choice. 'Just what I said, weren't you listening? Someone killed JoLynne Penn-Williams and dumped her body into your precious balloon after it was inflated.'
'It's not—' I interrupted myself because a thought suddenly struck me. Turning to Sarah, I said, 'We were on the porch with a clear view of the cup, right?'
She slid the dropped spoons back into the dishwasher's utensil basket. 'Right.'
'We stayed until after the thing fell, but what time did we get there?'
'Seven fifteen,' Amy contributed, coming from the back. 'I saw you pass by the side window –' a gesture toward the tracks – 'as I was filling the second thermal pot of coffee for Tien to take outside.'
'And when did they inflate the cup?' I asked Jerome.
'I'm not sure.' He seemed distracted by Amy's appearance, both in the sense of her joining us and her looks.
Cougar Kate growled at him. 'Jerome?'
He blinked. 'Uh, sorry. Maybe a little before six a.m.?'
'Isn't there a time stamp or something on your tape?' I asked as he continued to stare at our barista. Amy might be pierced, dyed and tattooed, but under it all she was a mighty attractive girl.
Jerome colored up. 'Oh, sure. I can check the counter on my camera, but I'm pretty sure it was about then. Still dark, with that white cup the only thing filmable until County Exec Hampton arrived around the same time to take the train to Milwaukee.' He shrugged. 'Since the engineer was making the run just to take him down and have the train in place for the Milwaukee celebration, even that wasn't very visual.'
Brewster? Not visual? 'Was his wife Anita leading him?'
Jerome shook his head. 'She came later. In fact, almost missed her ride. I remember because I got a nice long shot of the locomotive and cars heading off into the sunrise.'
Anita was probably off somewhere primping. Or sharpening her talons. 'And what time is sunrise these days? Six fifteen?'
'Roughly,' said Jerome.
I turned back to Kate. 'Well, there's your timeline. JoLynne could have been put in the cup between six a.m. and when Sarah and I arrived at seven fifteen.'
The reporter's eyes darted left-right-left, then her mouth dropped open. 'You're right.'
'Of course she is,' Sarah said. 'We've gotten good at this detection stuff.'
We? 'Now go tell the sheriff,' I suggested.
'Sheriff?' Kate virtually spat out the word. 'Don't be silly. I'm taking this to my station. I could get lead story, with a page one follow-up in the CitySentinel .'
'But shouldn't Maggy get contributing credit?' asked Jerome.
I waved him off. 'Whatever helps solve the case is fine with me. I don't need – or want – any more publicity from a homicide.'
And I was being truthful, so far as it went. But my unstated motivation was to have Kate fixate on JoLynne's murderer, rather than the dead woman's paramour.
Because, I feared, the victim's lover was also mine.
Chapter Nine
When they say love hurts, they ain't kidding.
'Damn.' I was grasping the handle of what used to be a glass coffee carafe, blood dripping from a cut on my right thumb.
'What did you do?' Amy searched for a towel in the drawer next to the sink.
We were reaching the end of a day that felt longer than the prior, dead-body one. Soccer moms, the lunch-bunch, even a sprinkling of seniors and home-office types looking for someone, any one, to talk to. All our usuals had come and gone, bless them, leaving us with just the returning commuter trains left. One at 5:30 and one at 6:30. And they couldn't arrive a moment too soon.
'Maggy broke a carafe,' Sarah said, gesturing to the shards on the floor. 'Another one.'
'Another one?' Carefully, Amy traded the towel for the handle, about all that remained of the pot. 'We have the clumsies today, don't we?'
Clumsies. The pre-school teacher coming into play again.
'Clumsies is right,' Sarah said. She was watching my blood drip on to the glass. 'You don't see me dropping any carafes.'
'I didn't drop the thing,' I protested. 'The bottom fell out on its
'It's not—' I interrupted myself because a thought suddenly struck me. Turning to Sarah, I said, 'We were on the porch with a clear view of the cup, right?'
She slid the dropped spoons back into the dishwasher's utensil basket. 'Right.'
'We stayed until after the thing fell, but what time did we get there?'
'Seven fifteen,' Amy contributed, coming from the back. 'I saw you pass by the side window –' a gesture toward the tracks – 'as I was filling the second thermal pot of coffee for Tien to take outside.'
'And when did they inflate the cup?' I asked Jerome.
'I'm not sure.' He seemed distracted by Amy's appearance, both in the sense of her joining us and her looks.
Cougar Kate growled at him. 'Jerome?'
He blinked. 'Uh, sorry. Maybe a little before six a.m.?'
'Isn't there a time stamp or something on your tape?' I asked as he continued to stare at our barista. Amy might be pierced, dyed and tattooed, but under it all she was a mighty attractive girl.
Jerome colored up. 'Oh, sure. I can check the counter on my camera, but I'm pretty sure it was about then. Still dark, with that white cup the only thing filmable until County Exec Hampton arrived around the same time to take the train to Milwaukee.' He shrugged. 'Since the engineer was making the run just to take him down and have the train in place for the Milwaukee celebration, even that wasn't very visual.'
Brewster? Not visual? 'Was his wife Anita leading him?'
Jerome shook his head. 'She came later. In fact, almost missed her ride. I remember because I got a nice long shot of the locomotive and cars heading off into the sunrise.'
Anita was probably off somewhere primping. Or sharpening her talons. 'And what time is sunrise these days? Six fifteen?'
'Roughly,' said Jerome.
I turned back to Kate. 'Well, there's your timeline. JoLynne could have been put in the cup between six a.m. and when Sarah and I arrived at seven fifteen.'
The reporter's eyes darted left-right-left, then her mouth dropped open. 'You're right.'
'Of course she is,' Sarah said. 'We've gotten good at this detection stuff.'
We? 'Now go tell the sheriff,' I suggested.
'Sheriff?' Kate virtually spat out the word. 'Don't be silly. I'm taking this to my station. I could get lead story, with a page one follow-up in the CitySentinel .'
'But shouldn't Maggy get contributing credit?' asked Jerome.
I waved him off. 'Whatever helps solve the case is fine with me. I don't need – or want – any more publicity from a homicide.'
And I was being truthful, so far as it went. But my unstated motivation was to have Kate fixate on JoLynne's murderer, rather than the dead woman's paramour.
Because, I feared, the victim's lover was also mine.
Chapter Nine
When they say love hurts, they ain't kidding.
'Damn.' I was grasping the handle of what used to be a glass coffee carafe, blood dripping from a cut on my right thumb.
'What did you do?' Amy searched for a towel in the drawer next to the sink.
We were reaching the end of a day that felt longer than the prior, dead-body one. Soccer moms, the lunch-bunch, even a sprinkling of seniors and home-office types looking for someone, any one, to talk to. All our usuals had come and gone, bless them, leaving us with just the returning commuter trains left. One at 5:30 and one at 6:30. And they couldn't arrive a moment too soon.
'Maggy broke a carafe,' Sarah said, gesturing to the shards on the floor. 'Another one.'
'Another one?' Carefully, Amy traded the towel for the handle, about all that remained of the pot. 'We have the clumsies today, don't we?'
Clumsies. The pre-school teacher coming into play again.
'Clumsies is right,' Sarah said. She was watching my blood drip on to the glass. 'You don't see me dropping any carafes.'
'I didn't drop the thing,' I protested. 'The bottom fell out on its
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