Is my anxiety about this morning that transparent?
“No, no, nothing like that,” I say, and I can tell my words sound forced. For a brief moment I consider sharing what’s going on with the cops. Because of her job, Sandra probably has excellent resources and contacts in town, and knows the lay of the land. She may even be able to confirm whether Maycock is the right lawyer for me. But I don’t dare. Based on what I know so far of her, she seems a bit indiscreet.
“I’m so glad to hear that. The police here can be such bullies.”
I shrug, as if I haven’t got a concern in the world. “I’m sure they’re just doing their job.”
She shakes her head in dismay, and her shiny black hair catches the sunlight. “Of course it now looks as if I had my locks changed for nothing.”
I tense, confused.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We don’t have to worry about a serial killer on the prowl. They’re saying she was killed by someone she knew, someone with—if you’ll excuse the expression—an ax to grind.”
I flinch at the words. Am I supposed to be the person with the ax to grind?
“They? Who are they?”
“People in town, so maybe it doesn’t amount to much. But there’s been all this buzz about the fact that Eve Blazer had a lover, and that’s probably what led to her murder.”
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“No, lover—as in a married man. She’d apparently confided to a few friends about him. She claimed he was in a marriage he was dying to escape from, that his wife was extremely fragile and had sucked all the joy from his life. Who knows? Maybe she’s the one who did it.”
Chapter 19
Is the married man Guy? Am I the so-called “fragile” wife? Did my husband tell Eve I’d sucked all the joy from his life?
“Don’t people here have anything better to do than gossip about a dead woman?” I snap. The words spit from my mouth before I can catch them, but part of me doesn’t care. I can’t stand to hear any more of this.
Sandra appears taken aback by my response. She flips a hand over in a gesture that says she doesn’t have an easy explanation. “It’s hard to blame them. I’m sure everyone in town is feeling anxious about having a murderer at large. It’s cast a terrible pall.”
“Let’s table the topic, can we? I’m sick to death of it.”
“Of course.”
Speaking of casting a pall, I’ve done exactly that with lunch. Sandra averts her gaze and glances down at the table. She picks up the saltshaker and studies it, as if she can’t think of anything else to do. I’m sure she’s wondering what nerve she just hit, and I can’t let her start to speculate.
“Excuse me for sounding grouchy, Sandra. I guess I’ve been worrying about the murderer, too, and really want to put the whole business out of my mind.”
“Understood.” She offers a pleasant smile, but I sense I haven’t mitigated the situation. At that moment the waitress sidles over to the table, preventing what’s bound to have been an awkward silence.
“Can I get you ladies any coffee?” she asks.
“I’d love that,” I say, hopeful Sandra will agree and I can smooth things over. “Do you have time, Sandra? I’d love to talk a little longer.”
She checks her watch. “Yes, I’ve got time,” she says fortunately.
We order, and before the waitress heads off, I ask that she please bring the check to me.
“Why don’t we split it,” Sandra insists.
“No, please, it’s my treat. And I loved discovering this restaurant.”
“It’s a cute place, isn’t it?” She nods toward the window into the restaurant. “I like to come here in winter, too, and eat inside.”
“I’ll have to try it then.” Though right now that seems like the most improbable idea in the world.
Sandra taps her fingers absentmindedly on the table and I see her eyes flicker. She checks her watch again.
“Oh dear,” she exclaims, her hand flying to her mouth. “I read my watch wrong a minute ago. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to do coffee after all. Will you forgive me? I need to get back to the venue.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, though I’m finding it hard to buy her explanation. “Why don’t you dash? I’ll sit for a while and have my coffee.”
“You’re a sweetheart. And next time’s on me. I’ll call you when I’m postevent.”
Okay, I think, as she crosses the deck and descends the wooden steps to the parking lot. I’ve just managed to offend a potential ally. But if Sandra’s as gossipy as she seems, she might not be the best ally to have anyway.