The Devil's in the Details by Mary Jane Maffini Page B

reservations were usually first names and phone numbers. Good. I needed an opportunity to write down everyone who’d reserved for that time period. Without getting permission or getting caught. Iwas digging for my pen when Chelsea walked toward the desk. She nodded to me and said, “I’ll be right with you.” She led the newcomers to a table, handed out menus with a flourish and returned before I found my pen.
    â€œHi. I’m Chelsea. I understand you want to speak to me?” she said. Up close, she looked older and wiser than her foxy grin and spiky hair suggested.
    I tried a new approach. “I’m looking for a friend. It’s a matter of life and death.” True enough, if somewhat misleading. “I saw her having lunch with another woman, sometime in late July. They sat there.” I pointed. “My friend is medium-tall, a little bit plump, dark auburn hair, mid-forties, attractive but not stunning. She was wearing a linen suit, professional looking.” I stopped. “She came here quite often.”
    â€œHmmm,” she said. “I remember meals, not faces or clothes.”
    â€œI don’t know what she ate. She had an alligator handbag, if that helps.”
    She gave a short bark of laughter. “It doesn’t. And to tell you the truth, I don’t even remember meals that long after I’ve served them. Well, sometimes I remember faces, but I’d have to see her. You don’t have a photo?”
    â€œThat’s part of the problem. There’s not a picture anywhere of her. She was diabetic, though. Maybe she needed special meals. Does that ring a bell?”
    â€œJasmine might know. She’s got a knack for remembering people. She often works that corner. And people are always telling her about their diets and their problems. She’s your best bet.”
    â€œCan I talk to Jasmine?”
    â€œShe’s not on shift right now.”
    â€œWhen will she be here?”
    â€œNot sure. She works a couple of jobs. She’s putting herself through university. Hang on, I’ll check the schedule. It might take a couple of minutes, we’re really frantic, as you can see.”
    â€œI’ll wait.”
    â€œYou having lunch?”
    â€œYes, I’d like that table.” I pointed to the window where I’d last seen Laura lunching.
    â€œSure. That’s one of mine today.”
    I sat down at the table with relief, because I was feeling a bit woozy. It crossed my mind that I hadn’t eaten for a long time, despite my sisters’ best efforts. I loved the Maisie’s Eatery menu.
    â€œI’ll order too,” I said. “Something with chicken. Pick the best one. And a cappuccino for dessert.”
    â€œYou want soup or salad?”
    â€œSure. Surprise me there, too.”
    I waited and watched Chelsea whirl from table to table. I used the time to try to remember what Laura’s companions had looked like. Being in the same spot helped. One had dark hair, I knew that much, pulled back in a sleek ponytail. I wondered if she might have been Sylvie after eighteen years. I didn’t think so. The eyes had been too dark, the cheekbones too prominent. But then I wasn’t sure how accurate my impression had been.
    Fifteen minutes later, I had my lunch, hot and sour soup, followed by chicken with coconut and fruit.
    My cappuccino arrived with a bonus. Chelsea said somewhat breathlessly, “You’re in luck. Jasmine’s in at five-thirty. That’s not a bad time to talk. The restaurant doesn’t get overwhelming until later. You won’t have much luck if you come when we’re full. The owner’s here and, well, you’ll see.”
    I could see my day going even further down the toilet.“Could you give me Jasmine’s address? That would save me a lot of time.” I tried to smile harmlessly, but she wasn’t buying it.
    â€œNo chance. I’m pushing our policy by giving