Steamed

barked at Phil. “I was never involved with Eric! I had one blind date with him! One! The night he was killed. I didn’t even know him. I didn’t tell you because I felt sorry for you and Mrs. Rafferty. Your wife, by the way? Remember her?”
    Phil stared at me in drunken surprise. “You two weren’t...? You didn’t know Eric?”
    Phil’s revolting assault had destroyed my patience and sympathy. With no explanation, I said, “I’m trying to figure out what happened that night. Why he was killed. Now tell me,” I demanded fiercely, “he was broke, right? Were you paying his bills for him?”
    Eric’s father nodded dejectedly and rested his chin on his hands. “Yeah, I was paying off everything. Sheryl didn’t like it. She said we should let him bail himself out of his own mess. But I had to do it.”
    “So you knew about his financial problems before he died.”
    “Yes, yes. Just come sit back down with me.” He patted the spot next to him on the couch.
    Fat chance, Phil. I didn’t care what grief had done to him. Never again was I getting anywhere near him.
    “I’m going now,” I told Phil. “Don’t call me. Ever. If you ever do anything to remind me of your existence, I’ll call the police.”
    I bolted out of the house. My hands were shaking as I started the ignition. Thank God I hadn’t touched that whiskey. Cold sober, I was in no condition to drive. Only a few blocks away from the Raffertys’, I pulled over and called Adrianna, who picked up her cell right away. I told her about Phil’s horrendous attempt at seduction.
    “Oh my God, Chloe! Are you okay? I hope you told that bastard off,” she yelled angrily. “Hold your head still, or you’re going to be lopsided,” I heard her say. “Sorry, I’m pinning up someone’s hair right now. Some girl is having her eighteenth birthday party tonight, and her mother hired me to do everyone’s hair. Okay, so you beat that Phil to a bloody pulp, right?”
    “Yeah, right. I just told him to stay away from me or I’d call the police. But I did find out that he and Sheryl have been paying off all the money Eric owed,” I said, pleased to have taken advantage of Phil’s drunken pass to extract the information. “That’s what he said. And I believe him.”
    “Chloe, I told you those people were bad news. How gross is that? Hitting on your dead son’s girlfriend?”
    “Well, I did clear up the confusion about my being Eric’s girlfriend.”
    “Whatever. Have you told Josh about this yet? I bet he’s going to have a fit. Maybe he’ll do something dramatic like run over there and defend your honor! Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
    “No, it would not be awesome. I don’t even know if I want to tell Josh about it. It’s making me want to puke just telling you. Anyhow, I’m going home to make something to eat and then I’m going down to see Josh at the restaurant. You want to meet me there?”
    “Sorry, I can’t. I’m going to be working all night. The mother is paying me to stick around in case anyone needs their hair touched up. Talk about spoiled. I mean, special, right? Just kidding,” Ade said for the obvious benefit of her clients. “This must be so fun for you girls, huh?” she cooed sweetly. “I gotta go, Chloe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    I’d calmed down enough to be safe behind the wheel, but my lousy mood persisted all the way home. Once there, I decided to tidy up in hopeful anticipation of returning home later that night with Josh. There was nothing romantic about making love amidst a pile of dirty laundry, so I grabbed a load and headed outside, down the back steps, and into the basement of the house. Doing laundry in the winter meant teetering down icy steps with a basket of clothes while praying for survival. On this occasion, the steps were safe, but there was a nasty surprise awaiting me when I opened the door to the laundry room. Sitting on top of the dryer reading US Weekly was Veronica, the Peroxide Queen.
    “Hi.” She beamed at me. “Chloe, right? Noah said it’d be okay if I did my laundry here. My machine isn’t working. He went to Chicago for the weekend, though, so I’m alone tonight. What’re you doin’?”
    “Laundry,” I said.
    Her shorts were shorter than short. The weather wasn’t that hot, for Christ’s sake. Well, unless you were sitting on a clothes dryer relishing the vibrations of the wrinkle-free cycle. Although the last person I wanted to be stuck in a laundry room with