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I ignore the offer and charge straight into his house. “I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s about Larry Leopold. What do you know about him?”
“You’ve lived on this street longer than I have. You should know more than I do.”
“Yeah, but you’re a man.”
“How nice that you noticed.”
“Men share things with one another that they don’t share with women.”
“This is true.”
“So why would someone in a white van be spying on Larry? What’s he been up to?”
Jonas lets out a deep sigh. “Oh boy.”
“You know something.”
“I know nothing. Nothing that I can confirm.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
He gestures to the sofa. “Have a seat, Angie. Make yourself comfortable while I get us some rehydration.”
He heads into the kitchen and I sit down on his sofa. Through the window facing my house, I notice movement in my neighbor’s house. It’s my nemesis, Agnes Kaminsky, and she’s standing at her living room window, smoking a cigarette and looking right at me. While people may think I’m the neighborhood snoop, Agnes is the real deal, and now she probably assumes Jonas and I have a thing going on. I can’t blame her for assuming the worst. I’ve been guilty of the same. I simply wave at her, to let her know that I see her and I don’t care what she thinks. It’s less suspicious to be blatant rather than sneaky.
She glowers at me and walks away from the window, no doubt with one of her usual harrumphs of disgust.
From the kitchen comes the merry sound of ice jingling in the cocktail shaker. Oh no, he’s going to rehydrate with booze, and I suppose I’ll have to sip some too if I hope to get any information out of him. Jonas comes back into the living room deftly carrying two very full martini glasses, each with an olive bobbing inside, and he hands me a drink.
“Bottoms up, Angie!”
One drink. Only one drink.I take a sip and oh my, it’s good. He does know how to make a martini.
“So you want to know about Larry,” he says.
“You’re going to tell me, right?”
“I have no proof. Only suspicions. Not exactlyactionable,as we used to say when I was a Navy SEAL.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
“The thing is, all men are alike. We red-blooded ones are, anyway. We’re always perusing the, er, merchandise. And sometimes we do more than just look.”
“Larry’s got a girlfriend?”
Jonas pops the olive into his mouth and smiles. “You see? I didn’t even have to tell you.”
“But—but what about Lorelei?”
He sighs. “Sad, isn’t it? What some wives will put up with?”
I sink back against the sofa cushions, momentarily breathless from the revelation.
“Why do you seem so surprised, Angie?”
