The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 40

All of us shared a heavy sigh.

"But wait. All's not lost," Erica said. "I had Theresa, Dr. Orenstein's nurse. I'm thinking we need to follow up on the doctor. Evidently, he had a secret thing for Mich.e.l.le."

"Thing?" I echoed.

"Obsession," Erica clarified.

"A secret obsession," Lindsay repeated. "That could be a motivation for murder."

"Maybe," I agreed.

Erica continued, leaning in, "Evidently, Jon's story about her going to a fertility specialist was partially true. Mich.e.l.le did ask for a referral. But Dr. O insisted she didn't need one and persisted in treating her himself. It's possible Mich.e.l.le didn't tell Jon the truth, letting him think she was going to someone else. Jon wasn't fond of Dr. O and had told her to change doctors."

Lindsay's eyes widened. "Now, that is interesting-"

"You b.i.t.c.h!" someone shouted from the living room.

I jerked around, catching Heather tossing a gla.s.s of punch into Rachel's face.

"How dare ..." Eyelashes dripping, mouth agape, Rachel grabbed the first thing she touched-a potted plant-and threw it. Heather ducked. The pot hit the wall and shattered. Dirt flew everywhere. The plant landed on Kelly's head.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Kelly screeched, untangling philodendron leaves from her hair. "I just paid two hundred dollars to get my hair done."

"Uh-oh," I mumbled, watching Kelly lurch to her feet. "This is getting ugly. Fast."

"Ladies," Erica shouted over the mounting wave of expletives filling the room. She waved her arms. The cuss words just kept flowing.

"If you paid that, you were robbed," Rachel sneered. "I've seen better dye jobs walking out of Fantasic Sams."

Kelly charged at Rachel like a bull, nostrils flaring, fury burning in her eyes. She tackled Rachel to the ground, and a catfight ensued. There was hair flying, clothes tearing, fingernails clawing. A couple of the other guests jumped into the fray before we could get it broken up, and before we knew it, we were ducked behind the kitchen island while things crashed and shattered all around us.

"Samantha, what the h.e.l.l did you put in that punch?" Erica snapped.

Crack.

Samantha shrugged.

"Just alcohol," I said. "Right, Samantha? You only put alcohol, like you said."

"Well ..."

Crash.

"Dammit, I think that was the plasma TV." Erica poked her head up. "Yes, that was the plasma." She glared at Samantha.

"You'll pay for that, wh.o.r.e!" Kelly screeched.

"What did you put in the punch?" I repeated.

"No drugs." Samantha raised her hands. "I swear."

"Then what is in that punch?" I eyeballed the bowl, not sure whether I should empty it to keep them all from drinking more or just put it away, in case someone had a bad reaction. "It can't be just fruit juice and ginger ale."

"No, it's not." Samantha sighed. "I got a truth potion from someone I know. She promised it was safe, made from all organic ingredients. I've used her potions before. Never had a problem."

"A potion?" I echoed.

Ka-blam.

Erica sank to the floor. "Samantha, do you have a Valium on you?"

"Sure." Samantha produced a bottle from her skirt pocket, dumped a handful out, and handed them to Erica. "Take a few."

"Thanks." Erica dry-swallowed half of them. "I can't believe this."

Smash.

"Hey," Samantha said, sounding a touch defensive. "If it wasn't for the punch, do you think we'd have what we do on Dr. O?"

Erica shrugged. And sighed. "Point taken."

"Thank you."

Crack.

Lindsay giggled.

We all looked at her. She was batting her eyelashes at her new friend, Nicole.

"Do you really think she's turning lesbian?" I whispered to Erica.

"She's no more a lesbian than I am. But I'm not going to tell her that. She'll figure it out. But I will say one thing-she has great taste in women. Nicole's very attractive." That statement had me second-guessing both their s.e.xual orientations. To Samantha, Erica said, "Okay, that's enough. My living room is destroyed. My dining room table is covered with broken gla.s.s. I'd like to preserve at least some of my furniture. How about making it stop?"

"Very well." After straightening her hair, Samantha stood up. "Excuse me, but ... dinner is served."

Silence.

It was a freaking miracle.

CHAPTER 9.

An hour later, Lindsay, Erica, Samantha, Nicole, and I were sitting in the middle of a war zone. The police had just left, toting away Rachel for a.s.saulting Kelly with a fireplace poker. We hadn't known it, but she had a record for felony a.s.sault. If not for her alibi, she would have moved to the top of our Persons of Interest list.

As it was now, we had only one name on that list-Dr. O, the OB. And at this point, we didn't have any substantial proof he belonged there.

"What now?" Lindsay asked, glancing at her watch, then at Nicole. "It's almost eight. I need to get home and relieve the sitter soon."

"It's okay," I told her. "I think we've accomplished all we can tonight. I'll take what we found out to the police tomorrow. Maybe they can do something with it."

Erica and Samantha agreed that was a good idea.

Lindsay looked unsure as she stood. "All right. I'll go. Do we want to meet tomorrow sometime?"

Erica shook her head. "Tomorrow's bad for me. I have meetings all day. What about Sat.u.r.day?"

Everyone checked their calendars. Sat.u.r.day it was. Lunch at Samantha's.

Nicole gave us all a handshake. "This was the most interesting dinner party I've ever attended." She left with Lindsay.

Erica headed into the great room to look at her smashed television. I joined her.

"That is a sad, sad sight," I said.

Erica shrugged. "I was thinking about getting something bigger. I work my a.s.s off. What the h.e.l.l?" She circled around the far end and stooped down to pick it up. I took the other end, and together we hauled the broken TV out to the garage. When we went back inside, Samantha was hard at work, cleaning up the kitchen. Erica found some trash bags, handed me one, and together we picked our way through the great room, broken gla.s.s crunching under our feet. A little while later, Erica went back to the kitchen, her bag full.

She dunked a gla.s.s into the punch bowl.

I waved my hands. "Um, Erica ..."

Too late. She'd downed the punch faster than a thirsty sailor. Smiling, she smacked her lips. "That punch is good."

"It's lethal," I reminded her.

"It is not. It's just punch. And a few organically grown herbs." That was yet to be proven. "I'm not going to get violent, and I have nothing to hide." She refilled her gla.s.s and emptied it. "Samantha, this is some d.a.m.ned good punch."

Samantha beamed. "Thanks."

"Maybe you should ease up on the punch." I tried to take the gla.s.s from her. She didn't let me. "You took those Valiums earlier."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine." Erica chugged a third gla.s.s then crunched across the room to the couch. She plopped down, flung a leg over her knee.

She patted the seat and crooked a finger at me. "Come here. Let's talk."

I lifted an empty flowerpot. "But don't you think we should get things cleaned up? I'm happy to help."

"f.u.c.k that. The kids and that a.s.s I'm married to will be home in a few minutes anyway. But the h.e.l.l if I care. The lazy b.u.m has nothing better to do. He can clean it up tomorrow."

I exchanged looks with Samantha.

Samantha glanced at her watch. "I need to get the twins into bed."

"Yes," I agreed. "It's getting late-"

"f.u.c.k that. Joshua can get his own a.s.s in bed. He's not two. I need someone to talk to."

Samantha made a hasty exit, leaving me with Erica, who was in the mood to talk.

Erica let her head flop back. Her eyelids fluttered closed. "Did you know that dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d hasn't even tried to get a job? It's been five years. Five long years. He knew I wanted to have another baby before Paris started school. But now ..." Rocking her head to the side, she looked at me. "It's too late."

"Oh, Erica. Are you sure it's too late? You're not even thirty-five yet, are you? I've heard of women in their forties-"

"I can't stand him. Can't stand his voice. Can't stand looking at him. And most definitely can't stand him touching me." Crossing her arms over her chest, she gripped her upper arms. "Can you blame me for taking a lover?"

"Um ..."

"Okay, maybe some people would. But I didn't plan on cheating. It just sort of happened. We were both there. Lindsay had to leave, and the next thing I knew, we were making out in her living room."

Was Erica telling me ... was she sleeping with Lindsay's ex-boyfriend? Was Erica the other woman?

"Who?" I asked.

"Matt. I thought you figured it out already. That's why you asked me about him, right?" Erica got up, sauntered into the kitchen, helped herself to another gla.s.s of punch, and drank it without taking a break to breathe.

In the interest of preserving her marriage-which was probably on its way to h.e.l.l, anyway-I took the liberty of emptying the punch bowl down the drain. "Actually, no. I asked because I wanted to return his stuff. It's still in my garage."

"Here." She scribbled a phone number on a napkin. "His phone number." She slid the napkin across the granite counter. "The best time to reach him is early afternoon."

"Thanks." I tucked it into my pocket just as the echo of voices signaled the return of Erica's family. "Well, I'd better be going."

Erica threw her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're here. We're going to be good friends. I can tell already."

I wasn't sure about that, not after she found out about her cat. Speaking of which ... "Um, Erica, I need to talk to you about your missing cat."

"What the h.e.l.l happened here?" Erica's husband bellowed.

"Later," Erica said, shooing me toward the door. "Paris, upstairs." She pointed and a pretty little girl of about ten stomped toward the staircase. Then Erica turned an angry glare at her husband. "Listen up, a.s.shole. I've had one h.e.l.l of a day. Don't you dare take that tone with me."

I made a beeline for the front door.

The sounds of their argument followed me through the house and even outside. As I scuttled across the front lawn, heading home, someone grabbed my arm, giving it a tug.

I gave a little yipe! and spun around, half-expecting something to fly at my head.

Jon chuckled. Sneaky b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"OhmyG.o.d, where did you come from?" I asked him, clapping a hand over my racing heart.

"I was just heading to the party."

"You're a little late."

"I'm sorry. I had some things to handle at work. They couldn't wait."