Rubout by Elaine Viets Page B

met Brenda and dumped Sydney.”
    “Why did he dump the perfect Ladue wife?”
    “Because she
was
the perfect Ladue wife. Hudson got tired of living with—and, let’s face it, maintaining—all that perfection. Sydney was expensive. Iheard he met Brenda at Tom Schlafly’s Saint Louis Brewery. You know it?”
    “Of course. They have wicked french fries and sticky toffee pudding. Lyle likes their porter.”
    “Hudson told me about the first time he had lunch with Brenda. It was strictly business. Nothing was going on then. Brenda ordered a beer, a cheeseburger, and french fries. Sydney would never do that. She starved herself. Always on a diet. If she did eat anything, she’d go on about how many fat grams she consumed until your eyes crossed. Well, after her cheeseburger and beer, Brenda said, ‘That was good. Think I’ll try the oatmeal stout.’ Hudson had never been around a woman who acted that way. He said that’s when he fell in love. I felt sorry for Sydney, but virtue is its own punishment. She spent her whole time talking about her kid, her worthy causes, and her diets. I can see why the poor guy dumped her. Plus, I heard Brenda was pretty good in the sack. Sydney looked like she’d clank if you got on top of her.” An attractive, skinny woman wouldn’t get much sympathy from Endora.
    “What would have happened to Sydney if they’d divorced?”
    “Hudson hired a real shark. If Sydney was lucky, she might have been able to get a house in Chevy Chase.”
    “Where’s that? Isn’t Chevy Chase a suburb of Washington, D.C.? I couldn’t imagine Sydney living anywhere but here.”
    Endora looked at me like I lived on another planet. I guess I did. “Chevy Chase is a subdivision in Olivette, right on the edge of Ladue. The southwestcomer of Price Road and Bonhomme. It’s where divorced Ladue wives go when they get a bad settlement. If you live in Chevy Chase, you are still in the Ladue school district, so your kids can go to Ladue schools. A lot of Catholics and Jews live there, too. It’s mostly brick-and-frame houses, built in the twenties. You’d probably like it, but it would be a comedown for Sydney.”
    I’d probably like it, because I was too dumb to know any better. After all, I grew up Catholic. Endora had no idea she’d just insulted two religions. Talking with Endora could set my South Side teeth on edge. She gave me the names of two of Sydney’s friends, but one lived in Chicago. She also gave me her son’s new address, although Endora didn’t know the phone number. Then her phone rang, and Endora had an excuse to dismiss me. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ve been expecting this call. Come back if you need anything.”
    It was only after I got back to my desk that I realized Endora really hadn’t told me much, except that Hudson had a lot of affairs and a lot of money. Both were ways of bragging. Endora really was one of them. If I was going to find out anything, I needed to talk to someone who knew Ladue but didn’t live there.
    Who did I know who would fit that description? I opened my brown leather Filofax and began paging through it. It wasn’t until I got to the Ps that I found the right person: Jinny Peterson. Jinny was an engaging redhead who lived in Kirkwood. If
Father Knows Best
was shot today, it would be set in Kirkwood, and Jinny’s white clapboard house with the blackshutters, red front door, and—I swear—white picket fence, would be perfect. Jinny might be just a little too sexy for the fatherly insurance agent, Jim Anderson, though. Besides, she had a sense of humor, and I didn’t see Jim living with any woman who might laugh at him. Jinny was on half a dozen boards, from KWMU, the public radio station, to a battered women’s shelter, and a children’s museum. She didn’t have major money. What Jinny contributed was time and hard labor. She would make zillions of calls, find volunteers, and volunteer herself.
    She also loved to swap information. It was