As I shampooed and conditioned my hair, I pictured Jarret, sloppy drunk at the pool bar. The guy never could bear to be alone, especially in a crisis. Now, thanks to a rash comment, Jarret had made his latest problem mine. I toweled off, then slipped into black yoga pants and a light gray zip-up sweatshirt.
Earl caught me at the door and we walked outside together. He scanned the parking lot then leaned in, conspiratorial. “I didn’t want to tell you this in front of anyone inside. A woman detective called me yesterday afternoon. She asked me a lot of questions about what time you left here Wednesday.”
“I apologize for involving you.” I clenched the strap of my backpack. “You and Tess are the two people I know by name who saw me here Wednesday morning, and I don’t know Tess’s last name. Again, I’m sorry. What did you tell the detective?”
“The truth. That I saw you leave when my eight o’clock client came in.” Earl squinted at me. “Are you mixed up in Laycee Huber’s murder?”
“Mixed up?”
“You know, a suspect?”
I shook my head emphatically. “I’m not. Detective Pratt questioned me because they found Laycee’s body in my ex-husband’s house. I’d be the biggest serial killer in history if I attacked every woman who slept in his bed since I moved out. Did the detective ask you anything else?”
“Only how well I knew Laycee. I said I only saw her those two times she came here with Kyle.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. First on Tuesday morning, and then she and Kyle came here that afternoon for a few minutes. I didn’t talk to her either time. That’s what I told the detective.”
“Thanks for telling me in private, Earl. I’m trying to avoid the grapevine.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear from her again,” he said, opening the door. “Good luck.”
I strolled along the mall past a jewelry store and bakery toward the ATM kiosk at the end of the shops. At the ATM, I unzipped the side pocket of my backpack then gaped at the contents, puzzled. My wallet was opened upside down, my change, driver’s license, and credit cards scattered at the bottom of the pocket. I rifled through and found nothing missing. Maybe the wallet jostled open when I tossed the backpack into the cubbyhole or onto the bench in the ladies’ room? Fear of robbery wasn’t an issue at Game On—members left purses, wallets, and smartphones in full view in the cubbyholes without concern. I shook off my bewilderment, slid my bank card into the slot, and withdrew some money.
On the way back to my car, I glanced inside the open bakery door. Behind the counter, a girl in oven mitts slid a tray of muffins onto a rack. Mitts plus a hot tray meant muffins fresh out of the oven to me. Not going in would be an insult to the baker. Five minutes later, I exited with a warm carrot-raisin oat-bran muffin and a cappuccino, and sat at a small sidewalk table.
With the sun beaming overhead and cars buzzing along the boulevard, I ate my muffin and sipped cappuccino, content to enjoy a moment of peace.
“Mind if I join you?”
I smiled up at Tess. “Please do.”
“Be right back.” She disappeared into the bakery, returned with an iced coffee, and sat across from me. “So, you don’t believe my plumber theory, huh? Think it over. I told you, I’m pretty good at this stuff. I picked up on a shift in your aura. You’ve got a dark cloud around you.”
“The last few days have been rough. Laycee and I were friends years ago in Atlanta. Her death was a shock.”
“Do you know her family?”
“I ran into her husband yesterday. He’s understandably a wreck. The police haven’t been able to tell him what happened yet.” I finished my muffin and downed the rest of my coffee.
“I know you think my dream is silly, but—”
“Not at all, Tess. Dreams are revealing but they’re also very personal. You won’t convince me a dream can solve a murder unless the dreamer had intimate knowledge about the crime.” I sat back and teased, “Anything you want to tell me?”
She threw her hand to her chest. “Me? No way. I saw Laycee only once. You shouldn’t resist communications from the beyond. They’re all around us if you pay attention. I’m a messenger. My dream stayed with me because I was meant to tell you about it.”
“Then thank you. I appreciate the thought. I’ll keep the dream in mind.” I stood and tossed my trash. Tess and I walked to our cars parked in front of the gym and wished each other a good weekend before she drove off.
Earl came out, scowling, and looked up and down the parking lot. “I’m sick of this, damn it. My client is late again. If he doesn’t get here soon, I’m—”
The rest of his words were drowned out by the rattling tailpipes of a motorcycle blasting into the lot. A biker in fatigues parked the bike in front of the gym, climbed off, shot Earl a dirty look, then entered Game On.
“Member?” I said.
“Are you kidding? He’s another one of Kyle’s”—Earl fingered air quotes—“people.”
Since Stan had taken the day off, I parked in my own driveway at home, a small luxury I would happily trade for completed renovations. I hurried inside to the den, plopping on the sofa eager to hear Oliver’s opinion on Thad Owen.