11
Interesting,” said Marla. She was zooming toward the open gates, whose doors began juddering closed before Boyd was even through. Someone had been watching to make sure we actually left—and didn’t come back. “Did you know that about Holly and Warren Broome?” Marla asked.
I thought back to Warren Broome’s forlornness at the birthday party. He had seemed to be feeling uncomfortable, as if everyone there knew his sordid history. But more important, he had stared, unblinking, at Holly.
“Yes, okay, maybe he appeared lovesick. I wasn’t aware of any affair between Holly and Warren. You know I depend on you to keep me up on these things. Warren was gaping at Holly at the party last night.”
“Was she gaping back?”
“Not really,” I said. “She seemed to be avoiding him.”
“Patsie Boatfield’s so
