The Parting Glass (Caitlin Ross Book 4) by Katherine Lampe Page A

beers!” he protested. “But never mind that. Stonefeather was there Saturday night.”
    “So?”
    “He was there! While ye had me at that sodding session, he wasna two blocks away!”
    “I’ll remind you we went to that session to get information. Which we did.” He did not look appeased. “What do you expect me to do, turn back time? It’s beyond my powers, sorry.”
    “If we’d been in the right place instead o’ the wrong one, we would hae had him,” Timber insisted.
    “We had no way of knowing so. Nothing sounds more horrible to me than sacrificing my Saturday night session to poke into every bar on Pearl Street on the off chance of finding a drunk Indian.”
    He raised his eyebrows at me, no doubt shocked at my politically incorrect terminology.
    “You,” Timber loomed over me, blue eyes spitting fire, “are not taking this with the proper level of respect. It’s a game to ye, aye?”
    “What!”
    “Ye wouldna give up your Saturday. You won’t give up today.”
    “You’re right.” I ducked away from him and retrieved my fanny pack from the corner where I had tossed it the previous afternoon. “I won’t. And I’m leaving.”
    He followed me out the door, continued to loom while I locked up, and followed me down the street. His sister’s horrible car was nowhere in evidence; he must have walked. Or run. All the way downtown, hoping to intercept me before I left and convince me to work on a holiday. Ass.
    “He left with a woman. I have her number.” Timber brandished a cocktail napkin over my shoulder. “Name o’ Marilyn.”
    I stopped in my tracks and burst out laughing. “Moon Pie? He left the Sundown with Moon Pie?”
    “Ye ken her?”
    “Not to speak to, but yes.” I started walking again. “She wears all white and hangs out in bars, offering to ‘enlighten’ various gentlemen.”
    “I see.” Timber’s voice rose with interest as he got my meaning.
    “I wouldn’t have expected her to frequent the Sundown, though. Her usual habitat is…tonier.”
    “I suppose Stonefeather might have felt in need of…ah… ‘enlightenment.’” Timber mused. “It can be a comfort in the dark.” 
    “Indeed.” I crossed Eighth Street, large Scotsman hard on my heels.
    “But d’ye no see why we need to follow this up right away? If he left with this Marilyn on Saturday, and she being what ye say…”
    “What, you want the details?”
    “No, but she might know something to the purpose.”
    “Why would she?” I sped up. “Call her yourself, then! I’m sure she’d be happy to ‘enlighten’ you.”
    To my surprise, he chuckled. “Aye, she might. But my budget doesna run to much of that kind of ‘enlightenment.’ Besides,” The amusement left his tone. In fact, he sounded bitter. “I leave the working girls alone. I’ll never go with a woman who hasn’t a choice. I’ve seen too much.”
    I thought about that as we continued down Spruce Street. Not that I found the revelation odd. Timber was an extremely attractive man; he’d have no trouble with women and no need to pay for sex. Of course, some men found paying for sex arousing. It didn’t seem he was one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Besides, with the little trick he had of being charming at will… But then, he’d no doubt consider that the same as leaving a woman no choice. Come to think of it, he’d never turned his peculiar talent on me. And he could have. He could have saved himself a lot of argument and got me to do anything he wanted. Maybe.
    “So,” he said at last. “You’re determined to keep to your plans.”
    “Yes.”
    “What about after?”
    “It’s still a holiday.”
    We walked another block in silence. I wondered when he would get the message, and go away and leave me alone.
    “Why d’ye call her Moon Pie?” he asked abruptly.
    “Marilyn? Because she floats around in those white clothes, with lots of dangly crystal jewelry, and spouts off heaps of New Age nonsense.”
    “I expect