“Any messages?” I asked Feliz when I got back to Bloody Murder. I didn’t expect any--I’d been gone only an hour and a half. One of the nice things about being the boss was if I wanted to take a long lunch once in a while, I could. I made up for it by forgetting to eat anything besides my morning muffin some days.
“Miss Marie called,” Feliz said. I will never comprehend what caused some women to always be Miss in Southern lexicon. You had to be born here to know, I was sure. This was something that could not be learned, even by osmosis. Sometimes it was for an elderly widow, like Jimmy Carter’s mother, the late Miss Lillian, but not Marie’s mother, who was also a widow. She was never anything other than Mrs. St. Pierre and I’d known her since I was fifteen. It wasn’t racial. I had met woman of all colors with the honorific. I couldn’t figure it out at all.
Feliz continued. “She said something about not letting you go out to bars on your lunch break to follow men who weren’t there.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes were merry. Being only a few years older than I was didn’t stop Feliz from mothering me mercilessly. “You want to fill me in?”
Not really, no. I tried humor. “Would you believe David Copperfield came into the store, then vanished in a puff of smoke?”
“No.” She shook her head, causing a jangle of copper chandelier earrings.
“Would you believe Harry Houdini has been reincarnated?” The routine never worked for Maxwell Smart either, but I didn’t want her thinking I was taking McCoy’s disappearance as seriously as I was.
“No, I wouldn’t believe that either.” Perfect deadpan. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.
“How about a guy that fell in the door, passed out, and disappeared before I could find out who he was?”
“Santa Maria you’re serious!” She poured me a cup of coffee, nearly spilling it on her copper and gold patterned dress. The fabric flowed as she moved, as if there was a wind machine backstage.
I nodded and sipped. “Yes, it is a little weird,” I conceded. “Sunday night, a man stumbled in here, asked me to call him an ambulance and fell over. I tried to give him CPR, saw he was bleeding . . .”
“And you fainted.” She said matter-of-factly. A tarot card reader once told me it had to do with how I died in a past life. I didn’t cross her palm with any more silver. I was having enough trouble with this life; I didn’t need to know about any other ones. I wasn’t sure about reincarnation anyway. I’d been raised not to believe in it, but I’d been drifting away from the Catholic Church since mom died. Mom always believed God had a plan for mankind and that was enough for her. I preferred to be let in on such information. Call me a control freak.
“And I fainted.” I shrugged, and took some effort to look casual. “I thought I saw the guy at the bar last night. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if the bartender remembered him.”
Bless her heart, Feliz didn’t give me a hard time for asking questions, but got right to the good part. “So did you learn anything?”
“I like Australian white wine, at least the one I tried, I think the bartender is sleeping with the piano player, and I should eat before having wine in the middle of the day.” I gave her an exaggerated tipsy smile. “The bartender said he didn’t remember the guy. Marie didn’t see him, but she was distracted by someone handsome—no surprises there. I’m going to go upstairs and find something for lunch.” The wine was going to my head and I felt chilled.
“Zofia?” She moved her bulk from behind the coffee bar and came over to me. “Can I tell you something for your own good?”
“Could I stop you?” Feliz was normally easy-going, even jovial, but she could quickly shift to a scary level of intense. When she used my full name, she meant business. “Of course.”
“Take the rest of the day off and just get some rest. No more booze, no more cold medicine, and make a doctor’s appointment.”
What? First Jerry, then Marie, now my partner too? I took a deep breath. “Who have you been talking to, Jerry or Marie?” She didn’t answer. I guessed the former had called as well looking for me and put a bug in her ear. “I’ll work from upstairs and go to bed early, okay?” I schooled my face to patience, though I was feeling anything but. I was starting to feel like Lenny Briscoe had when a suspect denied confessing to him. Why did I suddenly have to prove what I’d seen with my own eyes?
Feliz pondered. I considered getting her a sweatshirt that said, “I fuss because I care,” for her birthday next month. “Okay. I can’t really stop you from working, can I? If James is working too hard, I can actually send him home.”
“I’m fine, Feliz. Maybe a little overtired.” I supposed I could concede that much. Arguing here would do me no good and might make me look as if I really were losing my mind. I speculated that if I didn’t appear too attached to my delusions, I could keep investigating on my own without interference from the nonbelievers.
“No maybe about it. You are not someone who goes around seeing things.” Well, thank you for that. “Now go take care of yourself. It’s obvious you aren’t over that flu. I can handle the store today, and tomorrow for that matter. I’ll even pick up croissants on the way in. Sleep in and get better.”
“Fine. Where are the packing slips from this morning?”
She handed them to me and I bid her a gentle goodnight, the time on the clock notwithstanding.