Opal tips her head to the side. “Not a bad idea.” She opens her paper gown a notch and takes a quick glance at the goods. “One look at what I’ve got, and that man will not only give me a discount, he’ll beg to take me to dinner. My breasts haven’t aged a day since I was twenty-two.”
Tilly snorts. “That’s because you’ve kept them hermetically sealed. Mine have been exposed to an element or two. Just last week, I went up on the roof of the manor, took off all my clothes, and napped for two hours straight.”
“Two hours?” I muse. “Tilly, you could have burned your delicate bits and pieces to a crisp.”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I brought along a tub of margarine I found in the walk-in and slathered it all over my body. And before you get testy with me”—she shoots a look to Opal—“I put it right back in the fridge when I was through.”
“Great.” I sigh. “I wondered why it was so low when I was scooping it out and dotting it on every pancake order I had this morning.”
Opal growls, but lucky for Tilly, the door swings open and in strides a tall, classically handsome, faux tan sporting, wavy-haired Dr. Parker Goldman.
His face brightens at the sight of us.
“Well, if it isn’t a trio of lovely ladies. What’s on the agenda this afternoon, girls?” He steps over to the patients in question.
Tilly whips open her paper gown and flashes him with a pair of rosy girls who, true to Tilly’s word, look as if they’ve seen a bit too much sunshine—and have effectively turned into fried bologna.
“I’m here for the works,” she shouts as if she needed to struggle to be seen in a crowd.
Opal clears her throat and carefully peels open her gown as well. And let’s be honest, as much as I don’t want to look, a part of me demands to know if hermetically sealing off delicate body parts is something I should look into.
“Holy wow.” Parker takes a staggering step back, seemingly mesmerized by Opal’s youthful appeal. “You are both stunning in every capacity.” He motions for them to close up shop and they’re slow to comply.
Opal nods. “I’d like the works myself. I’ve got crow’s feet, frown lines, and forehead wrinkles that I’m no longer interested in housing.” She stretches out the words with that intricate accent only the upper crust can truly achieve.
Tilly scoots forward. “Iron me out, too, Doc. I’m a firm believer you can never start too early. I’ve still got me a man to snare.” She grazes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Are you up for a little snaring later on? I’ve got a meat hook in my bedroom that hasn’t been used since Christmas.”
He belts out an apprehensive laugh. “It would be an honor. But I’m afraid I’m already taken.”
Yeah. By two people. Or at least he was. According to Keira, he was two-timing Sophia with Madeline. And, according to Sophia, he may have bumped off Madeline for stealing some secret youth formula he was ready to unleash on the world.
He quickly assesses Opal and Tilly, and before either of them could flash another body part his way, he’s injecting them both with enough botulism to paralyze a herd of well-wrinkled elephants.
“How about you?” He winks my way. “I can squeeze one more in. Just hop into a paper gown and you’re good to go.”
I can’t help but make a face. I’m sure he’d love to take a look at my tatas. I’d call him out on his peeping Tom ways, but I figure I need to play nice until I squeeze a few answers from him.
“No thanks.” I force a smile to come and go. “I’ve got an ornery boyfriend back home, and I’d hate to spoil him.”
Opal gasps, her face unmoving as her eyes flit in my direction.
“Oh, Bowie, that’s fantastic!” she trills. “I had no idea things progressed for you and Jackson so quickly.”
“Jackson?” Tilly’s eyes dart my way, and I’m betting if she had control of her facial muscles she’d be scowling at me.
“Wait a minute.” Parker steps back and examines the roster in front of him. “Opal Mortimer. I thought your name sounded familiar. You must be Jackson’s mother.”
“Darn tootin’, hot stuff.” Opal gives her chest a shimmy. Her delivery was a little dry, no thanks to the fact she could hardly move her lips, but on the bright side, she could do stand-up as a ventriloquist.
Parker chuckles. “Well, consider this a freebie, girls.” He points my way. “I bet you’d like in on it now. Offer’s still good.”
Honestly, if a little bit of liquor cranked up the volume on my sibylline abilities, who knows what a little facial paralysis could do? And since I’d hate to malfunction so early on in my planetary stay, I kindly refuse the offer.
He touches his finger to his nose while staring intently at me. “I have a vague feeling we’ve met. Were you at Jackson’s masquerade ball?”
“I sure was. We met and spoke that night. But my face was sort of hidden, so I don’t blame you for not remembering,” I say as I head in his direction.
“Ah, yes, what’s a masquerade ball without a mask? Please excuse my inability to recall it.”
“Not a worry. It was a bit of a rough night.”
Both Opal and Tilly are lying back on their respective glorified lounge chairs while being tended to by a couple of young assistants, pressing warm towels over their faces.
I shrug up at him. “Any word on what happened to the poor girl?”
He glances back at Opal and Tilly from over his shoulder.
“Apparently, she was murdered,” he whispers. “Poison. I’m not sure with what. The sheriff’s department is pretty tight-lipped about this.” He presses his glowing brown eyes to mine. “Please, if you remember any details at all from that night, be sure to
