Mean Woman Blues

thousand dollars,” she murmured and stepped back, as if assessing. “Not bad. Not a bad price at all. Are you sure you can’t get any more? My client has a
huge
estate— obscene, really— and I want to set six guardian angels at strategic spots around the perimeter. One just isn’t going to make it.”
    The shopkeeper looked unhappy, a man who badly wanted the money but couldn’t deliver the goods. “I try. You come back tomorrow. I call dealer.” He shrugged. “Maybe. You never know.” Like he wanted the sale so much he’d stay up all night making angels himself.
    Skip looked at her watch. “I’m sorry. I have to go back to Dallas in an hour. Can’t you call him now?”
    “Sure, sure, I call now.” He got out his Rolodex and picked a card.
    Bingo
, Skip thought and chose that moment to pull out her badge.
    She took him down to the station, calling in Hagerty and LeDoux. The three of them spent an unlovely couple of hours terrifying the poor man, who maintained that he’d bought the angel from a friend of his brother’s known only as “Joe.” Sure enough, the Rolodex card said simply “Joe.” But it did provide a phone number, and that was enough to get an address. A Joseph D’Amico lived there.
    Hagerty went out to tackle the brother, while Skip and LeDoux checked out Joe’s house. No one was home.
    They decided to wait for him, and as they waited, cramped in the car, Skip thought of the people she needed to talk to: Jacomine’s sons, the currently incarcerated Daniel and the newly reinvented Isaac, whom she had once known as The White Monk; Daniel’s daughter, Lovelace; his wife, Irene (formerly known as Tourmaline), who was a missionary and probably not available; people who’d been close to him in the past.
Particularly
, she thought,
Jacomine’s ex-wife, Rosemarie.
    During Skip’s last encounter with Jacomine, he’d actually had Rosemarie kidnapped and tried to force her to charter a plane for him. It occurred to Skip she might still be mad about that.
    * * *
    Dressing for dinner on a random Thursday night, Karen Wright was hearing things she couldn’t believe, things that excited and terrified her, made her go wet between the legs. Her husband’s words, the plan he was unfolding, the daring idea he was sharing with her for the first time, actually excited her sexually, made her dizzy, head all muzzy. She’d never in her life felt such a sensation as she felt now, just kind of standing in her walk-in closet, trying to pick out something to wear.
    “David.” She felt as if she were going to faint. “David, come here.” She took his hand and held it to her crotch, so he could feel the impression he was having on her. She wanted him to understand how deeply moved she was, how completely, one hundred percent behind him she was. To her surprise, he snapped at her. “For God’s sake, Karen, not now.”
    He hadn’t gotten it. “No, I didn’t want to… I just wanted you to…” She couldn’t think of a way to express it. He selected a tie and left the closet. She had an inkling of what was going on here: He thought she was trying to seduce him for some ulterior purpose; he was slightly suspicious of her lately.
    They were going to dinner at the home of her Uncle Guy, known to most of his fellow citizens as State Senator Guy McLean. He and David wanted to get to know each other. Just a family thing, Karen had thought, until a few minutes ago, when David unveiled his plan, a plan to change the world in a far, far bigger way than Karen would ever have dared dream. He’d told her her role, what he expected from her tonight and why, and what it could lead to. She was still dizzy from it as she stood there trying to figure out what to wear. For Uncle Guy, and especially for Aunt Carol Ann, nothing too sexy or young or hip. A white linen pantsuit should do it, with a long white scarf. And the diamond earrings David had given her for her birthday.
    Hair up or down? She usually wore it down for relatives, thinking it made her look more innocent, less a target of derision. But in view of what she knew now, up. Definitely. Sophisticated. In command. That was who she was from now on.
    Guy and Carol Ann lived in Turtle Creek, the fanciest section of Dallas. Before her disgrace, Karen had been there many times, but David never had. It would be her job to be his guide.
    Knowing Uncle Guy, she’d told her husband to wear a suit, but knowing David, there was really no need. It was the