Deconstructed(31)

“Hey, Mrs. Crosby. I’m Ty Walker. I think you know my father. He banks with your husband.” The kid reached out a hand; his smile reminded me of a self-satisfied sloth. Not that he looked slow and cuddly, just well aware of his powers of adorability. And smirky.

“Yeah, I think we met once. At the club?” I ignored his hand, and he dropped it, not looking the least insulted. He seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t stand on formalities. Question was, What was he doing in my store, looking chummy with my edgy, never-wore-a-hair-bow-in-her-life assistant?

“Yes, ma’am, I think so,” Ty said.

Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. That’s why he looked familiar. I had watched that as a teenager, and now my own daughter binged it on one of the many streaming services we just had to have.

“I won’t be much longer, Ty. You can go on to, uh, where are we going?” Ruby asked Ty.

“Deacon Blues. And I’ll wait for you in my car. We can swing back for your car afterward. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Crosby.”

“You can call me Cricket.” I eyed Ruby, wondering what in the world was going on. Ty Walker was miles from being her type. Not that I truly knew her type, but she had a nose ring, tattoos, and a great disdain for anything Lilly Pulitzer. I know because she had tossed me a look that said, Club Med just threw up on your dress when I came in.

After Ty had left and we were alone, Ruby withdrew a sheet of paper from her purse. “I missed my class to go see my cousin who’s a private investigator. Here.”

She jabbed a wrinkled sheet of paper at me, and I took it. North Star Investigations? What was the deal with her cousins and astronomy?

“This was nice of you,” I said.

She gave a lift of her shoulder. “I’m invested now. Juke worked down south for the Mandeville police force as a detective. He’s been here for a few years, and he’s good at his job. Maybe he can get what you need.”

“I sort of already hired a guy.”

“Oh, well then.” She snatched the paper back and shoved it into her bag. “I’m glad you’re . . .” She made a circular motion with her hand.

“Doing something?” I said.

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re ready to nail that asshole to the wall.” Ruby’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Why? You’re right. And I met with an attorney today. Her name is Jacqueline Morsett, and I paid her retainer this morning. I’ve got my hammer, baby.”

Ruby chuckled. “Yeah, you do. And I’ve heard of Jackie. She’s good. If I’d had . . . um, if my cousin had used her instead of some idiot, things would be different. She is very good at her job.”

I noted her stumble. Hmm. I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder toward the parking lot. “So what’s with Ty Walker?”

Her cheeks pinked. “Um, nothing. He came in to get some stuff his dad ordered, and we, um, just struck up a . . . friendship. I guess.”

“Oh,” I said with a grin, and her flush deepened, which was cute because other than her being irritated at me in the car the night we’d done the stakeout, this was the most human I had seen my little robotic assistant. Adorable. “Well, it’s nice to have ‘friends.’ Especially really handsome ones who drive a BMW. Just be careful with that one, though. He seems a bit—”

“What?” Ruby’s expression darkened.

Something in her tone told me to tread carefully. Her hackles were up, and I was intuitive enough to see through the defenses she often mounted. Ruby likely hadn’t been raised like me—carefully tended by a mother with expectations, means, and the appropriate shade of bubble-bath-pink nail polish on her fingernails. I had been coddled. She likely wouldn’t know coddling if it whopped her in the head. “He’s . . . I don’t know. He reminds me of Scott, and look where that got me.”

“I’m not you.”

Touché.

I decided to change the subject. “What did you do with the dress you took last week? The secret project? I’m curious.”

Ruby stilled, and for a second or two I felt that she was deciding whether to trust me. I hoped she would. After all, she knew that Scott had asked me to try anal beads. And that my marriage was about to implode spectacularly. Quid pro quo and all that.

“I like to play with remaking dresses. My gran taught me to sew when I was little, and I’m resourceful.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and stared at the shelf of porcelain eggs I had put out to highlight Easter.

“Sounds interesting. Have you finished the one you’re making with the Givenchy?”

“I’m about done.” Eyes still on the eggs.

“Can I see it? I mean, I would love to.”

“I may wear it to that Gritz thing with Ty. Maybe. He wants me to go.” She sounded like she’d rather tend lepers in quarantine than go to a gala. I didn’t really blame her.

“Please bring it. I love repurposing things. Maybe you can make me a dress sometime.” If I liked it. What did I know? She might Frankenstein something hideous, and then I would feel obliged.

Ruby finally looked at me, sweet vulnerability in her eyes, which sort of disarmed me. Ruby was stoic, distant, covered with so much armor I could only see the whites of her eyes at times, but in her gaze now, I could see that she wanted me to like what she did. “Okay. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”