spot, but Ethan stepped in and said, “She’s tougher than she looks.” He patted her hand.
Maria watched his hand touch Taffy’s and then looked away.
“No, she’s right,” Taffy said. “And it’s even freakier to think it might have been murder .”
Maria’s fingers tightened around her glass, and then she threw her head back and laughed lightly.
“Two days in town and you think you know more than the police?”
Ethan interjected. “That’s not what she means—”
But Taffy cut off Ethan’s attempt to protect her from this passive-aggressive nut of an off-duty cop who clearly had it in for her.
“What I mean is”—Taffy leaned forward—“I heard one of your coworkers thought it was suspicious to begin with.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “That would be Lieutenant Gravely.” With her glass, she gestured toward the back of the bar where two guys were playing pool, though she didn’t specify whether Gravely was the tall handsome guy with the nice smile or the skinnier fellow with a slight overbite. “He’s seen a few too many CSI episodes. Gets overzealous with nonprocedural tasks. The chief and I are trying to work with him on it.”
“Don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange that she died from a bowling ball falling on her head?”
“Of course it’s strange , but maybe she shouldn’t have stored her ball on the closet shelf. I can’t go around making sure people don’t do stupid things.” Maria gave Taffy a particularly pointed look.
“Right, you have your hands full with all those jaywalkers and speeders.” Taffy matched Maria’s look.
She smirked. “Actually, there’s only one culprit at the moment.”
Taffy pursed her lips and was working on an insulting comeback when Ethan said, with a charming diplomatic smile, “Ladies, we’re supposed to be having fun. I know I am, because I’m sitting here with one of my oldest friends…”—he indicated Maria with nod of his beer bottle—“and one of my newest friends.” He tipped his bottle toward Taffy. “As far as I’m concerned you’re both good nuts and simply got off on the wrong foot.”
Taffy looked away thinking, Nuts don’t have feet , but she told herself to make more of an effort for Ethan’s sake, and she knew it was not in her best interest to alienate too many people in town. She pasted a smile on her lips and tried another tack.
“Ethan said you used to live in New York a long time ago? I’m from there.”
Ethan smiled. Maria leaned back in her chair and nodded as she sipped her soda with lime, but she didn’t contribute anything to the potential conversation.
“So what brought you to Oregon?” Taffy said, trying harder.
Maria glanced at Ethan and then looked pointedly at Taffy. “Death.”
Taffy’s sip of beer seemed to bubble in her throat and made her cough.
“Oh, gosh, sorry to hear that.”
Maria shrugged and looked away. “It’s a long time ago now.”
Taffy wondered whose death. Maria didn’t seem to want to give much away.
“But you did grow up in New York? Where?”
“Upper East Side.”
That surprised Taffy, and it must have shown on her face, because Maria added, “My mother was a maid for a wealthy family when I was younger.”
That was a common enough story, but it still made Taffy uncomfortable. She sensed that Maria blamed her for something, but she had no idea what. Taffy had no control over anyone’s lot in life. And wealthy people suffered, too. Sometimes they did terrible things to each other, like book them one-way tickets to small towns in Oregon.
Maria added, “We moved to the West Coast when I was twelve, so I suppose I only partially grew up there. But it’s my home now.” She sipped her soda and watched Taffy, who was now thinking about the year when she turned twelve.
That time in her life was a mental blur. Taffy’s mother died that year, and the trauma of her death, the psychiatrist claimed, had had a damaging effect on her memories. Parts
Maria watched his hand touch Taffy’s and then looked away.
“No, she’s right,” Taffy said. “And it’s even freakier to think it might have been murder .”
Maria’s fingers tightened around her glass, and then she threw her head back and laughed lightly.
“Two days in town and you think you know more than the police?”
Ethan interjected. “That’s not what she means—”
But Taffy cut off Ethan’s attempt to protect her from this passive-aggressive nut of an off-duty cop who clearly had it in for her.
“What I mean is”—Taffy leaned forward—“I heard one of your coworkers thought it was suspicious to begin with.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “That would be Lieutenant Gravely.” With her glass, she gestured toward the back of the bar where two guys were playing pool, though she didn’t specify whether Gravely was the tall handsome guy with the nice smile or the skinnier fellow with a slight overbite. “He’s seen a few too many CSI episodes. Gets overzealous with nonprocedural tasks. The chief and I are trying to work with him on it.”
“Don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange that she died from a bowling ball falling on her head?”
“Of course it’s strange , but maybe she shouldn’t have stored her ball on the closet shelf. I can’t go around making sure people don’t do stupid things.” Maria gave Taffy a particularly pointed look.
“Right, you have your hands full with all those jaywalkers and speeders.” Taffy matched Maria’s look.
She smirked. “Actually, there’s only one culprit at the moment.”
Taffy pursed her lips and was working on an insulting comeback when Ethan said, with a charming diplomatic smile, “Ladies, we’re supposed to be having fun. I know I am, because I’m sitting here with one of my oldest friends…”—he indicated Maria with nod of his beer bottle—“and one of my newest friends.” He tipped his bottle toward Taffy. “As far as I’m concerned you’re both good nuts and simply got off on the wrong foot.”
Taffy looked away thinking, Nuts don’t have feet , but she told herself to make more of an effort for Ethan’s sake, and she knew it was not in her best interest to alienate too many people in town. She pasted a smile on her lips and tried another tack.
“Ethan said you used to live in New York a long time ago? I’m from there.”
Ethan smiled. Maria leaned back in her chair and nodded as she sipped her soda with lime, but she didn’t contribute anything to the potential conversation.
“So what brought you to Oregon?” Taffy said, trying harder.
Maria glanced at Ethan and then looked pointedly at Taffy. “Death.”
Taffy’s sip of beer seemed to bubble in her throat and made her cough.
“Oh, gosh, sorry to hear that.”
Maria shrugged and looked away. “It’s a long time ago now.”
Taffy wondered whose death. Maria didn’t seem to want to give much away.
“But you did grow up in New York? Where?”
“Upper East Side.”
That surprised Taffy, and it must have shown on her face, because Maria added, “My mother was a maid for a wealthy family when I was younger.”
That was a common enough story, but it still made Taffy uncomfortable. She sensed that Maria blamed her for something, but she had no idea what. Taffy had no control over anyone’s lot in life. And wealthy people suffered, too. Sometimes they did terrible things to each other, like book them one-way tickets to small towns in Oregon.
Maria added, “We moved to the West Coast when I was twelve, so I suppose I only partially grew up there. But it’s my home now.” She sipped her soda and watched Taffy, who was now thinking about the year when she turned twelve.
That time in her life was a mental blur. Taffy’s mother died that year, and the trauma of her death, the psychiatrist claimed, had had a damaging effect on her memories. Parts
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