but Debra continued to wear the “I’m going to have to talk to Ian before he goes to another bank” look.
Before it wore off, I plunged in. “Speaking of money—”
“I hate it when people start conversations like that.” Glenn waved his spoon around. “Second only to ‘Promise you won’t be mad.’ ”
“Or ‘I forgot to tell you my parents are coming this weekend,’ ” Debra said.
The pair stared across the table at me and I felt my resolve slipping away. It had been a dumb idea, anyway. I didn’t know how to investigate anything, I didn’t know how to get people to talk, and I was a horrible liar. “It’s about Jenna’s hockey team,” I said.
“Jenna plays soccer.” Glenn made a head-butting motion. “Score!”
“And now she plays hockey,” I said. “She was taking lessons all last summer and she’s been playing with the Rynwood Raiders.”
“Real hockey like on ice or field hockey like on grass?” he asked.
Debra gave him a look. “This is Wisconsin. What do you think?”
“Hey, I’m just an insurance agent. How am I supposed to keep up? Kids get older every year.” He stabbed the table with every syllable. “Every year.”
Debra shook her head. “What about Jenna’s team?”
I dunked my tea bag. “I heard Sam Helmstetter was thinking about sponsoring. And now . . . well . . . I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Which was true. What wasn’t quite true was that I’d heard that Sam was thinking about a sponsorship. But since I’d said it, I’d now heard it, and I didn’t have to think of it as a lie. Yes, it still was a lie, but rationalization and I could become close friends.
“Does her team need money?” Debra asked.
“Uniforms, pads, helmets.” Glenn tapped the table with the end of his spoon at every item. “Skates, skate sharpening, tape, pucks, sticks. Ice time. Gas money. Food.”
I could see dollar signs adding up in Debra’s calculator of a brain. Once I’d watched her grab a lunch check, total it up, divide it up three ways, and add a twenty percent tip to each, all the while talking about a new muffin recipe she wanted to try. Later, Marina and I redid the math with a calculator. Debra had been right, down to the penny.
“Hockey isn’t a sport for the poverty-stricken,” Glenn said. “That’s why I never played.”
“You never played because you have the athletic ability of a soap dish,” Debra said.
“I happen to know some very—”
“Who said Sam was thinking about sponsoring?” she asked.
My earlobes started to itch with heat. “Not sure.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Probably just a rumor.”
Not a definitive statement, but it told me that Sam’s company wasn’t making the kind of money needed to fund a hockey team. And if they weren’t making enough for that, they weren’t making enough to make murder worthwhile. Sure, I knew in some places people were killed over a twenty-dollar bill, but not here in Rynwood. I hoped.
The chances that the Helmstetters carried their insurance locally were better than good. I looked at Glenn, who was reaching for another sugar packet. “Do you think it’s worth asking Rachel?”
Clever Beth, to get Sam’s banker and insurance agent at the same table at the same time. Guilt-ridden Beth, for asking them sly questions that would get me the answers I wanted without violating confidentiality issues.
Glenn tore off the top and slowly poured the sugar into the sticky mess that used to be coffee. “I wouldn’t ask Rachel about donations for a few years. Say, twenty.”
So, no nice big insurance policy. Nothing big enough to pay the mortgage, fund two college educations, and keep the kids in iPods. Poor Rachel.
I had one last straw to grasp. “How about Sam’s partner? Do you think he would still be interested in sponsoring the team?”
Glenn shook his head. “I don’t see how.”
And no key person insurance. Not a huge surprise for a start-up company. Not a huge surprise for many small businesses, including mine.
The three of us stared at the table. What I saw in the scratched plastic laminate was a future for Rachel, Blake, and Mia that looked a lot like my nightmares. Cheap rooms above a downtown store. No store. No job. No health insurance. Nowhere to go. I’d end up sitting in front of the television all day, getting even fatter and uglier and—
“I know what you’re getting at,” Glenn said.
“You do?”
“Sure. And I understand. Situations like these can be hard.”
“Um . . . they sure are.” Here I thought I’d been so clever, and Glenn had seen through me from the beginning. I glanced at Debra; she was nodding.
“In my experience,” she said, “it’s even harder for women.”
Glenn laughed. “Hah. Some women find it easier than using speed dial to call Sabatini’s for pizza.”
“The exception that proves the rule.” Debra tossed a sugar packet over to him.
On the outside, I kept a neutral expression on my face. On the inside, I was wondering what on God’s green earth they were talking about.
Debra elbowed Glenn. “Look at the poor girl. She’s afraid to ask, isn’t she?”
“She’s never done it,” Glenn said. “Written all over her face.”
“Beth.” Debra put her elbows on the table and reached out for my hands. “Don’t be scared. We’re your friends.”
“Um . . .”
“Cat must have snuck in when we weren’t looking and stolen her tongue.” Glenn looked under the table. “Here, kitty, kitty. Nope, cat’s gone. We’re going to have to talk for her.”
Maybe they could do my talking the rest of the day. If I was asked a question, I’d step aside and let my newly appointed spokespersons take care of things. No saying anything stupid, no sounding like I didn’t know what I was talking about. When Jenna and Oliver came into teenager-hood I wouldn’t be able to say a single thing right; why not let Debra and Glenn say it for me?
It wasn’t such a bad idea, really. The times I’d said the right thing at the right time were way outnumbered by the times I’d said the wrong thing, so why not—
“Hello?” Glenn snapped his fingers in front of my nose. “Did you hear me? I said I’d be glad to sponsor the Rynwood Raiders.”
“You . . . would?”
“Sure. What’s another ten bucks? Ow! Debra, quit kicking me.”
The two started bickering about how much Glenn should donate. I sat back, trying to decide which reaction was on top. Dismay or amusement? Dismay, because I wasn’t any closer to finding Sam’s killer, or amusement, because I’d found a sponsor without trying.
Debra glared at Glenn. “If you don’t give them enough money to buy new jerseys and keep their skates sharpened all season, I’ll sic the chamber of commerce on you.” She lifted her chin and reverted to the old Debra. “Do I know a potential donor for the summer fireworks? Why, yes, I do. Talk to Glenn Kettunen. He as good as told me he was willing to make a sizeable donation.”
“Aw, Debra, you wouldn’t.”
“Want to try me?” With the eye that Glenn couldn’t see, she winked at me.
Amusement. Definitely.
Which, as I listened to the two of them spar, slid back down to dismay. If Sam’s death wasn’t due to an old grudge and wasn’t due to money, I was fresh out of ideas.
Chapter 13
The classroom echoed around the three of us. Erica looked at the wall clock, at the
