An Appointment With Murder by Jennifer L. Jennings;John Simon

Gabby. We’ll make do in the living room.”
    “No way. I haven’t forgotten that you let me stay at your house for two weeks when I got kicked out of my last place and had nowhere to go.”
    So we followed her to her bedroom.
    “Hold on a sec,” she said, holding up a hand just as we were about to enter, “let me make sure I don’t have any ’toys’ lying around.”
    “Toys?” Brian repeated dubiously, as Gabby disappeared into the room.
    “Yeah, I think she collects vintage dolls,” I lied.
    “Okay. It’s all set, Make yourselves comfortable,” Gabby said, motioning us into her bedroom.
    “Brian, why don’t you go on in and relax for a bit. Gabby and I need to talk.” I gently slipped my hand inside her arm and steered her back to the kitchen.
    “You think I’m nuts, Gabby? I swear someone went through my desk today,” I said, slumping into one of her dining room chairs.
    “Look, I know you’ve been stressed out the past few days. Who wouldn’t be? Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you.”
    “That’s what Brian thinks.”
    “You’re dealing with a lot right now. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
    “I wish I knew what happened to Beth. It’s driving me mad.”
    “So what’s the next move?”
    “Well, I may have found a way to meet Carter.”
    “That guy Beth worked for?”
    “Yeah. I found out he was scheduled to meet Beth Saturday afternoon. Which reminds me, I’m still waiting for Max to call me back.”
    Gabby walked over to the counter and grabbed a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She set the glasses on the table in front of me and filled them.
    “What about your client? Did you call him, yet?”
    “Not yet. I’m still not sure about him.” I lifted my glass and sipped.
    Gabby gave me a strange look. “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You don’t sip fine tequila from a shot glass,” she said, as if I should have known better.
    “Well, pardon me,” I said, downing the rest of the clear liquid.
    “That’s better.” She refilled the glass.
    “Hey, slow down,” I said, raising a hand in protest. “I’m not used to drinking like this. Are you trying to get me drunk?”
    “That’s the general idea.”

Saturday, November 11
     
    I walked into Gabby’s kitchen the next morning to freshly brewed coffee and a note on the table informing me that she had an early appointment. I decided Brian deserved to sleep in, so didn’t wake him. Although my hangover wasn’t as bad as I expected, I took some Advil anyway, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table. Getting drunk twice in one week was not something I did often, and I was surprised at how well I was holding up. Nevertheless, I vowed to lay off the booze for a while. Just as I raised the cup to my lips and inhaled the aroma of the coffee, I heard my cell phone ringing. I spilled coffee setting the cup down, and dug into my purse for the phone. When I saw the caller ID, my heart skipped a beat.
    “Hey, Sarah. It’s Max.” He sounded as if he’d just gotten up as well.
    “Oh, God. Oh, good. Thanks for calling,” I said, a bit breathlessly.
    “What’s up?” he asked, an odd tone in his voice. Could he possibly still be feeling awkward about the kissing episode, I wondered?
    “I was hoping you could come over. I have some things to tell you concerning Carter.”
    “Sure,” he replied, the warmth returning to his voice. “I can be there in half an hour.”
    “Actually, can you come to Gabby’s house? Brian and I stayed here last night. I’ll explain when I see you.” I gave him her address.
    “I’ll see you shortly,” he said, and hung up.
    I walked back to Gabby’s bedroom. Brian was still sleeping, so I leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek. The poor kid was a champ for putting up with such a neurotic mother. On my way out of the bedroom, I slipped into an oversized wool sweater I picked up off the floor and donned a baseball cap that