A Bad Day for Scandal Read Online Free

generally among the last things she and a client talked about, well after the litany of misdeeds and mishandling and mistreatment that brought them to Stella in the first place, and generally after a soothing cup of hot chocolate or a resolve-firming jolt of Johnnie Walker Black or a steadying can of ice-cold Fresca, whatever the client seemed to require. Sometimes it was several meetings before payment came up at all.
    But Priss was pissing Stella off. Part of the reason was obvious—the woman had left town at the age when most other local gals were trying to decide whether to pop out their first baby before or after racking up a Prosper High School diploma. She’d headed for the city, where rumor was she’d earned not just an undergraduate degree but also a business school diploma, which showed the kind of gumption Stella could respect—but then she somehow landed a job that rained money down on her but didn’t leave her time to come back and visit any of the local folks, even the few who’d managed to tolerate her when she still lived in Prosper. And that kind of thing—turning your back on the ones who brought you up—Stella didn’t cotton to that one bit.
    Still, an unpleasant thought lurked around the edges of Stella’s mind, and she sighed and dragged it into focus: Priss’s life path—all but the frosty, ungrateful bitch part—was uncomfortably close to the dream Stella had carried around for Noelle for many years until she finally got it through her head that her daughter had her own ideas about her future. Specifically, Noelle did not wish to be a doctor or a teacher or a scientist—she dreamed, since the age of five, about becoming a beautician, and now that she had become a darn good one, the girl had the sort of career satisfaction that Stella guessed everyone was entitled to.
    Maybe, she admitted to herself, she ought not judge Priss quite so quickly for her own ambitions and decisions.
    “Well, I guess you can describe the job first,” she said, softening.
    “I’ll do better than that—I’ll show you,” Priss said, going down the steps in her high heels with surprising agility, leaving neat little footprints in the dusting of snow that had accumulated on the ground. She practically sprinted across the drive, the loose gravel not even slowing her down, and aimed a key ring at her car. It beeped and the trunk popped and Stella caught up just in time for the expensive German-engineered mechanism to glide soundlessly open, the tasteful interior lighting revealing one sorry-looking dead man who, judging by his color, had been departed from the living long enough to get used to the idea.

Chapter Four
    “There you have it,” Priss said, hand on a hip in the manner of a game show hostess, gesturing at the unfortunate fellow with a flourish. “I think it’s time we expedite his disposal, don’t you agree?”
    “Holy fuck,” Stella breathed. “He’s dead. ”
    Priss shot her a look of surprise. “Well, yes, obviously. That’s why I called you.” She gave the trunk lid a little shove, and it closed as easily as it opened, sealing its ghastly cargo inside. Stella couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful not to have to look at the dead guy—his lips had pulled back from his teeth in a sort of leer that, combined with his glassy open eyes, gave him the effect of an especially bold voyeur.
    “Me? What do I want with your dead guy?”
    Priss turned and started toward the house. “Stella, I realize that you usually like to do the job beginning to finish, but I just got it started for you. Don’t worry, I’ll pay your full rate, but all I really need from you is the, ah … cleanup.”
    “Hold on a minute,” Stella said to Priss’s retreating backside. Her heart was going at a solid clip. She’d seen a variety of dead guys, starting with her own husband, four years ago. Ollie hadn’t been very pretty with the side of his skull cracked open with his own wrench, but then again, he hadn’t