Organize Your Corpses Read Online Free Page B

Marie.
    “Are you kidding? It’s pouring rain out. These cream puffs will be back in a New York minute.”
    I picked up the dog leashes and made a lunge for Sweet Marie. She’s the hard one to catch.
    Jack said, “Why don’t I make some dinner and we can talk about that other dog opportunity when you get back?”
    Jack’s an enthusiastic cook. The problem is, his kitchen’s so full of bike parts he can’t reach the stove. He creates a cyclone in my miniature galley kitchen every time he gets the urge to sauté. Anyway, my plan was to have a large bowl of Super Fudge Chunk for dinner. It’s my signature dish. I thought Mars bars would make an elegant dessert.
    “No thanks to dinner and dog.”
    Jack said, “Let me know if you change your mind.”
    I snapped the leash on Sweet Marie. “There will be no other dog, Jack. See these two? They’re quite enough.”
    Jack picked up the rest of the oranges and deposited them on my tiny kitchen counter. “No harm in trying. This poor fella is due to be euthanized.”
    “Low blow, Jack. I didn’t just fall off the ice-cream truck, you know. And, speaking of ice cream, you stay away from that Ben & Jerry’s.”
    “You think you can’t trust me? I’m your friend.”
    “Leave it. This means you.”
    I thumped down the stairs with a dog under each arm. Okay, I was smiling. There are way worse fates than having a couple of souped-up pooches and a landlord who is big in pet rescue. And who could fix your bicycle and engage you in a conversation about Heidegger at the same time. If that was what you needed.
    Most women would be driven nuts by the fact that Jack rarely opened his mail, or that he loved to cook but never had any ingredients. Any woman with a tendency to plan might think Jack should finish his PhD, ditch the bike shop, get a real job, and start contributing to a 401(k). He might be damned cute with that lean body, the mussed-up hair, and that lopsided goofy grin, but he’d be a serious relationship challenge. If he were your boyfriend, your first task would be to change him.
    But friends accept each other the way they are. So five minutes later we were curled up in my cozy living room. Jack took my word for it: aside from unconditional dog love, sometimes the only solution to getting your life back on target is the right ice cream. This was one of those times. I decided I could refresh the medicine cabinet and fluff the towels later.
    Of course, if Jack were a girlfriend, by this point we both would have chucked our bras, and jumped into flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers. We would feel we could cry if we needed to. Even after all these years, I wasn’t on crying terms with Jack.
    He said, “I can’t imagine you stuck in a creepy old building with Hellfire Henley.”
    I shrugged and poked at my container to get the last chunk stuck in the corner.
    Jack said, “I’m impressed. To go right into her lair, without backup. That took guts.”
    I said modestly, “Sally offered and I turned her down. I don’t know what you two are going on about. She’s just an elderly lady with a problem.”
    “I remember how you stood up to her in class to save Pepper’s butt. You earned the undying respect of everyone in the class at that point.”
    “Pepper would have done the same for me, back then,” I said.
    I did not add that she wouldn’t have needed to. I didn’t go to school with long sleeves on to hide my bruises. My mother might have made the tongues wag, but she never would have let one of the many men in her life beat me.
    Jack said, “Yeah, but you were the only one with the nerve. Tell me you’re not going to do that job.”
    “Let it go, Jack,” I said, scraping hard at the bottom of the ice-cream container with my spoon.
    Jack patted my hand. Soothingly.
    That caused me to blurt, “Miss Henley’s just a troubled old woman with a sadistic streak. I’m way more upset by nearly running into Pepper at Tang’s.”
    Jack said, “But you said you