patting Dave’s hand with a proprietary air. “Judge Emerson’s had a lot
of experience with the Bureau, haven’t you, darling?”
Dave shrugged. “Well, yeah. I was a DA before I ran for judge and I worked with several agents who are still there.”
“Wow! That’s so cool. I wouldn’t have to work undercover, would I? Like, I think I’d be too scared for that, but surveillance
or profiling—that could be awesome! Is that what the guys you worked with did?”
Given the least bit of encouragement, I had the feeling that she was ready to sit at Dave’s feet and soak up stories of SBI
and DA derring-do, but Chelsea Ann interrupted to place her order for fried oysters. I wanted steamed shrimp and the others
opted for seafood of one variety or another as well.
Keeping six orders straight seemed to try young Jenna’s abilities. Either that or she was so interested in chatting with Dave
about the SBI each time she arrived at our table that she couldn’t match a single plate with the person who’d ordered it.
Even Martha, who has nothing but empathy for a restaurant’s waitstaff, sounded a little testy when she had to send her salad
back because the wrong dressing had been poured on it, while Dave, who had initially been amused by her enthusiasm, was annoyed
when his water arrived with a slice of lemon after he had specifically ordered it plain.
“Tell you what, Jenna,” Rosemary said, stepping in to deflect the table’s growing exasperation. “Instead of letting us take
up your time here, why don’t you give us your email address. My husband can send you the names of some Bureau people stationed
in this area, right, darling? I’m sure some of them would enjoy talking to her.”
I almost choked on my shrimp. I know several SBI agents myself, including more than one who would indeed be willing to “instruct”
a pretty young waitress. I glanced at Chelsea Ann, who was giving her sister a glare that I interpreted as “Are you out of
your fricking mind?”
“I guess I could,” Dave said.
“Oh, wow!” said Jenna. “That would be awesome!”
She immediately scribbled her name and contact info on her order pad and gave it to him, then hurried off to fetch the tartar
sauce she had forgotten to bring.
CHAPTER
11
The gravity of a past offense never increases ex post facto.
—Paulus (early AD 3rd century)
C helsea Ann and Rosemary invited me to join them on their hunt for the perfect vestibule table for Chelsea Ann’s new condo,
but by the time I had changed my bathing suit for more conventional lingerie and got down to the front of the hotel where
they were waiting in the car, they were snarling at each other as only siblings can.
The van’s windows were down and their angry words reached me clearly.
“He’s changed,” said Rosemary. “If I’m going to be suspicious every time a little airhead like that wanders by—”
“Give me a break,” Chelsea Ann snapped. “When are you going to realize that men like Dave don’t give a damn about what’s between
a woman’s ears? All they want is what’s between her legs. Can’t you see what’s happening? Getting you to show yourself out
on the balcony this morning? This public reconciliation in front of his peers?”
“You think it’s all about legalities?” Rosemary was indignant. “Condonation? In case we can’t get past this? You don’t think
it could be because he loves me?”
“Sorry to interrupt when y’all are having such a good time,” I said, opening a back door to check the floor and under the
seats, “but you didn’t happen to find an earring, did you?”
“No, when did you lose it?”
“Who knows?” I ran my fingers around the seat cushions. “I didn’t notice it was missing till I got back to the hotel.”
Rosemary twisted around in her seat. “You were only wearing one when we were waiting for that detective to let us go. I thought
maybe it was a new style. But then
of experience with the Bureau, haven’t you, darling?”
Dave shrugged. “Well, yeah. I was a DA before I ran for judge and I worked with several agents who are still there.”
“Wow! That’s so cool. I wouldn’t have to work undercover, would I? Like, I think I’d be too scared for that, but surveillance
or profiling—that could be awesome! Is that what the guys you worked with did?”
Given the least bit of encouragement, I had the feeling that she was ready to sit at Dave’s feet and soak up stories of SBI
and DA derring-do, but Chelsea Ann interrupted to place her order for fried oysters. I wanted steamed shrimp and the others
opted for seafood of one variety or another as well.
Keeping six orders straight seemed to try young Jenna’s abilities. Either that or she was so interested in chatting with Dave
about the SBI each time she arrived at our table that she couldn’t match a single plate with the person who’d ordered it.
Even Martha, who has nothing but empathy for a restaurant’s waitstaff, sounded a little testy when she had to send her salad
back because the wrong dressing had been poured on it, while Dave, who had initially been amused by her enthusiasm, was annoyed
when his water arrived with a slice of lemon after he had specifically ordered it plain.
“Tell you what, Jenna,” Rosemary said, stepping in to deflect the table’s growing exasperation. “Instead of letting us take
up your time here, why don’t you give us your email address. My husband can send you the names of some Bureau people stationed
in this area, right, darling? I’m sure some of them would enjoy talking to her.”
I almost choked on my shrimp. I know several SBI agents myself, including more than one who would indeed be willing to “instruct”
a pretty young waitress. I glanced at Chelsea Ann, who was giving her sister a glare that I interpreted as “Are you out of
your fricking mind?”
“I guess I could,” Dave said.
“Oh, wow!” said Jenna. “That would be awesome!”
She immediately scribbled her name and contact info on her order pad and gave it to him, then hurried off to fetch the tartar
sauce she had forgotten to bring.
CHAPTER
11
The gravity of a past offense never increases ex post facto.
—Paulus (early AD 3rd century)
C helsea Ann and Rosemary invited me to join them on their hunt for the perfect vestibule table for Chelsea Ann’s new condo,
but by the time I had changed my bathing suit for more conventional lingerie and got down to the front of the hotel where
they were waiting in the car, they were snarling at each other as only siblings can.
The van’s windows were down and their angry words reached me clearly.
“He’s changed,” said Rosemary. “If I’m going to be suspicious every time a little airhead like that wanders by—”
“Give me a break,” Chelsea Ann snapped. “When are you going to realize that men like Dave don’t give a damn about what’s between
a woman’s ears? All they want is what’s between her legs. Can’t you see what’s happening? Getting you to show yourself out
on the balcony this morning? This public reconciliation in front of his peers?”
“You think it’s all about legalities?” Rosemary was indignant. “Condonation? In case we can’t get past this? You don’t think
it could be because he loves me?”
“Sorry to interrupt when y’all are having such a good time,” I said, opening a back door to check the floor and under the
seats, “but you didn’t happen to find an earring, did you?”
“No, when did you lose it?”
“Who knows?” I ran my fingers around the seat cushions. “I didn’t notice it was missing till I got back to the hotel.”
Rosemary twisted around in her seat. “You were only wearing one when we were waiting for that detective to let us go. I thought
maybe it was a new style. But then
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