“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 sexual orientations. To Samantha, Erica said, “Okay, that’s enough. My living room is destroyed. My dining room table is covered with broken glass. 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 assaulting Kelly with a fireplace poker. We hadn’t known it, but she had a record for felony assault. 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 Saturday?”
Everyone checked their calendars. Saturday 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 ass off. What the hell?” 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 glass crunching under our feet. A little while later, Erica went back to the kitchen, her bag full.
She dunked a glass 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 glass and emptied it. “Samantha, this is some damned good punch.”
Samantha beamed. “Thanks.”
“Maybe you should ease up on the punch.” I tried to take the glass from her. She didn’t let me. “You took those Valiums earlier.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” Erica chugged a third glass 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.”
“Fuck that. The kids and that ass I’m married to will be home in a few minutes anyway. But the hell if I care. The lazy bum 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—”
“Fuck that. Joshua can get his own ass 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 bastard 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?