The nub that was Jasper’s tail wiggled furiously. Jane knelt beside the dog and ruffled his ears. “I can’t even imagine what it was like for you living with Our Gloomy Friend,” she said as Jasper licked her hand. “You poor thing.”
Five minutes later she had brushed her hair, found her shoes, and located the car keys. Fifteen minutes after that she was pulling into a parking spot outside Sunnyside Up. Being a Saturday, the popular breakfast place was already busy. Jane went in and searched the tables of customers for Jessica. She wasn’t there.
Jane looked at her watch. It was 8:31. She could easily imagine Jessica leaving precisely one second after 8:30, just so she could tell Jane she’d waited for her but given up when Jane was late. It would be just one more strike against Jane.
She decided to wait outside. The inside of the restaurant smelled like bacon and old coffee, and it was upsetting her stomach. Jane suspected she might need to feed soon. Often when her body needed blood she found herself more sensitive than usual to odors. Now, for instance, she could easily make out the scent of half-cooked yolk as someone broke open a lightly fried egg. It mingled with the smells of syrup and hash browns, making her feel queasy.
It was better outside, although there she had to contend with two elderly men who, forbidden to smoke inside, had brought their coffee outdoors and were now seated on a bench puffing defiantly on their cigarettes. The smell filled Jane’s nostrils and made her gag.
“You know, you’re not supposed to smoke here either,” she said testily.
One of the old men waved her away. “I’ve been smoking since before you were born, missy,” he said. “Hasn’t hurt me any.”
Jane fixed him with a stare. “That’s a matter of opinion,” she said. “And just so you know, I’ve been dealing with nasty old men since before your great-great-great-great-grandfathers were born. Now put those out before I get cranky.”
The men looked at her for a moment, then stubbed out their cigarettes and hurried back into the restaurant, where no doubt their wives were enjoying being able to have a conversation without their husbands interrupting with talk of sports and lawn mowers. Jane felt only the slightest bit of remorse for having scolded the old fellows, but she didn’t miss their cigarettes at all. Nor did she feel so much guilt that she was prevented from taking a seat on the bench they’d vacated.
She had been sitting there for approximately fifteen minutes (which she thought was the shortest amount of time good manners required she wait for Jessica) and was about to return home when Sherman Applebaum appeared. As always, he was dressed impeccably, this morning in a brown suit of summer-weight wool complete with waistcoat, a crisp white shirt, a silk tie in a subtle pattern of tiny orange and gold flowers against a pink background, and a smart brown herringbone ivy cap.
“Don’t you look dapper this morning,” Jane said.
“Ah,” Sherman said, sounding genuinely delighted to see her. “There you are.” He took a seat next to her on the bench. “It’s going to be a lovely day,” he said.
“It certainly looks that way,” said Jane. “And where are you on your way to or from? Church?”
Sherman looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “My dear, you know me better than that,” he said. “God and I have an understanding. I don’t bother him and he doesn’t bother me. I dare say that might change one of these days, but I don’t intend to be the one who blinks first.”
Jane laughed. “If anyone can win that contest, it’s you,” she said.
“Indeed,” said Sherman. “Also, I should point out that this is Saturday. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Of course it is,” Jane said. “I’ve been so busy, what with the film and the new book, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Which reminds me, I owe you an apology. I haven’t spoken to Julia Baxter about that interview yet. I just haven’t had a chance.”
“No worries about that,” said Sherman. “At the moment I’m more interested in the young woman they found floating lifeless in the dunk tank at the festival.”
“What?” Jane said. “Who?”
“One Jessica Abernathy,” said Sherman. “I believe you’ve made her acquaintance.”
Jane felt her jaw drop. “Jessica Abernathy?” she said. “She’s dead?”
“Very much so,” said Sherman. “Although one has to wonder how she could have drowned in water no deeper than her shoulders. It seems to me she might have saved herself a great deal of difficulty by simply standing up. Of course, someone might have held her down. I wouldn’t know.”
Jane was still processing Sherman’s news and wasn’t paying attention to his chatter. “You’re absolutely sure it’s Jessica Abernathy?” she said.
Sherman nodded. “Officer Pete Bear told me himself not twenty minutes ago. He’s the one who fished her out.”
“And you’re absolutely sure she’s dead?” said Jane.
“Well, I’m not a physician,” Sherman replied. “But Officer Bear was kind enough to let me have a peek at her, and she certainly looked dead to me. Quite blue around the face. Not at all pleasant to look at. Also, and I hope you’ll forgive me for mentioning this, given your attachment to Walter, but I distinctly remember that Evelyn Fletcher looked very much the same when she was pulled from the lake.”
At the mention of Walter’s deceased wife Jane felt a pang of sadness. Evelyn had drowned during a Fourth of July picnic a little more than fifteen years earlier. Jane of course had never met her, having lived in Brakeston for only a decade, but when Walter spoke about her (which he did very rarely) it was with such affection that Jane was sure she would have liked her very much. It was an odd thing to feel for a woman some might consider a rival for Walter’s love, but Jane had never thought of Evelyn in that way. She was simply a part of Walter’s history.
“It was rude of me to bring up the past,” said Sherman. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Oh,” Jane said, realizing that to Sherman she must appear to be in a daze. “It’s not that. It’s just that, well, I’m actually waiting for Jessica. We were supposed to have breakfast and talk about my book. She’s my—was my—editor.”
“So I understand,” said Sherman. “Do you have any idea who might want to do her harm?”
“Only anyone who’s met her,” Jane said before she could stop herself. She blushed. “That was a terrible thing to say.”
“It was,” Sherman agreed. “Which is why you must say even more. She sounds like an absolute terror.”
Jane glanced at Sherman, who she could tell was working very hard not smile. “One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” she told him with mock reproach.
“Who better to speak ill of?” he replied. “They’re not around to hear you!”
Jane bit her lip. Part of her was thrilled to hear that Jessica was no longer going to be a problem. But she also had to wonder who might have killed her, and why.
“I hesitate to say so,” she told Sherman. “But the only person I can think of who would want her dead is I.”
“How thrilling,” Sherman said. “It isn’t often I get to sit beside a murderess. It will make a wonderful chapter for my memoirs.” He patted Jane’s knee. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe you have it in you.”
You have no idea, Jane thought, although she appreciated the sentiment. “I wonder how long it will take for the news to spread,” she said.
“That is also an intriguing subject,” Sherman answered. “It seems the police are going to hold off on making an announcement until Monday.”
“Monday?” Jane said. “Why?”
“They don’t want to interrupt the delightful festival that has taken over our fair town,” said Sherman. “It’s bringing some much-needed capital to our coffers, and they fear news of a possible murder might spark needless concern among the more sensitive among us.”