He Was Her Man Read Online Free

oil-spotted concrete. They poked at old chewing gum, at gravel, at weeds growing up through a crack. They inspected every last centimeter of the Ladies itself, though Madeline swore that she knew she hadn’t dropped it in there. The more she thought about it, the more she remembered shaking her fingers one last time in the sunshine to make sure they were dry before she put on her ring because she was prone to dermatitis, she had sensitive skin. The ring had simply disappeared into thin air.
    Well, it couldn’t have done that, said Olive. Things just didn’t dematerialize. They weren’t snatched up by haints. Olive was a practical woman who’d always lived in the here and now, and by God, that diamond was here, and it was here now, and they would find it if they just persevered. So they did the search all over again. Frontwards. Backwards. Sideways. Widening the area each time, but with no luck. Madeline was crying all the while, blubbering like a baby, talking about how much that diamond was worth. A quarter of a million dollars, she said. Insured, of course. But she couldn’t report it missing. Not after that robbery that she and Dean had had at his beach house last summer, when the thieves broke in and knocked them around and tied them up and took every last piece of jewelry she had. My stars, said Olive. Dean had given her this ring as a sort of consolation prize while they were looking around to replace things with the insurance money. Not that you could ever replace those pieces with sentimental value. Of course not, said Olive, shaking her head, remembering that pink-gold locket with the little engraved roses, pictures of her first dog, Pokey, inside, that a john had ripped right off her neck 40 years ago. Thinking about it still made her mad. But because of that robbery, said Madeline, her insurance premiums were already so high, if she reported this… Besides, she wanted the ring that Dean had given her, the very one, not some replacement. Then she broke into sobs so heartrending, Olive almost joined her.
    After a while Madeline got control of herself, blew her nose in a white linen handkerchief trimmed with both cutwork and lace, rocked back on those alligator heels, and moaned, “On top of that, now I’m late for my meeting. And it’s an important meeting.”
    Olive was sure it was. What other kind of meeting would a woman wrapped in linen and silk and alligator and diamonds and gold and stainless steel and a silver Mercedes be going to?
    Madeline reached in her alligator bag and pulled out a little notepad and a gold pen. She scribbled her name, Madeline Brooks, and the words Arlington Hotel, Hot Springs. “That’s where I’m staying.”
    Olive nodded. Anybody who knew anything about Hot Springs knew the Arlington. It and the Palace were the two grand hotels left from the good old days when Hot Springs was something. Al Capone had kept a suite there.
    “I hate to leave.” Madeline turned her head and closed her eyes and threw her naked right hand over her pretty white-silk-and-yellow-linen-covered breast. “But I must. With the hope, of course, that I’ll hear from you soon. That you’ll call and say that you’ve found my ring and you’re waiting for me to come and claim it and give you your thousand-dollar reward.”
    Olive gasped. A thousand dollars! Now wouldn’t that come in handy? That trip she and Loydell were planning to Morocco.
    “Cash,” said Madeline. “To anyone who finds Dean’s token of affection. Oh, Olive, please, please, find my ring.” Tears danced in her emerald green eyes.
    Olive had never seen anyone with eyes that color. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Unless the angels have swooped down and carried it off for the Good Lord to wear on His pinky, you’re gonna hear from me soon. I promise you that.” With any luck, she’d find it right after Madeline left, bring it into town with her on her way to Jinx’s party, stop into the Arlington, call