Dave shrugged. “Well, yeah. I was a DA before I ran for judge and I worked with several agents who are still there.”
“Wow! That’s so cool. I wouldn’t have to work undercover, would I? Like, I think I’d be too scared for that, but surveillance or profiling—that could be awesome! Is that what the guys you worked with did?”
Given the least bit of encouragement, I had the feeling that she was ready to sit at Dave’s feet and soak up stories of SBI and DA derring-do, but Chelsea Ann interrupted to place her order for fried oysters. I wanted steamed shrimp and the others opted for seafood of one variety or another as well.
Keeping six orders straight seemed to try young Jenna’s abilities. Either that or she was so interested in chatting with Dave about the SBI each time she arrived at our table that she couldn’t match a single plate with the person who’d ordered it. Even Martha, who has nothing but empathy for a restaurant’s waitstaff, sounded a little testy when she had to send her salad back because the wrong dressing had been poured on it, while Dave, who had initially been amused by her enthusiasm, was annoyed when his water arrived with a slice of lemon after he had specifically ordered it plain.
“Tell you what, Jenna,” Rosemary said, stepping in to deflect the table’s growing exasperation. “Instead of letting us take up your time here, why don’t you give us your email address. My husband can send you the names of some Bureau people stationed in this area, right, darling? I’m sure some of them would enjoy talking to her.”
I almost choked on my shrimp. I know several SBI agents myself, including more than one who would indeed be willing to “instruct” a pretty young waitress. I glanced at Chelsea Ann, who was giving her sister a glare that I interpreted as “Are you out of your fricking mind?”
“I guess I could,” Dave said.
“Oh, wow!” said Jenna. “That would be awesome!”
She immediately scribbled her name and contact info on her order pad and gave it to him, then hurried off to fetch the tartar sauce she had forgotten to bring.
CHAPTER
11
Chelsea Ann and Rosemary invited me to join them on their hunt for the perfect vestibule table for Chelsea Ann’s new condo, but by the time I had changed my bathing suit for more conventional lingerie and got down to the front of the hotel where they were waiting in the car, they were snarling at each other as only siblings can.
The van’s windows were down and their angry words reached me clearly.
“He’s changed,” said Rosemary. “If I’m going to be suspicious every time a little airhead like that wanders by —”
“Give me a break,” Chelsea Ann snapped. “When are you going to realize that men like Dave don’t give a damn about what’s between a woman’s ears? All they want is what’s between her legs. Can’t you see what’s happening? Getting you to show yourself out on the balcony this morning? This public reconciliation in front of his peers?”
“You think it’s all about legalities?” Rosemary was indignant. “Condonation? In case we can’t get past this? You don’t think it could be because he loves me?”
“Sorry to interrupt when y’all are having such a good time,” I said, opening a back door to check the floor and under the seats, “but you didn’t happen to find an earring, did you?”
“No, when did you lose it?”
“Who knows?” I ran my fingers around the seat cushions. “I didn’t notice it was missing till I got back to the hotel.”
Rosemary twisted around in her seat. “You were only wearing one when we were waiting for that detective to let us go. I thought maybe it was a new style. But then I’m only a naive little housewife, so what could I possibly know?”
Heavy sighs from Chelsea Ann.
Much as I love my job when I’m wearing a black robe and have a gavel in my hand, I was in no mood to spend an afternoon arbitrating between two sisters who probably had issues going back to childhood—which one was more indulged by their mother or better loved by their father, or who got spanked for something the other one did.
I closed the door and stepped back to speak through the window. “Sorry, guys, but I’m really not interested in looking at furniture. Dwight and Cal are probably going to come back from Virginia with a truckload of it, so y’all go on without me. I’ll just run over to Jonah’s and see if someone’s turned in my earring.”
Both insisted that it wouldn’t be that much out of their way to swing past the restaurant, but I stood firm.
As they drove off, I heard Rosemary say, “Anyhow, just because
Jonah’s was having its after-lunch lull. A few people lingered with coffee or drinks under umbrellas out on the porch, but most of the indoor tables were empty. A couple of hardy souls at the bar were getting an early start on the evening.
Kyle-the-aspiring-actor clearly did not remember me from the night before, and he was only perfunctorily sorry to say he had not found an earring. “I think someone turned in a lipstick, though. You could ask Hank.”
Hank-the-aspiring-hotel-manager was more accommodating if a little distracted. “Sorry,” he said, as he took out a small box from under the reception stand, “but it’s been crazy here today. The police only left a few minutes ago. A red-and-white earring? From last night?”
I nodded and he paused from rummaging through a box of items that ranged from earrings (none of them red and white) to sunglasses (prescription and drugstore knockoffs) and cigarette lighters (smoking is still allowed
