placed the last muffin, and he hurried on to the
next question. “How long have you owned the café?”
“Ten years. I came out here from Pensacola when my Mervin died.” As if sensing his
immediate thought, she laughed briefly and said, “Yes, Minerva and Mervin. We took
quite a bit of ribbing. But, oh, what a match we made.” Her laughter faded to a smile
illuminated by what must have been wonderful memories, judging by the way her eyes
misted slightly.
Tucker felt that empty place he’d discovered inside himself after Pete’s death yawn
a bit wider. What would it feel like to love someone so deeply that the slightest
mentionof them brought tears to a person’s eyes even years after their death?
“I can’t believe you’ve known Lillian so long and she’s never mentioned you,” she
said, yanking him back to the present.
He was blessedly saved from further grilling when the bells on the door tinkled. Another
customer. He silently prayed for an early-lunch horde. But a quick glance showed him
that it was only one person. Another senior. A worried senior, judging by the way
she rushed to the counter, her penciled brows furrowing deep lines in the heavily
powdered space between them.
“Good morning, Betty Louise,” Minerva greeted her.
Betty Louise didn’t acknowledge the greeting. She leaned over the counter as far from
where Tucker was sitting as possible and said in a hushed whisper that they could
both plainly hear, “I must talk to you, Minerva. Right away.”
“Certainly,” she said calmly, as if overanxious customers were a normal occurrence.
For all Tucker knew, maybe they were. She turned to him and said, “Help yourself to
another muffin—”
“Really, Minerva, it can’t wait.” Betty Louise twisted the white gloves she held in
her hands until Tucker half thought she might wrench them in two. The woman was really
upset. “I tried to call Bernice, but she’s at her sister’s this weekend. It’s urgent,
I tell you. I just saw …” She shot a glance at Tucker and her frown deepened, then
she cupped one hand at the corner of her mouth, blocking his unabashed view. “You-know-who.
And he was talking to …” She glared at him again. “You-know-who.”
Minerva merely smiled. “Now, now, don’t go gettingall riled up, you’ll have a spell.” She turned quickly to Tucker and said, “I’ll be
back in a few minutes.” She picked up her oven mitts and went to the end of the counter.
She flipped the latch, allowing Betty Louise behind the counter, then patted her arm.
“Have you taken your medication this morning, dear?” Tucker heard Minerva ask as they
disappeared through the swinging doors.
Betty Louise. Bernice. The other two members of the group involved in this mystery.
He sat there for a full minute, debating the wisdom of what his gut was telling him
to do. And it was not to wolf down another blueberry muffin, though they were, hands
down, the best he’d ever tasted.
He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, then slid off the stool and walked to the
end of the short counter. He leaned over and flipped the latch. If caught, he could
always say he was getting the coffeepot. He didn’t think Minerva would mind the intrusion.
He went for the pot, then hovered back near the swinging doors, straining to hear
the hushed conversation taking place in the back room.
If he was lucky, he’d get the name of the guy without having to talk to Lainey at
all. Then he could make some contacts and, he hoped, find out something about him
that would answer Lillian’s concerns, ending this stupid game once and for all. Then
Tucker could get back to the matter at hand.
He conveniently refused to think about the fact that the matter at hand was figuring
out exactly what the matter at hand should be. Mapping out a new life was not as smooth
an operation as he’d anticipated. He knew he no longer wanted his old
next question. “How long have you owned the café?”
“Ten years. I came out here from Pensacola when my Mervin died.” As if sensing his
immediate thought, she laughed briefly and said, “Yes, Minerva and Mervin. We took
quite a bit of ribbing. But, oh, what a match we made.” Her laughter faded to a smile
illuminated by what must have been wonderful memories, judging by the way her eyes
misted slightly.
Tucker felt that empty place he’d discovered inside himself after Pete’s death yawn
a bit wider. What would it feel like to love someone so deeply that the slightest
mentionof them brought tears to a person’s eyes even years after their death?
“I can’t believe you’ve known Lillian so long and she’s never mentioned you,” she
said, yanking him back to the present.
He was blessedly saved from further grilling when the bells on the door tinkled. Another
customer. He silently prayed for an early-lunch horde. But a quick glance showed him
that it was only one person. Another senior. A worried senior, judging by the way
she rushed to the counter, her penciled brows furrowing deep lines in the heavily
powdered space between them.
“Good morning, Betty Louise,” Minerva greeted her.
Betty Louise didn’t acknowledge the greeting. She leaned over the counter as far from
where Tucker was sitting as possible and said in a hushed whisper that they could
both plainly hear, “I must talk to you, Minerva. Right away.”
“Certainly,” she said calmly, as if overanxious customers were a normal occurrence.
For all Tucker knew, maybe they were. She turned to him and said, “Help yourself to
another muffin—”
“Really, Minerva, it can’t wait.” Betty Louise twisted the white gloves she held in
her hands until Tucker half thought she might wrench them in two. The woman was really
upset. “I tried to call Bernice, but she’s at her sister’s this weekend. It’s urgent,
I tell you. I just saw …” She shot a glance at Tucker and her frown deepened, then
she cupped one hand at the corner of her mouth, blocking his unabashed view. “You-know-who.
And he was talking to …” She glared at him again. “You-know-who.”
Minerva merely smiled. “Now, now, don’t go gettingall riled up, you’ll have a spell.” She turned quickly to Tucker and said, “I’ll be
back in a few minutes.” She picked up her oven mitts and went to the end of the counter.
She flipped the latch, allowing Betty Louise behind the counter, then patted her arm.
“Have you taken your medication this morning, dear?” Tucker heard Minerva ask as they
disappeared through the swinging doors.
Betty Louise. Bernice. The other two members of the group involved in this mystery.
He sat there for a full minute, debating the wisdom of what his gut was telling him
to do. And it was not to wolf down another blueberry muffin, though they were, hands
down, the best he’d ever tasted.
He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, then slid off the stool and walked to the
end of the short counter. He leaned over and flipped the latch. If caught, he could
always say he was getting the coffeepot. He didn’t think Minerva would mind the intrusion.
He went for the pot, then hovered back near the swinging doors, straining to hear
the hushed conversation taking place in the back room.
If he was lucky, he’d get the name of the guy without having to talk to Lainey at
all. Then he could make some contacts and, he hoped, find out something about him
that would answer Lillian’s concerns, ending this stupid game once and for all. Then
Tucker could get back to the matter at hand.
He conveniently refused to think about the fact that the matter at hand was figuring
out exactly what the matter at hand should be. Mapping out a new life was not as smooth
an operation as he’d anticipated. He knew he no longer wanted his old
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