your seat, Cece.”
“They must’ve shifted when we were driving.”
“They were the other way around when we went
across the street.”
“Have they been opened? Check them. Is anything
missing?”
She opened the car door and climbed in. “Well, they
seem to be locked up, like I left them. And the keys are right here, in my purse.” She shrugged. “I’m so spacey.”
But Bridget was not spacey. And Lael was not a
lamebrain.
And it hadn’t been a dream.
We drove off.
“Everything’s fine now,” Lael said.
Just fine.
60
S U S A N
K A N D E L
*
*
*
THE SUN WAS HIGH overhead by the time we saw the first billboard for Hadley Fruit Orchards.
“Do you think hydrogen-powered cars will ever be a
reality?” Lael’s eyes were closed. She had exhausted
herself searching for a chimerical all-Beatles radio
station.
“It’s the only thing that will save California,” Bridget answered. “What are your thoughts on Indian gaming?”
“How can you think about such things at a time like
this?” I asked. “Didn’t you see the sign? We’re almost at Hadley’s!”
“I think we should keep going,” Lael said.
The air was hot and dry. How could birds fly through
such hot dry air? I looked around. Didn’t see any birds.
Not many plants either. Just some extraterrestrial-
looking Joshua trees poking out of the parched red
dirt.
“Hadley’s has been an oasis in the high desert since
1931,” I said, slowing down to read the next sign.
“I said I think we should keep going.”
“You’re going to pass on sage honey? Mango-
flavored pineapple cones? Apricot-stuffed Medjool
dates? Ostrich jerky?”
“I want to take a dip in the pool at Edgar’s,” she said.
“Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Bridget piped up. “Perfect.”
“I’m thirsty,” I said as we drove past Hadley’s. I
knew what Lael was doing. She was worried about me.
She did not approve of my stunts. She feared for my
mental health. And she wanted to get me settled in so I N O T
A
G I R L
D E T E C T I V E
61
could rest up before my speech tomorrow. How little
faith she had in me.
“You can have a drink when we arrive,” she said.
“And a nice hot bubble bath after the pool.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said stubbornly,
pulling off the road and into the Wheel Inn.
Lael sighed. “Just make it quick.”
The Wheel Inn in Cabazon was famous for its four-
story-tall dinosaurs. Back in the sixties, somebody had planned an entire dinosaur-themed amusement park
there, but had never gotten any further than a bron-
tosaurus and a T. rex.
“Looks like there’s a gift shop inside the T. rex,” said Bridget excitedly. Away from her usual designer bou-tiques for two hours and she’d lost all perspective.
“We’ll get the sodas,” Lael said, pushing Bridget in-
side behind me.
Five minutes later, we walked back out to the car. I
pressed the icy can of Diet Coke against my cheek.
Bridget kicked some gravel in the parking lot. “I
want one of those pith helmets with a fan attached.”
“Edgar must have air-conditioning.”
“Are you sure it’s fine that we all stay there?”
“He insisted,” I said. “I have no idea why, but he insisted.”
“Andrew loathes air-conditioning. He doesn’t mind
sweat.”
“Yuck,” I said.
“Who’s Andrew?” Lael asked.
“Bridget’s new intern,” I said with a snort.
“Are you jealous?” Bridget asked.
“A little,” I confessed. “You seem so happy.”
62
S U S A N
K A N D E L
“I am. He’s just so . . . worshipful. And all that luscious hair.”
“Cece,” asked Lael, ever alert, “why should you be
jealous? You’ve got Gambino.”
“Why do we always have to talk about men?” I
snapped. “Can we please not talk about men for two
seconds?”
“Good idea,” said Bridget, stopping dead in front of
Maynard’s Caddy. “I think we’ve got more pressing
concerns.”
7
At any hour, in any time zone, by any
“They must’ve shifted when we were driving.”
“They were the other way around when we went
across the street.”
“Have they been opened? Check them. Is anything
missing?”
She opened the car door and climbed in. “Well, they
seem to be locked up, like I left them. And the keys are right here, in my purse.” She shrugged. “I’m so spacey.”
But Bridget was not spacey. And Lael was not a
lamebrain.
And it hadn’t been a dream.
We drove off.
“Everything’s fine now,” Lael said.
Just fine.
60
S U S A N
K A N D E L
*
*
*
THE SUN WAS HIGH overhead by the time we saw the first billboard for Hadley Fruit Orchards.
“Do you think hydrogen-powered cars will ever be a
reality?” Lael’s eyes were closed. She had exhausted
herself searching for a chimerical all-Beatles radio
station.
“It’s the only thing that will save California,” Bridget answered. “What are your thoughts on Indian gaming?”
“How can you think about such things at a time like
this?” I asked. “Didn’t you see the sign? We’re almost at Hadley’s!”
“I think we should keep going,” Lael said.
The air was hot and dry. How could birds fly through
such hot dry air? I looked around. Didn’t see any birds.
Not many plants either. Just some extraterrestrial-
looking Joshua trees poking out of the parched red
dirt.
“Hadley’s has been an oasis in the high desert since
1931,” I said, slowing down to read the next sign.
“I said I think we should keep going.”
“You’re going to pass on sage honey? Mango-
flavored pineapple cones? Apricot-stuffed Medjool
dates? Ostrich jerky?”
“I want to take a dip in the pool at Edgar’s,” she said.
“Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Bridget piped up. “Perfect.”
“I’m thirsty,” I said as we drove past Hadley’s. I
knew what Lael was doing. She was worried about me.
She did not approve of my stunts. She feared for my
mental health. And she wanted to get me settled in so I N O T
A
G I R L
D E T E C T I V E
61
could rest up before my speech tomorrow. How little
faith she had in me.
“You can have a drink when we arrive,” she said.
“And a nice hot bubble bath after the pool.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said stubbornly,
pulling off the road and into the Wheel Inn.
Lael sighed. “Just make it quick.”
The Wheel Inn in Cabazon was famous for its four-
story-tall dinosaurs. Back in the sixties, somebody had planned an entire dinosaur-themed amusement park
there, but had never gotten any further than a bron-
tosaurus and a T. rex.
“Looks like there’s a gift shop inside the T. rex,” said Bridget excitedly. Away from her usual designer bou-tiques for two hours and she’d lost all perspective.
“We’ll get the sodas,” Lael said, pushing Bridget in-
side behind me.
Five minutes later, we walked back out to the car. I
pressed the icy can of Diet Coke against my cheek.
Bridget kicked some gravel in the parking lot. “I
want one of those pith helmets with a fan attached.”
“Edgar must have air-conditioning.”
“Are you sure it’s fine that we all stay there?”
“He insisted,” I said. “I have no idea why, but he insisted.”
“Andrew loathes air-conditioning. He doesn’t mind
sweat.”
“Yuck,” I said.
“Who’s Andrew?” Lael asked.
“Bridget’s new intern,” I said with a snort.
“Are you jealous?” Bridget asked.
“A little,” I confessed. “You seem so happy.”
62
S U S A N
K A N D E L
“I am. He’s just so . . . worshipful. And all that luscious hair.”
“Cece,” asked Lael, ever alert, “why should you be
jealous? You’ve got Gambino.”
“Why do we always have to talk about men?” I
snapped. “Can we please not talk about men for two
seconds?”
“Good idea,” said Bridget, stopping dead in front of
Maynard’s Caddy. “I think we’ve got more pressing
concerns.”
7
At any hour, in any time zone, by any
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