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  “Oh, Lord,” I said as I came up for air. “Are we done yet?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I am so sick of you embarrassing me in front of my friends,” she snapped. “Don’t you want to know how I found out about your little arrangement with my husband?”

  Not really. But somehow I assumed I was about to be enlightened anyway.

  “He was at the club yesterday afternoon, bragging about it, that’s how! During his Sunday afternoon golf game!”

  Dare I say, this actually was interesting news? First of all, I didn’t deem my BLT’s worthy of much bragging. But more importantly, I had thought Ian was altogether out of friends. And altogether out of money. A round of golf at the Clarence Country Club couldn’t be cheap. And surely this stupid club had a men’s locker room? Replete with a working shower?

  Not that I knew the details, mind you. The country club thing was one of the many changes Amanda had made in my ex-husband’s lifestyle. I doubt Ian had ever played a round of golf until she entered his life, hell-bent on raising her social status.

  Oh, but the wannabe socialite was still hissing. “Thank God Lydia Horchild had the decency to call me. She heard Ian talking with Dickie Rumsfield at the bar. He told Dickie he’s thinking of going back to you!” she shrieked.

  “What!?” I shrieked back.

  I was concluding that my ex had taken his last shower in my condo when Amanda informed me I would not succeed in stealing him away from her.

  “I’m taking him back,” she said. She tossed her head and waited for me to protest.

  I took a deep and highly-relieved breath—and there’s a first time for everything—offered her my sincerest thanks. Then I pointed her short yet sturdy person in the direction of 209 Vine Street.

  ***

  Now where was I? Oh yes, Sarina Blyss had jumped, and her bosom had trembled magnificently. “Father Conforti!” the lady exclaimed, her eyes aglow with renewed vim. “He knows me!”

  Trey was ever so excited to hear about the good Father. For not only did the priest know Sarina, he had been at her dear mother’s bedside the night she died, and had witnessed the final request of Gabriella Blyss—that her daughter be given her golden necklace. Why, Father Conforti had even watched as Sarina’s father removed the necklace from his beloved wife’s neck and placed it into his young daughter’s hands.

  Trey admired Sarina’s delicate hands and asked if Father Conforti might recognize her nowadays.

  Oh, yes! Sarina was sure he would. Father Conforti had also attended her father’s final hours, and had even ventured out from his parish in Priesters to the Blyss household several times since then. The priest had been concerned about her well-being, but he had no way to help Sarina escape her sister-in-law, other than to suggest she become a nun.

  Sarina blushed and whispered that she did not believe she wanted to become a nun.

  Trey agreed wholeheartedly. And vowing to journey to Priesters and locate Father Conforti that very day, he sprang to his feet. He bid farewell to his lady, but before departing the jailhouse, he stopped to issue a stern warning to Constable Klodfelder. He threatened to bring the full power behind his title down upon the Constable’s head if any harm befell the good lady before his return.

  Klodfelder reminded the Duke he was about to lose that title. Everyone knew, the Constable bellowed loudly enough for Sarina to hear, that the Duke of Luxley had to get himself married before the week was over, or cease being a Duke at all.

  Trey assured the Constable he already had a lady in mind and would be married forthwith. And Sarina clasped the bars of her cell in an effort to keep from swooning.

  Chapter 23

  Miss Blyss was indulging in a shockingly vivid fantasy of her wedding night when I shut off my computer. I stood and stretched, and asked Snowflake to help me choose an outfit worthy of my final excursion to the Wade On Inn.

  The cat seemed skeptical, and as I perused my wardrobe, I understood why. I had run out of bizarre ensembles. But fortunately, I was supposed to be on vacation. I clad myself in the exact same outfit I had worn for my first night of sleuthing and hoped the folks at the Wade On Inn would understand my limited options.

  Karen and Candy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Karen claimed the dog collar necklace was starting to grow on her. I argued that, no, it was starting to grow on me, and we headed to the bar.

  On the drive over I broke the news that this would be our last night at the Wade On Inn. “It’s so unfair,” I lamented. “We were doing so well.”

  “But gosh, Jessie,” Candy argued. “What about last night with your mother and all?”

  “I’m surprised Wilson didn’t kill you,” Karen added.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But my mother did a fantastic job yesterday.” I reported what she had learned about the gun. “She also told me Fritz was gay. Surely that’s worth knowing?”

  Candy asked why, and I admitted I had no idea. We were pondering the implications, whatever they might be, when Karen asked what specifically we should work on that evening.

  “The gun,” I said. “Supposedly everyone knew about it, but let’s try to verify that. And maybe find out what kind of gun it was.”

  I thought back on the cop shows I had seen on TV. Not many, since I rarely watch TV. “If we know the make of the gun, and Wilson has the bullets the killer used, maybe he can figure out the connection.”

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Karen said. “I don’t know anything about guns.”

  “Neither do I. But if anyone mentions a brand name or whatever, just try to remember it.”

  “Caliber,” Candy said. “I think there’s something about calibers, isn’t there?”

  The three of us shrugged in unison, blissfully, or naively, ignorant.

  I gently elbowed Candy. “And we need to know more details on Angela’s love life, Sweetie. Get Mackenzie to tell you who Angela dated after she broke up with Spencer.”

  “Angela’s new boyfriend.” Candy sounded determined. “Got it.”

  “What about me?” Karen asked.

  “Work on Bobby Decker and make sure the new boyfriend wasn’t him after all.” I hesitated, wondering how to make my next request remotely palatable. “And maybe you can work on Henry Jack and find out his opinion on gays.”

  “Say what?”

  “Pastor Muckenfuss doesn’t approve of gays,” I explained as the truck hit a pothole. “And he has a history of inciting his parishioners to violence.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Karen swerved to avoid another pothole. “You want me to keep dancing with a guy who might be a homicidal homophobe?”

  My lack of response clued her in that this was exactly what I hoped she would do.

  “Oh boy,” she mumbled with little enthusiasm.

  “Gosh.” Candy start chewing her knuckle. “Maybe Wilson’s right. This is getting kind of dangerous.”

  My mind wandered to Kevin Cooper. Since he wasn’t a cop, that meant the only person Wilson had out there protecting us was Goldilocks?

  ***

  We arrived at the Wade On Inn to the not so sweet sounds of Chester Straney, and Karen informed me she loves his stuff. “But he can be kind of sad,” she added.

  I tilted my head to listen more carefully, and sure enough, Chester was singing a melancholy ballad about his hunting hounds. The woeful tune was clearly having an effect on Mr. Leather and Chains. Much like the lone Drunken Dancer, he was out on the dance floor swaying to the beat. One thing I could say for the Drunken Dancer—at least she was quiet about it.

  Karen watched for only a moment before going out to rescue, or at least dance with, the poor guy.

  Candy also got right to work. She wished me luck and found the barstool next to Mackenzie.

  Inspired by my friends’ enthusiasm for their own tasks, I headed for the pool table. I was determined to learn about Fritz Lupo and his gun, even if I had no plan as to how I might go about accomplishing this goal.

  If I were more clever, or my mot
her, I could have delved right on in with the regulars and my interrogation would seem perfectly natural. Heck, the real Tessie likely could have convinced Bobby Decker to crawl under the pool table and look for the stupid thing.

  The fake Tessie made do with shooting a few games of nine ball. I played against several people I hadn’t met before, hoping the opportunity for sleuthing might somehow present itself.

  After the strangers had lost enough money, they wandered off toward the bar. Melissa was clamoring for a game, but the railbirds insisted I play a match with Avis. We agreed on the first to three and lagged for the break. While Avis racked, I assessed the crowd.

  Bobby Decker was missing.

  I checked again. I glanced over at the bar and scanned the dance floor. Karen was dancing with one of the guys who had just lost a small fortune to me. But no Bobby.

  I turned back to the pool table. “Where’s Bobby?” I asked casually.

  “That’s the million dollar question,” Spencer answered as he pulled three fifties from his wallet.

  The others murmured that they had not seen Bobby either, but everyone was too distracted placing their wagers to give it much thought.

  I sunk the one ball on the break and pretended to have some trouble figuring out my strategy for the two. “That’s funny,” I said to the pool table. “I got the impression Bobby’s always here.”

  “It’s not like him,” Avis agreed.

  “We should always be this lucky,” Melissa chimed in, and suggested that since Bobby was absent, I should play her next.

  “Better yet, Tessie can play Spencer.” Ethel winked at Spencer. “I’ll hold your hat, big guy.”

  Kevin glanced over from cleaning his glasses and mentioned Spencer does not wear a hat.

  “Well then, we’ll hold onto anything else he cares to offer,” Doreen bellowed and poked Spencer with her cane.

  Spencer didn’t even notice, since he was too busy watching Candy from across the room.

  “So,” I said in a voice that rivaled Doreen’s in volume. “How about that Fritz guy?”

  Everyone stared at me as if I had taken leave of my senses, which of course, I had. But I pretended my question was perfectly reasonable and turned to Ethel.

  “I mean, would you hold onto anything Fritz offered?” I winked at who knows what. “I hear he was good looking, too.”

  “Where’d you get that idea?” Melissa asked.

  I tilted my head. Maybe from her?

  Spencer tore his eyes away from Candy and suggested I concentrate on my game.

  I missed the three ball and gave Avis a turn. Somehow he managed to keep his mind on Fritz Lupo even as he sunk the three, four, and five. “Fritz wasn’t interested in the ladies,” he mumbled as he pocketed the six.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  The seven ball disappeared and Mr. Sage stepped back from the table. He beckoned me to bend down so he could whisper something to me. “The Fox wasn’t interested in the ladies,” he repeated, emphasizing the word ladies.

  “Did everyone know?” I whispered back.

  Avis pointed to himself. “Just the old man and Melissa. Fritz was real private about it.”

  A couple of railbirds called over and asked if we intended to talk all night or play pool. Avis finished the game, and I racked while copious amounts of cash exchanged hands.

  But Avis broke badly, and soon it was my turn again. The railbirds be damned, I took my time and prowled around the table until I once more stood next to Avis.

  “Why did Fritz tell you guys?” I asked. Avis looked puzzled. “You know, sir, about not liking women?”

  It felt wrong to be so curious about a gay guy’s love life. But, as Wilson was so quick to remind me, we Hewitts are hung up on everyone’s love life. And politically incorrect or not, I needed some answers.

  Avis again lowered his voice. “Melissa needed to be told, if you know what I mean.” I raised an eyebrow, and he frowned. “It was a long time ago, Tessie.”

  Everyone yelled at me to play, and I hopped up to the table and sank a few. But I reminded myself time was of the essence, purposely missed the five ball, and stepped back.

  “This Fritz guy sounds like quite a character.” I raised my voice and spoke to no one in particular.

  “We miss him,” Melissa agreed.

  “But things must be safer now,” I ventured. I had everyone’s attention, but concentrated on Melissa. “Didn’t you tell me someone tried to kill Fritz years ago? And now he really did get killed?” I shook my head. “Sounds to me like the guy was trouble.”

  Everyone was still staring at me, so I did some more bad acting. “What?” My eyes darted from one regular to another. “Things are safer now, aren’t they?”

  Avis gestured for me to rack the balls. I did so, but also continued on my merry, suicidal way. “I shouldn’t be scared playing here, should I?” Again I surveyed the regulars for a reaction.

  Spencer Erring was not the only one frowning at me, but he was the first to answer. “You’ve been hanging out here all week, and no one’s killed you yet,” he said.

  “Yet,” Kevin Cooper mumbled as he handed five dollars to Doreen.

  “Life’s too short to worry about danger,” she announced with a firm rap of her cane.

  Melissa patted my shoulder and pointed me back to the table. Mr. Sage had missed the three ball and was waiting for me.

  “We are safe here, Avis?” I asked as I took aim.

  “No need to be scared, Tessie,” Avis told me once I made the shot. “The gun’s gone now.”

  Ahhh. The gun.

  “Oh?” I ever so calmly kept my eyes on the table. “What about the gun?” I missed the four and looked up.

  Avis was shaking his head. “I always knew it would cause trouble.”

  I actually stopped him from shooting. “Okay, now you’re really scaring me. What about the gun?”

  Avis leaned on his cue and spoke to everyone. “I guess it’s okay for everyone to know now. Fritz kept a gun hidden under the pool table. For emergencies, he said.”

  “What!?” I acted shocked. “You mean to tell me there’s a gun under here?” I held onto the table and pretended to need support, while Avis tried to resume play.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Tessie.” That was Ethel. “It’s gone now. The police must have it.”

  My eyes got wide, Candy-Poppe style. “You mean,” I gasped for good measure, “that was the gun? Like, the murder weapon?”

  “Well, yeah.” Doreen puffed herself up. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “What kind of gun was this?” I asked.

  “A gun, gun,” Doreen said impatiently. “You know? The kind with bullets?”

  Avis missed the five ball, but I continued to act too startled to resume the game.

  “Who knew about this gun, Avis? Everyone?” I waved a hand about, all agitated.

  “Just me and Mel and Fritz.” Avis frowned at the old ladies. “It was our little secret, if you know what I mean.”

  Melissa chuckled. “I have news for you, old man. Everyone and his brother knew about that gun.” She pointed to Ethel and Doreen. “Even those two.”

  “I didn’t know.” Spencer was staring at the pool table like it might explode at any moment.

  “Yes you did,” Melissa argued.

  “Leave poor Spencer alone,” Ethel scolded. “If he didn’t know, he didn’t know.”

  I turned and blinked at Kevin. But he was busy cleaning his stupid glasses and refused to catch my eye.

  “The game?” someone called out.

  I stepped forward and ran the table.

  Chapter 24

  “Don’t tell Wilson, but I may be happy this was our last night at the Wade On Inn,” I told my friends once we were safely back in the truck. “I’m exhausted and confused.” I closed my eyes. “And exhausted,” I repeated.

  My phone rang from inside the glove compartment. I kept my eyes closed and tried ignoring it, but Candy answered anyway
.

  “It’s Wilson,” she said as she handed it to me.

  I told him we were on our way, and he suggested we meet at my place again.

  “Perfect,” I agreed. “I’m ready to climb into my jammies and sleep for about a week.”

  “I hear you,” Karen mumbled.

  I closed my eyes and indulged in a brief but splendid fantasy of my pajamas.

  “Wake up, Jessie.” Wilson must have heard me yawn. “I need the three of you alert for a while longer. Densmore and Sass are joining us, too.”

  I opened one eye. “Sass?”

  “I’ve called a meeting.”

  I groaned. “Don’t even tell me you’ve invited Tiffany Sass to my condo.”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  I hung up and informed my friends of the plan. “Apparently we are not exhausted enough.”

  Karen groaned also.

  “Come on, you two,” Candy said. “It’ll be fun.”

  I may have whimpered.

  “No, really,” she insisted. “I’ll pour some champagne the minute we get to your place, okay? That will make us feel better.”

  Karen said something about not liking champagne, and I argued that the thought of having Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass in my home did not exactly inspire me to celebrate.

  Candy would hear none of it. When she again insisted we would have fun, I closed my eyes. I might have prayed for strength, but fell asleep instead.

  ***

  But, bless his hyperactive heart, Puddles has an uncanny knack for energizing people. We gathered him from Mr. Harrison, made a trip to the fire hydrant, and took the elevator up to my place.

  Wilson was preparing tea when we arrived, and Snowflake was sitting on the kitchen counter, watching him with an adoring feline countenance. She blinked briefly at Puddles, meowed a greeting to me, and resumed watching my beau.

  “We were thinking more along the lines of champagne than tea,” I told Wilson and gestured for Candy and Karen to take the easy chairs. I plopped myself down on the couch, and the three of us worked on removing our shoes. Puddles was deciding which of the six choices to destroy, when someone buzzed downstairs.