“Then let's have something from the deli," Katie suggested. "I want that deviled ham sandwich they make."
“Sounds good to me. Find out what Todd wants. We'll do this grocery run tomorrow.”
Jane parked in front of the deli, surprised there weren't more cars around and disappointed that Mike's new truck wasn't among them. Conrad was at the counter. The only other customer was leaving. "I guess Mike isn't around?" Jane asked.
“No, he's making deliveries," Conrad said. "You need him? I could give you the list of addresses and you could try to catch up with him."
“No, I was just wondering. Actually, I need dinner for my family. You've ruined me for cooking.”
Grace Axton came in from the kitchen behind the counter area. "Hi, Jane. I thought that was your voice. What do you need?" Jane told her and Grace said, "Conrad, sit down and rest. I can fix these things without messing anything up.”
Conrad came around the counter and sat down at one of the little tables with Jane. He was limping. "You've hurt yourself?" Jane asked.
“Just a blister on my heel. Do you mind if I take my shoe off?"
“Not in the least. I hardly ever wear shoes unless I leave the house. And then I can never find a pair that matches.”
Conrad took off his shoe, dropped it on the floor, and happily massaged his aching stockinged foot. "That boy of yours is really something, Mrs. Jeffry."
“Please, I'm Jane. Mike is terrific, isn't he?"
“Do you realize he came in early and tidied up the yard and mowed the lawn this morning? Nobody asked him to, he just thought it needed doing. What a kid!"
“And he'd been up all night at the graduation party," Jane bragged. "He's okay."
“I think I'm going to need another driver. I thought most people would come in for things, but the delivery service is, so far, much more popular. There's too much for just him. Grace had to help with the afternoon deliveries. Mike suggested his friend Scott. I guess if Mike says he's responsible, he really is.”
Jane laughed. "Scott looks like a misplaced beach bum, but he is responsible. And the girls adore him. He'll make your delivery service even more popular."
“How you doing, Grace?" Conrad called. "I'm hurrying," she replied. There was a thud and a muffled "Dammit."
“Don't hurry, Grace," Jane said. "I'm not in a rush. If Conrad would give me a glass of iced tea, I wouldn't care if it took an hour.”
Conrad limped off to get them both a glass of tea.
“How's Sarah doing?" Jane said when he returned to the table.
“Oh, fine. Just fine," he said too heartily. "Doctor says she can come home tomorrow. She's just overworked. I'll make sure she takes it easier from now on.”
Jane waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more. "So the business is doing okay? The incident at the opening didn't matter?"
“Incident? Oh, yeah. Made no difference at all. I thought at first that's why so many people were ordering out — because they were afraid to come in — but now I think it's just that they like having their food delivered. Every order has a menu in it, so it's easy to know what we've got without having to see it. In fact, one of the orders Mike's delivering now is for a party. The folks just said to send them a nice casual dinner for six. Didn't even care what it was."
“That's a real credit to you," Jane said.
“I hope so. Hope it keeps on. We thought business would be slower to pick up.”
The door opened and Patsy Mallett came in. Conrad hopped up to run behind the counter and take her order. "Jane, you caught me being a lazy slob," Patsy said, joining her at the little table.
“And you caught me, too," Jane said.
Patsy glanced down and rolled Conrad's shoe over with her toe. "What's this?"
“Conrad's got a blister." Jane lowered her voice to a near whisper. "I'll wait for your order to be ready. I need to talk to you."
“I thought you might," Patsy said, speaking very quietly, too. "I was just at the school making sure everything was taken down and properly stored. I heard about Emma from somebody who lives near her.”
They waited, chatting about the school party. "Did your son enjoy the party?" Patsy asked.
“He loved it. And he came home with aportable CD player for his truck, which thrilled him," Jane said.
When their orders were both ready, Jane followed Patsy to her car, a station wagon even more beat-up and rust-ridden than Jane's. "Did you talk to your detective friend yet?”
— Patsy asked.
“I haven't had a chance. I didn't tell him right away because — I suppose you've heard by now — Stonecipher wasn't killed by that rack falling on him. He died of a heart attack."
“I heard that at the school, too, but wasn't sure it was true. But Emma—?"
“Emma was murdered," Jane said. "She'd asked me to come over and Mel knows that, so I'm sure I'll hear from him as soon as he's free."
“This puts a different spin on Stonecipher's death, doesn't it?" Patsy said, frowning.
“I'm sure it must. The two deaths must be connected somehow."
“I didn't want to be a busybody and gossip about Emma, as you know. But with her dead, I'll be happy to tell the police anything that might help them. I didn't like her, but I didn't want her killed. And whoever did it has to be stopped."
“Patsy, who else was around when you heard the fight between her and Stonecipher?" "Nobody that I know of. It was late in the day and there were no clients waiting to see anyone. In fact, the waiting room was empty. I don't know if the receptionist had already gone home or was just in the copying machine room."
“Could she have overheard from there?”
“Probably."
“And was Tony Belton around?”
Patsy thought for a minute. "I didn't see him. And his office door was closed. He'd probably already left, but I wouldn't swear to it."
“Could he have heard them if he were still there?"
“I imagine so. His office and Robert's share a wall. Why?"
“I don't know. I'm just wondering who else might have heard the dispute. Someone else who had an interest. Who is the receptionist?"
“A little mousy girl named Sandy. She looks about twelve, but she's got three kids, so she must not be."
“Might she have been interested in Stonecipher? I mean romantically interested?"
“Oh, no. I think she thought of him as a well-preserved grandpa type. You know how young women sometimes are with older men — talk to them sort of loud like they might be getting deaf. And even though the office was very first-name basis, she always called him Mr. Stonecipher."
“What about Tony Belton? Somebody men‑ tioned that it was unusual for somebody without kids of their own to be coaching a soccer team, but is he married?"
“I presume he was and he does have kids. At least one. There's a picture of a cute little boy on his desk. I asked about it, and he said it was his son who lived with his mother in Seattle or Portland or someplace in the Northwest."
“ 'His,' meaning the boy's mother, or 'his,' meaning Tony's mother?"
“The boy's mother. Why?"
“I don't know. Just wondered. Say, Patsy, have you ever been at the office when Rhonda was there?”
Patsy gave Jane a sharp look and said warily, "As a matter of fact, I have. Why do you ask?"
“Well, it's just that when Shelley and I went over to her house yesterday, Tony Belton was there and they seemed. ." Jane paused, trying to think of a tactful phrase.
Patsy supplied it. "Chummy?"
“To say the least."
“I thought so, too, the one time I saw them together. But I thought maybe it was just her manner with men. Some women get around anybody male and turn into flirts," Patsy said.
“I don't think she's one of them."