Chapter Sixteen

“Hang on a sec,” Josie whispered to me. She pulled me aside as Amos asked Connor how plans were going for repairs to the pilings under the pier and Jake told Steph he was considering enlarging the restaurant’s deck. Last summer they’d been full most weekend evenings, meaning customers had been turned away.

“What is it?” I asked my cousin.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake, but that ex-girlfriend of his was hanging around the bakery today.”

“What do you mean, hanging around? You’re closed.”

“Precisely. We might be closed, but I have invoices to send out and bills to pay.” She sighed. “I still have expenses, rent and such, although at the moment, no income. But that’s beside the point. Detective Yarmouth said I can work in the office but not do any baking, so I spent some time in there today. My car was parked outside. Anyone could have known I was there. It wasn’t long after you and I talked on the phone. When I finished what I had to do and came outside, there she was. She was standing on the sidewalk on the other side of the parking lot, holding a shopping bag from the accessories store a couple of doors down from me.”

“Maybe she was genuinely shopping.”

“I might have thought that except for the way she stared at me. She didn’t move, she didn’t say anything. She just stared. It creeped me out, badly.”

“What did you do?”

“I decided to confront her.”

“That wasn’t wise.”

“Doesn’t matter. Soon as I took a step toward her, she gave me one last look and jumped into her car and drove away.”

“You’re not going to tell Jake?”

“The last thing I need is him deciding he has to have it out with her and the police being called. Nothing happened. I needed to tell someone, that’s all.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Toni Ambrose.”

“Jake said she found a job in town. Do you know where?”

“At the Blue Lagoon, waitressing. He told me so I’d be sure to stay far away. Why do you—” Josie was cut off when Jake said, “Ready, babe?”

“Coming.” She wrapped me in a tight hug, and then we went out into the night. The winter storm had arrived and an icy cold wind hit us full in our faces. A perfect match to our moods.

*   *   *

Bertie had called an emergency meeting of the board of the Bodie Island Lighthouse Library for Tuesday at noon to discuss work needed on the lighthouse building. As the board was going to meet in the staff break room at the library, Bertie had been unsure if it could go ahead. Sam Watson called her Monday evening and said the library could open the following morning. Bertie let us know, and then she contacted the members of the board to tell them the meeting would proceed as scheduled.

At eleven o’clock Tuesday morning, she said she’d watch the desk for me while I went into town to pick up food for the meeting.

“Is everyone coming?” I asked.

“Yes. I had to offer lunch to get those who have jobs to agree to attend.”

“You mean Curtis wouldn’t come if there wasn’t free food on offer.”

The twinkle in her eyes took some of the heaviness out of her face. “That might be the case.”

Bertie looked, to put it mildly, dreadful. I wondered if she’d slept much the last few nights. The bad news about potentially expensive building repairs followed by the murder placed a great deal of worry on her shoulders. Thick circles lay under her eyes and her color wasn’t good. “It’ll all be okay,” I said.

She smiled at me. “I’m sure it will. Somehow, at the Lighthouse Library, things always work out.”

“Did you tell them what the meeting’s about?”

“I had to give a few brief details.”

“Why do you even want Curtis here? You know he and Diane are no friends of the library. They won’t agree to spend the money.”

“We can’t make a decision of this magnitude without the input of all the members. If we did, Curtis would have grounds to lay a complaint. Even to go ahead and release money from our contingency fund requires a vote by the full board. I didn’t sleep much last night, thinking it over. I’ve decided to lay it all out before the board and suggest we have to plan for the worst-case scenario. George will be here tomorrow to make a more detailed inspection of the work. And then we’ll know. No point in worrying about it until then, but we can be prepared. Is Josie and Jake’s wedding still on? I hope so. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yes, it is, as planned. I can only hope the cloud of suspicion’s no longer hanging over Josie’s head by then.”

“They don’t seriously think Josie killed her cousin? The very idea is preposterous.”

“I don’t know, Bertie. I really don’t know.”

Bertie handed me the library credit card and I headed out. I went the long way to the sandwich shop, not wanting to see Josie’s place closed and police cars parked outside.

Back at the library, Bertie was helping a young man at one of the public computers, so I took the sandwiches and cookies to the break room, where the meeting would be held. I found Charlene arranging napkins, glasses, and printouts of the library budget by each place.

“Important meeting,” I said.

Charlene let out a long breath. “Oh yeah.” She held up her right hand, showing me crossed fingers.

We went into the main room in time to greet the first of the board members. No one was smiling. Mrs. Fitzgerald, chair of the board, kissed Bertie lightly on the cheek and mumbled, “Try not to worry, dear.”

“So this is the problem, is it?” Curtis bent to examine the crack in the wall. The rest of the board gathered around, peering over his shoulder. Curtis mumbled something about structural integrity and dangerous tilting. Everyone stood back to check if the wall was visibly sloping to one side. It wasn’t, at least not to the unaided eye, but Diane cocked her head and said, “Looks awful bad.” As one, most of the board leaned to the left.

Mrs. Fitzgerald did not. Instead she asked, “Where did you get your engineering degree, Mr. Gardner?”

“Don’t have a degree ma’am,” Curtis said. “Don’t need one. I’ve been around building sites all my life. It’s in the blood, you might say. My father built our house with his bare hands.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that. Fell down in a light breeze, as I recall. Of course, it wasn’t too serious, was it? Not quite a home for people to live in, more a garden shed. Come along everyone, let’s not keep Bertie waiting.” She walked away, leaving Curtis glaring at her back and a couple of the older board members chuckling.

Diane patted Curtis’s arm. “Anyone can see this entire wall is about to fall down on itself.” She turned to Charlene and me, malice shining happily in her eyes. “I wonder you two girls aren’t scared to death to be in this building all day. I know I would be. One more strong wind like we had the other night …” Her voice trailed away, and she and Curtis trotted after the others.

Charles followed, but he was soon back, having been evicted from the meeting.

Charlene went upstairs and the man working at the computer called me over. I showed him how to print out the job application he was looking at and he thanked me profusely. He was dreadfully shy but polite and presentable, and I hoped he’d get the job.

I kept one ear open, trying to get wind of what was happening in the break room, but they seemed to be keeping their voices down. No one was shouting, at least not yet.

Louise Jane McKaughnan came in as I was checking out a stack of historical mysteries. Once the patron had gathered up her books and left, Louise Jane leaned closer to me and whispered, “What’s this about the library having to close?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“It’s what the rumor mill’s saying. The building foundations are crumbling and the whole thing’s in danger of falling on your heads. Is it true?”

“Some work’s required, but it can be fixed.”

She let out a puff of breath. “That’s good, then. I was worried there for a while.”

“Were you?” I said.

She eyed me. “This library, this lighthouse, is awful important to me, Lucy. You, being an outsider, might not understand the strength of attachment we locals have to …”

“I understand, Louise Jane.”

“Where’s the damage?”

I pointed. “That crack in the wall.”

She wandered over to have a look and was soon back. “Heavens, Lucy. I’ve seen bigger cracks in half the old houses on the Outer Banks. Joan McKnight once lost a pair of boots in her walls. The ground is soft around here, and it settles. Some people are getting excited over nothing. Gives them something to fuss over. Makes them feel important.”

At that moment, the board members—including some people—begin filing through the main room, heading for the front door. They did not look happy and several didn’t even bother to say goodbye, shaking their heads and muttering darkly. Diane Uppiton and Curtis Gardner pretended to be dismayed. Mrs. Fitzgerald, board chair, came last, walking with Bertie. “I wish I could tell you, dear, that George was being pessimistic, but I’ve known him for many years, man and boy, and his father before him, and they’ve always said exactly what they mean. Nothing more and nothing less.”

She left.

Ronald and Charlene came down the stairs so soon, they must have been listening from the landing. We, including Louise Jane, who always seems to appear when important library matters are being discussed, gathered in a circle around Bertie, and she kept her voice low. “The board’s approved an expenditure of up to five thousand dollars for evaluation of the work and minor repairs if necessary. If it comes to more than that, which it almost certainly will, we’ll go to the town for funding. I called George and he said he can have his crew here tomorrow first thing to do the initial inspection and prepare our estimate.”

I glanced at Louise Jane. A narrow line had formed above her eyebrows. Even she wasn’t as optimistic as she was trying to pretend.

“Do you think the town will give us what we need?” Charlene asked.

“They’d be fools not to,” Ronald said. “This library is vitally important to the entire area.”

“Not to mention the wealth of history contained within the walls,” Louise Jane added.

“I agree,” Bertie said, “but times are tight and budgets are too. There are those on the board of commissioners who think the lighthouse could be better used as a revenue-generating attraction.” From his vantage point on the shelf above my left shoulder, Charles hissed.

“Louise Jane, I trust you’ll keep this conversation to yourself,” Bertie said.

“Goes without saying. No one in this room cares about this building more than me.”

We were standing on the far side of the room from the alcove. But somehow, none of us could stop continually glancing in that direction. Had that crack widened since I’d last looked at it? Was it growing before my eyes, like some sort of demented sea monster?

“Perhaps,” Charlene said, “Lucy could use the … uh, personal approach on the mayor.”

“Absolutely not,” Bertie said. “It might be necessary for Connor to recluse himself from the vote. Which would be highly unfortunate, as he’s always been a strong supporter of the library.”

“That’s one of the reasons he was reelected with such a landslide,” Ronald said.

“There cannot be even the whisper of a suggestion,” Bertie said, “that he wants to use town funds to save his girlfriend’s job.”

And didn’t that make me feel absolutely awful.

*   *   *

“Ronald,” I said, once Louise Jane had left and Bertie and Charlene had returned to their offices. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Nice tie, by the way. Is it new?” The object in question featured Sherlock Holmes: silhouette of a hawk-nosed man with a pipe clenched in his teeth, deerstalker hat perched on his head.

“A gift from one of my sisters, who’s a devotee of the Great Detective. She bought it at a quirky little store on Cape Cod dedicated to all things Holmes.”

“I haven’t seen Norm Kivas here in a while,” I said. “Has he been around?” Norm was the man Josie’d had to fire over the summer for showing up to work late and/or drunk one time too many.

Ronald ran his hand through his mane of curly gray hair. “His grandchildren are Jasmine and Savannah. Super kids. Their mom usually brings them to Friday story time. I haven’t seen Norm in a while. The mom’s work schedule changed, so she’s free on Fridays to take care of the kids, and she doesn’t need Norm to help with that anymore.”

“Did she say anything about how he’s doing?”

Ronald studied my face. “Shall I assume this has nothing to do with you being a gossip?”

“You can. Norm was angry at Josie over the summer. Norm was angry at the world, but he eventually came to realize that his daughter and his grandchildren needed him, so he made an effort to sober up. I’m hoping he didn’t fall off the wagon and decide Josie was the cause of all his problems.”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Ronald said. “I’ll give his daughter a call today. I can say I’m checking with the parents as to a possible change to the Friday program, and then try to ever so subtly check up on Norm.”

“Thanks, Ronald.” As a children’s librarian, Ronald is party to a heck of a lot of family secrets. He knows how to be subtle and discreet.

*   *   *

Speaking of subtle and discreet, the next people to visit the library were anything but.

I was standing at the mystery shelves, helping Glenda Covington, a regular patron, locate the latest in Daryl Wood Gerber’s French bistro mysteries, when the door opened. “It should be right here.” I ran my index finger down the line of books. “It’s not been checked out.”

“Things get misplaced,” Glenda said. “If we can’t find it today, can I put a hold on it?”

“Of course.”

A head popped around the shelf. “Hi. Got a minute?” Judy Jensen, the reporter.

“I do,” I said. “If you’re looking for a book or wanting to consult with a librarian.”

“Just a minute of your time,” she said.

Charles leapt onto the shelf behind me. He hissed at the newcomer. Judy forced out a smile. “What a lovely cat.”

Charles hissed again.

“Small, but mighty,” I said.

“And totally adorable,” Glenda said. She stroked the long, thick fur. “Go ahead and help this lady, Lucy. I’ll keep searching.”

I followed Judy out from between the shelves to find the man who called himself @roguejourno222 examining the papers on top of the circulation desk. “What do you want?”

He grinned at me. “A moment of your time.”

I turned to Judy. “I’d like you both to leave, please.”

“Come on,” she said. “A murder was committed here a couple of days ago. The police are investigating. The public has the right to know …”

“A woman fell ill here and the public has the right to respect her privacy. The police have not concluded foul play was involved.”

“Something she ate, I heard,” @roguejourno222 said.

“That has not been determined. I have nothing to say. If you’re not here for a book, I’m asking you to leave. Do you have a name, by the way?”

“Calhoon. Roger Calhoon. At your service.”

“I am not at yours.”

He grinned at me, no offence taken. His face was craggy, his eyebrows bushy, his stomach pronounced, his hair badly cut. He wore jeans that were torn and worn, not because that was the fashion, and a shirt with a permanent stain over the pocket.

“Roger,” I said. “Roguejourno222.”

He spread his arms and flashed me another grin. “My fame spreads.”

“Not favorably. I saw what you put on Twitter.” I’d checked his page again this morning. He’d said nothing new, because there was nothing new to say, but he’d put up more pictures of Josie’s bakery, police coming and going, the bakery sign prominent in the background. One picture had shown my cousin making a dash for her car. Fortunately, anyone who didn’t know Josie well wouldn’t have recognized her. She wore a winter coat with the hood pulled down to her eyes and a scarf wrapped up to her chin. Good thing this had happened in the winter. It’s hard to make yourself anonymous when everyone is in sundresses and tank tops.

Judy didn’t look entirely comfortable at the exchange between Roger and me. “You’re a local,” I said to her. “You know if you want a statement from the library, you need to talk to Bertie James. Not to me.”

“We’re not here for a formal statement,” she said, “just checking things out, maybe have an off-the-record chat. Roger wanted to have a look around.”

“I won’t be having any chat, off the record or otherwise. If you want to look, the view from the top of the lighthouse tower is magnificent. I can open the gate if you want me to and let you climb up. Two hundred and seventeen steps. The last two hundred and ten are the hardest.”

“Sounds like too much exercise for me.” Roger patted his round belly. “Sorry, I didn’t get your full name. Lucy?”

I tightened my lips and said nothing.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, you don’t want to be mentioned. I get that. Were you here for the fatal bridal shower?”

“No.” I lied without the slightest twinge of guilt.

His face fell. “That’s too bad. Anyone around who can tell us what happened that day?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I poke around myself for a couple minutes? Check things out. I won’t touch anything. Not much, anyway.”

“No.”

“This was a mistake,” Judy said. “Let’s go, Roger.”

“Give me a break here,” he said. “I can do us both a favor. You tell me what happened at this fatal shower, and I can put your library in a good light. I hear you’re in need of funds. Something about the building falling down.”

I fought to control my temper. “That sounds like blackmail to me.”

“Does it? I didn’t mean it that way.” He gave me a slow, insolent wink. “We can help each other out, is all I’m saying. It would be a shame if this nice place had to close down because visitors were afraid of coming.”

“Careful, Roger,” Judy said.

“Found it!” Glenda emerged from the shelves. She held the desired book in her left hand and had Charles tucked into the crook of her right arm. “Or rather, Charles found it. It was under the shelf. Must have fallen to the floor and gotten kicked under. Aren’t you the clever cat?”

For once, Charles didn’t bask in the praise. Instead, he took one look at our visitors and launched himself out of Glenda’s arms. He flew through the air, a ball of tan-and-white fur, teeth bared and claws flashing.

Judy yelped. Glenda gasped. Charles landed square in the center of @roguejourno222’s ample stomach and clung on.

Roger screamed and flailed at the cat, trying to swat him away. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

Before I could move, Charles let go, performed a backflip, twisted himself in midair, flew forward, landed nimbly on the returns cart, and whirled around. He spat once, in Roger’s direction, jumped off the cart, and stalked away, tail high, hips swinging.

Roger’s mouth hung open. Judy’s yell turned into a bark of laughter. “Wow! He sure showed you what he thought of you.”

I said nothing. I could think of nothing to say. I could only hope Roger wouldn’t sue the library for keeping a vicious animal on the premises.

“No harm done,” Glenda said. “Can I check out my book now?”

“One minute of your time, please.” Roger tried to sound as though he hadn’t been frightened almost half to death only moments before. “Were you here on Sunday, when a woman took sick and died?”

“Me? Never been in this place before. A woman died? How sad.” Glenda turned away from him and put her book on the desk. She gave me a wink, and I gave her a smile of thanks. Glenda is a member of the Friends of the Library group and comes to the library several times a week to take out the latest cozy mysteries. She is a good friend of Ellen’s and had been at the shower. Her gift to Josie had been a certificate for a massage therapist.

When the door shut behind Glenda, I turned to Roger and Judy. “If there’s nothing else I can help you with …”

“Okay,” he said. “Keep your secrets. For now. Let’s go, Judy. There’s nothing to see here. As for you”—he pointed his finger at me—“you’d better keep that cat under control. If he scratched me, I’d sue you for all you’re worth.” He walked out.

Judy started to follow, and then she hesitated and turned back to me. “I’m sorry. Roger’s my cousin. He’s always drifted from one gig to another, and last month he got fired from his job at a newspaper in the Midwest. He doesn’t have much hope of finding another, so he came here, hoping I could put something his way. When he heard what happened here at the library, he jumped all over it. He asked me if I’d help him poke around; maybe we could dig up something to report on that would help him get a new job. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I thought he was a crime reporter, not a sleazy gossip columnist.”

“Can you keep him away from Josie? She did nothing wrong, and she and her bakery don’t deserve any bad press. Even if it’s only on Twitter.”

“I’ll try. But Roger can be mighty stubborn when he gets an idea in his head.” She grinned. “Nice job with the cat.”

*   *   *

“How about a girls’ night out?” I said to Grace.

“I’m hardly in the mood, Lucy, and I can’t see Josie being so either. I drove past the bakery earlier, and it’s still closed, with a police car parked outside. They might as well fly a skull and crossbones from the roof, warning people away.”

“I’m not planning to invite Josie,” I said. “And I’m not exactly in the mood to kick up my heels either, but I do have an ulterior motive and I need backup.”

“In that case, you can count on me.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight. Dress appropriately.” I put down the phone.

Next, I called Stephanie and asked her the same. I got the same response. When I explained what I wanted, she said, “I’m in. I went to that chain coffee shop down the road on my way back from court this morning to grab something for breakfast, and what’s happening at Josie’s was all anyone’s talking about.”

“What are they saying?”

“The consensus seems to be that Josie’s been unfairly targeted because someone got sick and died after an event she catered. My mom tells me she’s hearing lots of grumbling about overzealous police and health inspectors with nothing better to do.”

“No one’s saying she did it deliberately?”

“Not that I heard or that Mom told me, and she would have. No one who knows Josie thinks she’s an idiot. If she wanted to kill someone, she’d scarcely point a big red arrow at herself, now, would she?”

I’d considered that myself, and that was part of the reason I was sorry Sam Watson wasn’t leading the investigation. He knew Josie, and like Steph said, he’d know she was not that stupid. “I’ll pick you up at ten after eight.”

“I suppose I can get off work early for a good cause.”

I shuddered to think of someone who was at court before breakfast and thought leaving work at eight was early.

*   *   *

I studied the contents of my closet. It was January, so I didn’t want to wear anything too skimpy. Not that I owned anything skimpy in any event. Charles sat on the bed, washing his face and watching me.

“How’s this?” I held up a plain black dress.

He licked his paw.

“Too librarian, is it?” I put the dress back and chose another. He yawned.

“You’re right. Boring. Oh, for heaven’s sake, what am I thinking? It doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

I dressed in jeans, a white shirt, and a red faux-leather jacket, and tied a red scarf around my neck. I studied myself in the mirror. I would do. Charles jumped off the bed and went to inspect his food bowl.

I told him to guard the lighthouse and left. I picked Grace up first and then Stephanie. They’d dressed for a girls’ night on the town, and they both looked as though, like me, they weren’t quite sure what that meant.

“Those are some killer heels,” Grace said when Steph got into the car.

“You think so? They’re what I wore to court this morning, and I didn’t bother to change because they match this dress.”

The black dress was low cut and close fitting, and the red patent leather pumps had sky-high heels. Steph stood at five foot two in her bare feet. She needed to work at looking intimating when she faced opposing attorneys or hostile witnesses in court.

I backed out of her driveway as she said, “Okay. We’re here as ordered. Ready for a fun-filled night on the town. What’s up?”

“We’re going to the Blue Lagoon. It’s a bar near the pier.”

“I’ve seen it,” Steph said. “It’s supposed to be a popular pickup spot. I hope this isn’t your way of telling us things aren’t going well with Connor.”

“Ha ha,” I said.

“We’ll be the oldest people there,” Grace said.

“We’re three friends enjoying a night out, because one of them—that’ll be you, Grace—has been dumped by your cheating boyfriend.”

“That’s a part I don’t have go to a lot of trouble to act.”

“But you’ve forgiven him, and you want him back.”

“As if.”

“Jake’s ex-girlfriend followed him from New York. She’s been hanging around, trying to get him to come back to her. She was at the bakery yesterday, watching Josie. Nothing happened, and she drove away when Josie spotted her, but it rattled Josie.”

“I’m sure it did,” Steph said.

“That’s not good,” Grace said. “Some women don’t know when to give up. Some men, too.”

“You’re thinking this woman might have murdered Mirabelle?” Steph asked.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Blue Lagoon. Colored lights shone in the windows and spilled out the doors. They hadn’t taken down their Christmas decorations yet, and they looked limp and tacky. On a Tuesday night in January, the place wasn’t busy. I’d been counting on it being a quiet evening.

“Perhaps not with the intention of killing anyone,” I said, “but to damage Josie’s reputation.”

“Makes sense,” Steph said.

“It does?” Grace said.

“Not to me, or to you, but to some people, yeah. What’s this woman’s name?”

“Toni,” I said. “With an i.”

“Let me at ’er,” Grace said.

“How do you know she’s working tonight?” Steph asked.

“I don’t. I could hardly phone and ask, could I? If she isn’t here, we’ll have to come back another night.”

The Blue Lagoon tried hard to look modern and hip. Glass, chrome, concrete, exposed ceiling pipes. A soft blue glow hung over everything, which clashed badly with the leftover Christmas decorations. A man stood behind the long bar, wiping glasses, looking totally bored. The mirror on the wall reflected rows and rows of colorful glass bottles and the bartender’s heavy man-bun. A few tables were taken by mixed groups or couples. Most of the people, both patrons and staff, were in their early to mid-twenties, younger than us. The dance floor was small, very small, and currently empty. A sign on the door advertised the forthcoming weekend’s live music, but tonight’s recorded dance music played too loudly through the speakers.

A woman in a short black skirt and tight T-shirt with blue trim smiled at us. “Hi. Welcome to the Blue Lagoon.” Her accent was pure New York City. I recognized the spiked black hair and multi-pierced ears from the photo Jake had shown me.

“Thanks,” I said.

Grace was wearing flats, but she’d wobbled slightly as we crossed the threshold, and Steph had taken her arm. “Steady there.” Steph grinned sheepishly at the waitress. “Our friend’s had a bad breakup.”

Adele was spreading rumors from the sound system. “Love that song.” Grace swayed to the music. “She really knew how to get back at him. Maybe I should do that to Eric.”

The waitress grinned. She was pretty enough but not exceptionally so. Something about the twist to her mouth and the heaviness in her eyes ruined, I thought, her looks. Then again, maybe I was only seeing what I wanted to see. She wore too much makeup, and paler roots showed at the base of her spiked midnight-black hair. In case there was any doubt this was our quarry, her name tag said TONI.

“Where would you like to sit?” she asked.

“Near the bar would be fine.” I thought Toni would be more likely to chat with us if she didn’t have to walk across the room. She led us to a table for four, and we sat down. My friends took the seats on either side of me.

Toni placed menus on the table. “Nothing to eat, thanks,” I said. “We had dinner earlier.”

“It was yum … yummy.” Grace slurred her words.

Toni shrugged and collected the menus. “What can I get you to drink, then?”

We each ordered a glass of wine. I had a bottle of water concealed in the depths of my purse to top up the drinks in case we had to look as though we were drinking more than we wanted to.

“You’ve had a lot tonight, hon,” Steph said to Grace. “You should probably have a small glass.”

“Don’t want the small one,” Grace said. “I’m going to drink that man right out of my hair. I’ll have a large, please.”

Steph shrugged.

Toni left to get our drinks. I leaned over the table. “Don’t lay it on too thick.”

“That’s not too thick,” Grace said. “You should have seen my cousin Janice when her boyfriend dumped her.”

“You should see some of the things I see in court,” Steph added.

Toni came back with three glasses balanced on a tray. She handed the drinks around. Silver rings were on most of her fingers, and I particularly noticed a large one made up of several intertwining triangles on the thumb of her right hand.

We sipped our wine and tried to chat, although conversation was difficult without mentioning Josie and what was foremost on all our minds.

“When you see her heading our way,” I whispered to Grace when my glass was almost empty, “go to the restroom.”

“Got it. Looks like that’s now.” Grace stood up, fell against Steph, hiccupped, and staggered away.

“Get you another?” Toni asked.

“Not for me,” I said. “I’m driving. You have one if you want.”

“Sure,” Steph said.

“Don’t ask our friend if she wants another, okay?” I said. “She’s in a bad way, and I’m getting worried.”

“She doesn’t look drunk enough for us to cut her off,” Toni said. “Long as she’s not driving. I don’t want any trouble if she asks for one.”

“I’m worried if she has too much to drink, she’s going to go around to Eric’s place and try to get him to come back to her.” I shook my head sadly. “Which would be the worst possible thing she could do, showing up drunk like that and making a scene.”

“Yeah,” Steph said. “Particularly if that new girlfriend of his is there.”

I smiled at Toni. I waited. It didn’t seem as though she was going to take the bait. The table of six in the far corner got up and left. Toni glanced around the nearly empty room. “We’ve all been there,” she said.

“Some worse than others,” Steph said.

“It’s bad enough when you break up,” I said, “’cause things aren’t working out between you, but when another woman steals him from you, that’s not right.”

“You can say that again,” Toni said. “Some women get downright desperate once they hit thirty.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I was thirty-two. I didn’t think I was that old.

“Your friend’s taking a long time,” Toni said. “Maybe you should go and see if she’s all right.”

“She’s fine,” Steph said.

“If you say so,” Toni said.

“Are you from New York?” I asked.

“Yeah, Brooklyn.”

“You have the accent,” I said. “Been here long?”

“About a month.”

“Do you like it?”

“Not particularly. They say it gets busier in the summer, but right now things are mighty slow.” She gestured to the nearly empty bar. “Hard to live on the tips I’m getting.”

“What brings you down here?” Steph asked.

“A man. What else.” She walked away.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Steph said. “We can hardly ask the name of this man and if she wants to see his girlfriend in jail.”

“I have to agree. Dumb plan anyway. Like she was going to confess to us that she’ll go to extremes to get Jake back.”

Grace returned to the table, wobbling slightly. Her face was wet and she wiped her mouth. She was a better actor than I’d expected. She dropped into her chair with a grunt.

“I’ve asked for another drink,” Steph said. “Might as well join me if you want and then we can leave.”

Toni brought Steph’s wine and a glass of water for me. She put the drinks down and then glanced behind her. No one was paying us any attention. She kept her voice low. “My boyfriend and I had something good, but he was tired of New York and wanted to come here, to his hometown. When he told me he was leaving, I said I’d come too, but he said we were finished. I figured he’d be back soon enough, and I waited. I waited long enough, and when I didn’t hear from him, I came down to see what’s what.” She shook her head. “I could tell he was happy to see me, but he said he wasn’t. He said I had to go back to New York, that we were finished and he’d moved on. Then he told me he’d gone and gotten himself engaged.”

“No!” Steph said. “What a rat.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked.

“I quit my job in Brooklyn, so I figure I’ll hang around here and pretty soon he’ll get tired of her and remember that I’m the one for him. Me. Not her. He needs the right moment, that’s all.”

“Has that moment happened yet?” Steph asked.

“It will. Soon.” Toni leaned over the table and spoke to Grace in a low, serious voice. “You sober yourself up, girl, and get yourself strong. Men can be downright stupid sometimes. You need to remind him you’re the one for him.”

Grace blinked.

“Get his new girl into a mess of trouble, and you’ll see how fast he comes back to you. Now, get you another drink?”

“Oh yeah,” Grace said.