House of Blues

and furthermore, two out of
the three had said they'd have known her if she had. The third one
indicated that if Evelyne were white, she would probably have been
pretty conspicuous and might not have even been welcome.
    All three could have been lying, but the last two
churches looked a great deal more promising.
    She never did get anyone at Great Mount Precious.
That made it attractive, like ice cream on a diet.
    And the church lady at Blood of the Lamb Divine
Evangelical Following hadn't been nice. That made her attractive.
    Besides that, she wouldn't give out even the tiniest
bit of information, would only make Skip an appointment to see the
pastor—Sunday at three.
    Skip went home feeling almost relaxed—it was Friday
and she was about to have a day off St. Expedite could take over for
the next twenty-four hours. When she had sworn to learn to meditate(a
task at which she'd been less than successful), she'd also tried her
hand at visualizing. That was easier. In fact, she could do it with
her eyes open and her mind on her driving. She tried it now, seeing
the gentle saint's foot come slowly back, disappear behind his robe,
then come forward quickly, displacing the robe, causing it to flip up
unabashedly—delivering a good swift kick to the butt of her
problem.
    " Steve? Oh, Steve, " she hollered,
unlocking the door. She wanted some kicks of her own—dinner and
some music, say. Or skip the music, maybe just a walk by the river.
    No one answered. Maybe Steve was at the Big House.
    Jimmy Dee answered the door. "Darling! Thank
God. I've been dying of boredom. Your bear took the kids and the
animal out for a romp. The quiet is piercing my eardrums."
    "Shall I shriek and bark a little?"
    "If I'd known you were into leashes, I'd have
gotten you one with rhinestones."
    "How about getting me some lovely white wine?"
    "Well, aren't we the libertine."
    But he got it, and a glass for himself as well.
    "Let's go in the front parlor, shall we? Geneese
never dusts it, but on the other hand the monsters never enter it—an
excellent trade—off in my opinion."
    The curtains were drawn. It seemed almost gloomy, a
word she'd never associated with the Big House.
    "It's deathly quiet."
    Dee-Dee sighed. "How values change. I was
actually lonely, can you fathom it? You'd think I would have been
thrilled."
    "Where's Layne?"
    " Damn that man-mountain of yours! He's ruined my
life."
    "Oh, for heaven's sake, Dee-Dee."
    " Well, he has. He brought that wretched animal
into the house, and the minute he did, my whole world disintegrated."
    "Oh, no. You mean the allergy."
    "Kenny adores the dog. He's a new child—a dry
child, I might add, if you take my meaning. Sheila adores the dog as
well. For once they agree on something. They're almost civil to each
other, they're so pathetically eager to feed the little thing and
take care of it, no doubt proving themselves worthy so nasty old
Uncle Jimmy doesn't send it back to the pound where I cordially wish
it had met its demise."
    " Dee-Dee!"
    " It's ruining my house! All my beautiful
renovations—gone. Chewed to rags and ribbons."
    " Well, they were just for the kids anyway."
    "I am a homosexual, in case you haven't heard. I
need smothering, fussy decor, or I swoon."
    Usually he only did the swish act when he thought
Skip was depressed. Today it had a different quality—she thought he
was avoiding something.
    " I have this weird feeling there's more."
    " You asked where Layne was?"
    " Oh, no. I don't think I can stand it."
    " Well, he hasn't dumped me yet. But he may—over
that precious little Angel."
    "He's really, really allergic?"
    "Yes. He has to take about four pills even to
come over here, and by then he's so loaded he falls asleep over
dinner. Do you know how rare it is to be allergic to a dog? Cats, no
surprises. But hardly anybody's allergic to dogs."
    " You'd think he'd have noticed it before."
    "Oh, he's not allergic to dogs. Never been
allergic to dogs in his life. Only Angel."
    " The name stuck, I guess."
    "I guess. Nobody's come up with anything else."
    "Oh my God, if you haven't, you must be
depressed."
    He grinned ever so slightly. "Well, Angel kind
of fits her."
    "How serious is this Layne thing?"
    "I guess it's too soon to tell. We've only had
the damn dog a couple of days. He's called an allergist, but he
hasn't seen her yet."
    "That wasn't what I meant."
    "Oh. You mean Layne and me. Do I ask you
personal questions?"
    " Now and then. Whenever the laryngitis