Dead Giveaway

had it before, but Kate swears by the stuff—not that I'd ever tell her I'd voluntarily ventured to the fringe of her organic, all-natural, soyfilled world. I needed caffeine if I planned to have a coherent conversation with anyone, and the girl at the window said the tea worked as well as a tall latte.

Will's parents lived in an older, redbrick house on a wooded street in Bellaire, a city that blended with Houston on the southwest side near the Galleria shopping mall. Since it was Saturday morning, a few joggers manned the sidewalks, but most of Bellaire was still waking up. The air was thick with humidity after last night's rain, despite the early morning hour. So much for my refreshing shower. My skin felt sticky when I pressed the doorbell at the Knight home, and I wished I'd worn shorts and a tank top rather than jeans and a stretchy green shirt. This spandex fashion fixation was not created with Houston weather in mind.

Mrs. Knight answered the door, and the cheery face I recalled from the last time we'd met was darkened by concern. 'Good morning, Ms. Rose. Will told us you were coming.' She widened the door for me to enter.

'Like I said the other day, please call me Abby,' I said.

'Sorry. I forgot. We're having breakfast and I made plenty. Can I fix you a plate?'

'Uh, sure. Sounds good.' Hungry or not, I knew better than to refuse a meal. I didn't know Will's mom well enough yet to determine how hardcore Texan she was.

She led me through a home eerily similar to my own with its small foyer and living area, but an overstuffed sectional sofa and a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace offered the homey touch that my place lacked. I definitely needed a house makeover.

The kitchen was larger than mine and obviously the center of family life. An additional fireplace with a love seat in front filled one corner. A curving breakfast bar separated the kitchen area from an alcove with built-in seating bordering the bay window. Will was sitting on the farthest edge of the cushioned bench so that his legs could stretch out unhindered by the pedestal base. His sandy-haired father sat across from him with the metro section of the Houston Chronicle spread out on the table. Probably reading about last night's murder.

'Sam, fetch Abby a chair from the dining room, would you?' Annabelle Knight said.

Sam Knight stood and smiled, as did his son. Weird seeing them together. Mr. Knight couldn't be more than two inches taller than me, which put him at about five-six or -seven. Then there was monster Will. He was so muscular and tall, he could have picked up his dad under one arm and his little bit of a mom under the other and jogged a couple miles.

'Morning, ma'am,' Mr. Knight said before leaving to get the chair.

'Hey, Abby,' Will said, his voice sleepy, his lids heavy with fatigue, though not heavy enough to mask his pale amber eyes. Bet the UT girls liked having this guy on campus.

'William Knight, is that how you address a young woman?' his mother said.

'I told him to call me Abby, so it's fine,' I said quickly.

'Then it's 'Good morning, Abby.' Not 'hey.' ' But she smiled a loving smile in her son's direction when he offered his sheepish 'Yes, ma'am' reply.

Mr. Knight arrived with a maple dining chair and placed it facing the window and next to Will.

'Thanks,' I said.

'My pleasure.' Mr. Knight sat back down. I saw that his scrambled eggs and sausage were untouched, and the paper did indeed have a headline atop the metro section that blared WOMAN FOUND MURDERED BEHIND ESPRESSO BAR.

Mr. Knight tapped the paper. 'Terrible thing. When he was in high school, Will and I used to catch college hoops on cable at a sports bar right near this place.'

So that's why Verna Mae chose the Last Drop for our meeting. She'd probably been there watching for a glimpse of Will more than once, if I had her figured right.

'Abby,' Mr. Wright went on, 'do you know anything more than what the newspaper says? The policeman who called last night mentioned you were at the scene.'

'I was. Verna Mae phoned me to meet her, but unfortunately I never found out what she wanted to talk about,' I said.

Mrs. Knight moved a plate with eggs, toast and two sausage patties in front of me. 'This is awful. That poor woman.'

Her husband slid over so she could sit beside him.

Mrs. Knight said, 'Will and several of his old high school friends were watching the NBA play-off game when the officer called. I have to say, I was a little upset when the sergeant asked if Will had been out during the early evening. He hadn't, of course. He'd been looking forward to this get-together with his friends all week.' The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Knight squeezed her eyes shut. 'It's those awful reporters. I know it.'

'Let me handle this,' Mr. Knight said.

Will's mother let her husband out. As he jogged from the kitchen, his small potbelly jiggling under his warmup jacket, she called, 'Tell them to leave us alone.'

'Mom, chill, okay?' Will said. 'They're just doing their job.'

'Tough living with a celebrity, huh?' I said.

'The reporters don't bother me all that much,' Will said. 'Since we didn't win the Big Dance, they've pretty much left me alone.'

'Big Dance?' I said.

'The NCAA tournament,' Will answered.

Mrs. Knight said, 'Didn't win it this year. Will's heading for UT for basketball camp in a couple days. He'll do weight training and meet with a nutritionist, so he'll be a force to reckon with on the court. Then they'll go all the way next season.'

'Mom, we're a team. It's not only about me,' said Will.

Mr. Wright returned, but not with a reporter on his heels. It was Jeff.

My chair made an awful scraping sound when I pushed away from the table and stood.

'Uh, hi,' I said.

Jeff looked me square in the eyes for what seemed like a long time but was probably no more than a second.

'I got an invite for breakfast,' I said.

'I see.' His expression told me he was sure they hadn't called me on a whim at this hour. He looked back and forth between Will's parents. 'Just wanted to meet you folks face-to-face and apologize for upsetting you last night.'

'You're Sergeant Kline? The one who phoned?' asked Mrs. Knight.

'Yes, ma'am.' His tie was loosened, his sports jacket wrinkled, and he looked so damn tired I felt guilty for my four hours of sleep.

'You have nothing to apologize for,' she said. 'You didn't murder that poor woman. God knows, I've been praying for her soul. If not for her, Will might never have come into our lives.' Her eyes filled with tears.

'Mom,' Will said. 'I was supposed to end up with you no matter what.'

She smiled sadly and nodded.

Jeff reached out a hand to Will. 'Jeff Kline.'

I noted that despite his exhaustion Jeff had enough energy for a huge smile and a vigorous handshake. Plus he'd introduced himself with his first name. Hmmm. I think the man is smitten.

'Fantastic last game in March despite the loss,' Jeff said.

Oh, yes. This was a love story in the making.

'Thanks, but we've got an awesome point guard. 'Course you know that.'

'You had thirty-four points, right?' Jeff went on. 'And how many blocked shots?'

I cleared my throat. 'Um, my breakfast is getting cold.'

Mrs. Knight held out another loaded plate for Jeff, and Mr. Knight had snuck off for an additional chair.

We crowded around the table and ate and talked about basketball. It was sort of like the first day of my immersion Spanish class at the University of Houston, the one I dropped after a week. I didn't understand a word of what Jeff and the Knights were saying. I only knew they all spoke the language but me.

When we were through eating and Mrs. Knight refused my offer to help her clean up the dishes, Jeff addressed Will and his dad. 'As you probably know, Ms. Rose identified Verna Mae Olsen's body last night. I