us.
“ Portia, darlin ’ !” She gave a big smile and walked over to me, running her fingers through my hair. “ You ’ ve had you r hair done! Oh, baby, I love it. Doesn ’ t she look just beautiful, Vera?” Vera smiled and nodded. Mags turned back to me. “ So, how are you doing, baby?”
“ How am I doing?” I gasped. “ I ’ m springing my mother from the can, how do you think I am?”
“ Now, that ’ s a little dramatic. Technically, it was Bev who sprung me.” She winked at me. “ Really, baby, you didn ’ t have to come all the way down here. Everything ’ s just fine. It ’ s all a big misunderstanding.”
I looked at Vera, who looked away, and then at Bev, who ga ve me a starched smile.
“ A misunderstanding?” I said. “ Mags, there ’ s a cow running loose in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot.”
She smiled up at Ian. “ Why, Ian Beckett. It ’ s good to see you again. How ’ s that novel coming along?”
“ Quite well. Thank you, Mags.”
“ Good, that ’ s good.” She handed me a classic it ’ s-all-good smile. “ I need to get home and clean up. You take care, baby.”
I gave a slow nod. She grinned at Ian.
“ It was good to see you again, Ian.”
She winked at me and strolled out of the police station, h ead held high despite the mud. Vera and Bev looked at each other, then at me.
“ Okay, you two,” I said. “ You have to tell me what ’ s going on here.”
Ian gave me a gentle touch on the shoulder. “ I ’ ll wait for you outside.” He nodded at Vera and Bev. “ Good eve ning, ladies.” Vera watched Ian leave, then opened her mouth.
“ Honey, don ’ t you worry none, it ’ s just that Mags —”
She stopped as Bev put her hand on Vera ’ s arm. “ It ’ s not our place, Vera.”
Vera shot a look at Bev, then turned back to me.
“ Come to dinner Su nday, darlin ’,” she said. “ We ’ ll talk then.” I felt my stomach turn and grabbed Vera ’ s arm. “ Look, at least tell me...Is she okay? Is it early senility? Is she on medication? Because this is not Mags.”
Vera patted my hand. “ It ’ s not like that, Portia. I kn ow it looks bad, but it ’ s just a...thing. See you Sunday? Okay?”
I nodded. “ Okay.”
I watched through the windows as Bev and Vera crossed the street to our old red Jeep Cherokee. Mags sat in the back, waiting to be taken home. I couldn ’ t see much of her exp ression from the distance, but I knew something was different. I knew it. I just couldn ’ t figure out what.
“ So he...tucked your hair behind your ear?” Beauji pumped her arms as she walked. I was more than a little discouraged by the fact that a woman who w as about to explode with baby was clocking me at six in the morning, but I was trying not to dwell.
“ Yeah. I know it sounds like nothing...” I puffed. “ How are you walking so fast?”
“ Walking induces labor,” she said. “ I ’ ve been walking a few miles every da y during the rest of pregnancy, but I had to take it easy then. I kicked it up to five power miles a day last week.” Oh. God. Five. Miles. I dropped it down a notch.
“ Well, slow it down,” I said, taking a pull from my water bottle. “ That baby ’ s not due for another two weeks, and it might not even come on time. Don ’ t people go late all the time?”
Beauji stopped walking and gasped, horrified. “ I can ’ t believe you just said that to me.”
I turned to face her, trying to pretend I wasn ’ t struggling for breath. “ S o, what do you think? I mean, it ’ s just a hair tuck. It ’ s not like he...”
“ ...kissed you.”
“ Exactly. But there was definitely a...”
“ ...moment.”
“ Right.” I stared at her. “ Am I making too much out of this?” Beauji shrugged. “ I have no idea. I mean, maybe i t ’ s an English thing. But, gun to my head, I ’ d say he ’ s hot to get you between the sheets.”
“ Ah!” I held up a hand, turning and walking away. “ Stop! I can
“ Portia, darlin ’ !” She gave a big smile and walked over to me, running her fingers through my hair. “ You ’ ve had you r hair done! Oh, baby, I love it. Doesn ’ t she look just beautiful, Vera?” Vera smiled and nodded. Mags turned back to me. “ So, how are you doing, baby?”
“ How am I doing?” I gasped. “ I ’ m springing my mother from the can, how do you think I am?”
“ Now, that ’ s a little dramatic. Technically, it was Bev who sprung me.” She winked at me. “ Really, baby, you didn ’ t have to come all the way down here. Everything ’ s just fine. It ’ s all a big misunderstanding.”
I looked at Vera, who looked away, and then at Bev, who ga ve me a starched smile.
“ A misunderstanding?” I said. “ Mags, there ’ s a cow running loose in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot.”
She smiled up at Ian. “ Why, Ian Beckett. It ’ s good to see you again. How ’ s that novel coming along?”
“ Quite well. Thank you, Mags.”
“ Good, that ’ s good.” She handed me a classic it ’ s-all-good smile. “ I need to get home and clean up. You take care, baby.”
I gave a slow nod. She grinned at Ian.
“ It was good to see you again, Ian.”
She winked at me and strolled out of the police station, h ead held high despite the mud. Vera and Bev looked at each other, then at me.
“ Okay, you two,” I said. “ You have to tell me what ’ s going on here.”
Ian gave me a gentle touch on the shoulder. “ I ’ ll wait for you outside.” He nodded at Vera and Bev. “ Good eve ning, ladies.” Vera watched Ian leave, then opened her mouth.
“ Honey, don ’ t you worry none, it ’ s just that Mags —”
She stopped as Bev put her hand on Vera ’ s arm. “ It ’ s not our place, Vera.”
Vera shot a look at Bev, then turned back to me.
“ Come to dinner Su nday, darlin ’,” she said. “ We ’ ll talk then.” I felt my stomach turn and grabbed Vera ’ s arm. “ Look, at least tell me...Is she okay? Is it early senility? Is she on medication? Because this is not Mags.”
Vera patted my hand. “ It ’ s not like that, Portia. I kn ow it looks bad, but it ’ s just a...thing. See you Sunday? Okay?”
I nodded. “ Okay.”
I watched through the windows as Bev and Vera crossed the street to our old red Jeep Cherokee. Mags sat in the back, waiting to be taken home. I couldn ’ t see much of her exp ression from the distance, but I knew something was different. I knew it. I just couldn ’ t figure out what.
“ So he...tucked your hair behind your ear?” Beauji pumped her arms as she walked. I was more than a little discouraged by the fact that a woman who w as about to explode with baby was clocking me at six in the morning, but I was trying not to dwell.
“ Yeah. I know it sounds like nothing...” I puffed. “ How are you walking so fast?”
“ Walking induces labor,” she said. “ I ’ ve been walking a few miles every da y during the rest of pregnancy, but I had to take it easy then. I kicked it up to five power miles a day last week.” Oh. God. Five. Miles. I dropped it down a notch.
“ Well, slow it down,” I said, taking a pull from my water bottle. “ That baby ’ s not due for another two weeks, and it might not even come on time. Don ’ t people go late all the time?”
Beauji stopped walking and gasped, horrified. “ I can ’ t believe you just said that to me.”
I turned to face her, trying to pretend I wasn ’ t struggling for breath. “ S o, what do you think? I mean, it ’ s just a hair tuck. It ’ s not like he...”
“ ...kissed you.”
“ Exactly. But there was definitely a...”
“ ...moment.”
“ Right.” I stared at her. “ Am I making too much out of this?” Beauji shrugged. “ I have no idea. I mean, maybe i t ’ s an English thing. But, gun to my head, I ’ d say he ’ s hot to get you between the sheets.”
“ Ah!” I held up a hand, turning and walking away. “ Stop! I can
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