can't live without it.

But enough about Daddy. Here's the really exciting news. Guess who's moved to Tampa Vistas. Lydia Pinkus's brother, Lester. You remember Lydia Pinkus, don't you, honey? One of my dearest friends and the president of the Tampa Vistas Homeowners a.s.sociation. Anyhow, her brother is the most charming man, a retired physics professor, a world traveler, and a former amateur boxer. And so distinguished. He looks just like the doctor on the Lipitor commercials!

He's staying with Lydia until he can find a townhouse of his own. And today he's taking me and Lydia and Edna Lindstrom to lunch at the clubhouse. Isn't that the sweetest thing ever?

Must run and get dressed.

Love and x.x.x,

Mom

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Subject: Horrible News!

Horrible news, Lambchop. Lydia Pinkus's brother, a retired physics professor, has moved to Tampa Vistas. What an insufferable gasbag. Yapping about black holes and antiquarks and bragging about how he used to be an amateur boxer. Big deal. I used to be on the varsity Ping-Pong team in college, but you don't catch me bragging about it.

It's bad enough having to put up with that battle axe Lydia. Now I have to put up with her gasbag brother, too. He's taking your mom and Edna Lindstrom to lunch at the clubhouse today. Thank G.o.d I don't have to go, too. If I had to hear one more story about quantum chromodynamics or the time Lester sparred with Sugar Ray Leonard, I swear I'd conk out head first in my chicken noodle soup.

But on the plus side, Lambchop, your mom is getting me a fantastic gift for Valentine's Day. A genuine Belgian Army Knife. It's just like a Swiss Army knife, only it comes with a built-in callus remover-and a free recipe for Belgian waffles!

More later. Gotta call and make reservations for Valentine's dinner at Le Chateaubriand. It's Tampa Vistas's most exclusive restaurant, you know.

Love 'n' hugs from,

Daddy

P.S. I think Lester Pinkus has a "thing" for your mom. I've caught him staring at her when he thought I wasn't looking.

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop

Subject: Silliest Thing You Ever Heard

Forgot to tell you, sweetheart. Daddy thinks Lester Pinkus has a crush on me. Isn't that the silliest thing you ever heard?

XOXO,.

Mom

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Subject: Gasbag Romeo

Unsettling news, Lambchop. I just happened to be walking by the clubhouse restaurant a while ago, and you'll never guess what I saw! Lester Pinkus holding hands with your mom! What did I tell you? I knew that gasbag Romeo was up to no good!

Love 'n' snuggles from

Your very irate,

Daddy

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop