“Of course not. They’re your kids.” But those two vertical lines were still there.
He let me go, watching me shoulder my purse.
“I’ll call you later to find out more about the séance.”
He nodded and walked toward the door. Partway there he turned back. “Violet.”
“Yeah?” I tossed my empty coffee cup in the trash.
“Be careful today.”
I gave him a big, toothpaste commercial smile. “What could go wrong?”
“I don’t know, Killer, but if you see trouble coming, duck this time instead of batting it out the window.”
I snorted. “Executioners don’t duck, they swing.”
Chapter Nine
Bighorn Billy’s was bustling with skiers in for a weekend of racing down Terry Peak on two small, slippery pieces of fiberglass and steel. A handful of snowmobilers were mixed in with the ski crowd, their clothing choices cluing me in on who belonged to which tribe.
From a corner booth in the back of the diner, Jerry rose and waved me over. He was dressed in a dark green blazer that made his shoulders look like he’d been a linebacker in his past rather than a pro basketball player. His height alone drew the eyes of several females in the room, but I was pretty sure his square-cut jaw and Thor-like stature made them look twice.
While George Thorogood sang in his gravelly voice through the corner speakers about a bourbon, a scotch, and a beer, I weaved through tables laden with various breakfast delights toward the jolly blond giant. By the time I’d joined my coworkers, I’d decided on bacon and eggs for my second breakfast. Maybe an English muffin on the side, too.
“Sorry I’m late.” I smiled at Mona and Ben, who were both gaping at me as I took the spot on the bench seat next to Ben.
“You aren’t late.” Jerry slid back into the booth beside Mona. “We haven’t ordered ye …” The crows’ feet fanning from his eyes deepened, along with the lines rippling up his forehead. “Jumping Jehoshaphat! What happened to your face, Violet?”
Oh yeah. I touched my swollen cheek with my cold fingers. I’d forgotten about my black eye during the quick drive to the diner, focusing on Cooper’s imp news and Doc’s suggestion about how to defuse my ex.
“I had a small accident.”
“With whose fist?” Mona asked, peering at me over her reading glasses.
This morning she looked like a 1940s starlet in her V-neck black angora sweater with a matching choker and a pearl drop necklace filling the space in between. Her long auburn hair draped down over her shoulders in soft-looking, relaxed curls—unlike my tense, springy coils. I really needed to hire her to dress me and style my blond rat’s nest every morning, so I looked more like a laid-back golden retriever instead of a rabid poodle.
“It wasn’t a fist.” I laced my fingers together on the table. “It was an elbow.”
“That had to hurt,” Ben said, turning the coffee mug in front of him upright. He smelled as nice and fresh as he looked this morning, with his pale blue wool quarter-zip sweater over a white dress shirt. “Was it one of your kids?”
I thought about lying, but went for the vague truth instead. “No. It was a friend. She was sort of stuck, and I tried to help pull her free, but our feet tangled and she fell on me.”
Jerry reached across the table and took me by the chin as if I were a child, turning my head one way and then the other. “She nailed you hard.” He finished his inspection, leaning back in the booth seat. “Reminds me of some of the black eyes I had when I was still playing ball. You take some licks in the key when you’re crashing the boards.”
Where normal bosses used common idioms when interacting with their employees, Jerry preferred to coach his “team” utilizing sports references, especially those that were basketball-oriented. While softball was my game of choice back in school, I’d dabbled enough in basketball over the years to understand his train of thought most of the time. Natalie and I had also flirted with football in our younger days, but that didn’t really count since it was only the players, not the game itself.
I winced in anticipation of Jerry’s reaction to how this black eye was going to screw up his plans for the big premiere party this coming week. A fancy pink dress wasn’t going to match the purple, green, yellow, and black splotches on the side of my face.
But before anyone had a chance to say anything more about my colorful bruises, the waitress brought coffee over, pouring it into mugs for all but me. The glass of water in front of me was all I needed—no bourbon, scotch, or beer … although I wouldn’t turn down tequila. No coffee either. I’d had enough get-up-and-go help this morning. What I needed was some find-a-lidérc brew, and maybe a shot of catch-a-damned-imp as a chaser.
She scribbled down our orders, winced at my face, and then left us to get on with our meeting.
Jerry cleared his throat. “I called you all here today for two reasons. First, we need to celebrate our upcoming fifteen minutes of fame.” He raised his coffee mug for us to toast, which we did, our smiles not as broad and sparkly as his, but Jerry didn’t seem to notice.
He lowered his cup. “I can’t tell you how excited I am. We’re scoring big with all of our hard work.” His happiness dimmed a notch. “I only wish we weren’t a man down at the moment, but sometimes you have to keep taking it to the boards with or without a full team.”
By “man down,” he was referring to Ben’s uncle, Ray Underhill, who’d been fired in December for conspiring with Doc’s ex to steal a client away from me. While Jerry might have been bemoaning the loss of Ray, who competed
