woman. I guessed her to be somewhere beyond her mid-seventies.
'May I help you?' she inquired, looking at me over a pair of rectangular half-size glasses that perched on the very tip of a beakish nose.
'I'm looking for Latty,' I said.
'Is that so?' the woman said in a brisk, businesslike fashion. 'Well, as you can see, she's not here. Is there something I could help you with?'
'I came to talk to her about a friend of hers,' I said.
The woman was barely five foot three, but she puffed herself up and straightened her shoulders so she looked an inch or two taller. She spoke firmly, reminding me of a teacher offering guidance to a recalcitrant schoolboy. 'I already told you. Latty isn't in yet. She won't be until much later this afternoon.'
'Do you have any idea where I could find her between now and then?' I asked, pulling out one of my cards and placing it on the countertop between us. The woman picked up the card. After peering at it for a moment, she shot me a questioning look, then she returned the card to the counter. Bird-boned but nonetheless formidable, she was one of those much-facelifted women-one who wasn't giving in to the aging process without putting up one hell of a fight.
'She'll be in when she's in and not a moment before. I'm Latty's aunt Grace. Her great aunt, really,' she added with a disdainful sniff. 'I'm Latty's grandmother's sister, but let's don't split hairs. I don't go in for all that great stuff. Plain Aunt Grace will do just fine.'
'Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm not making myself sufficiently clear. This isn't a social call. If you have any idea where Latty is at the moment, I must insist that you put me in touch with her. This is a serious matter. I need to ask her a few questions.'
'Such as?'
'As you can see by my card, Mrs. — '
'Miss,' Aunt Grace supplied, placing clear emphasis on the word. 'Highsmith. Miss Grace Highsmith. You see, unlike my sister Florence-Latty's grandmother, that is-I never married.'
The first time I heard Grace Highsmith's name, it seemed oddly familiar somehow, but I dismissed that momentary impression and forged ahead. 'As you can see from my card, Miss Highsmith,' I continued, 'I'm with the Seattle P.D. The Homicide Squad. We're currently investigating the death of an individual who died sometime New Year's Eve. We have reason to believe that your grandniece may have been acquainted with that person.'
'I see,' Miss Highsmith said. Behind me, the bell chimed over the door once more. I turned to see a bent woman, leaning over a metal walker, come tottering into the room.
'Morning, Grace,' the woman said. 'Did my order come in yet?' she asked, peeking sideways in our direction. 'The wedding's this weekend, you know.'
'Yes, Maxine,' Grace Highsmith replied. 'I haven't forgotten. We had a big order come in from UPS this morning, but I'm not sure if your Denby's in there or not. We won't be sorting through the packing slips until Latty comes in later this afternoon. Could we get back to you on this either then or early tomorrow?'
'Either one will be fine,' Maxine answered. 'I came down for a manicure and thought I'd check in with you while I was in the neighborhood.' Turning her walker in a wide circle, she headed back for the door. I hurried over to hold it open for her. 'Why thank you, young man,' she said. 'That's very kind of you.'
When the door closed behind Maxine, I returned to Grace Highsmith. 'Where were we now?' she began somewhat vaguely. 'Oh, that's right. You wanted to talk to Latty. As I said, she isn't in right now, but that doesn't matter. In the long run, I don't believe talking with her will be all that necessary.'
Grace Highsmith wasn't a receptionist, but she had the typical gatekeeper mentality, which is to say, I wasn't to go anywhere near her niece until she was damned good and ready to let me. 'Excuse me, Miss Highsmith, I don't believe you understand-'
'Oh, I understand perfectly.' Unperturbed, she smiled up at me. 'You and I will have a little chat first, Detective Beaumont,' she added pleasantly. 'After that, you can decide whether or not you need to speak to Latty.'
'Miss Highsmith, withholding information in a case like this-'
She waved aside my half-uttered objection. 'Oh, I know all about that,' she said. 'I watch police dramas on television all the time. It's just that there's no reason to upset Latty with any of this. The poor girl's suffered enough already. Excuse me, would you, Detective Beaumont? I'll need to make a phone call and get someone in here to cover the store for the next little while. If you'll just wait here a moment…'
Without pausing to hear any possible objection on my part, Grace Highsmith disappeared behind a curtained doorway into a back room. I was tempted to follow her, but I didn't. That seemed rude. Besides, what could a sweet little old lady do-run out some back door and disappear? She remained out of sight for a matter of several minutes, but I did hear her making a phone call at one point. That was followed by a long period of silence. Just as I was beginning to worry that I'd been duped after all, she reappeared, carrying a purse and a ring of keys.
'Have you had lunch, Detective Beaumont?'
'Breakfast,' I answered. 'Just a little while ago, as a matter of fact, so I'm not very hungry…'
'I had my Cream of Wheat at six o'clock this morning, just as I always do, so I'm really quite hungry. Let's go up the street. I'll have a bite of lunch, and we can talk there.'
'But what about the store?'
'Oh, that,' she said dismissively. 'It'll take our part-time clerk a little while to get here from Redmond, but don't worry about the store. We're rather informal here at times. I'll just turn over the sign. My customers know that someone will be back eventually.'
Occasionally, it's better to go with the flow than to put up an argument. I would have preferred talking somewhere a little more private than a restaurant, but Grace Highsmith seemed so determined to do things her way, that I didn't object. After all, who am I to refuse a little old lady a bite of lunch?
On my way into the store, I had noticed a couple of restaurants in the immediate area. One-a tearoom- looking place-was almost directly across the street, while a Mexican food joint was about a block away. Instead of going into either one of those establishments, however, we walked past both to the next cross street, headed north for half a block, and turned into something that looked like a little cottage. It turned out to be a restaurant-Azalea's Fountain Court.
One look at the white-clothed tables inside told me this was a fine dining establishment rather than a hole- in-the-wall coffee shop. A petite blonde stepped out from behind a grand piano in the foyer and greeted my companion by name.
'Your usual table today, Grace?' she asked.
The older woman frowned. 'No, Shelley, I think we should have a booth today. The far one in the corner if it's available. Someone may be joining us.'
I wondered at that. This had seemed like a spur-of-the-moment arrangement. Who could possibly be joining us?
We were led to a green plush banquette in the far corner of the cozy, plant-lined room. After dropping off menus, the blonde named Shelley disappeared, returning almost immediately with a glass of white wine and an extra place setting. No question. Around this place, Aunt Grace was a regular.
'Shelley,' Grace Highsmith began, observing the niceties, 'this is Detective Beaumont of the Seattle Police Department.' She paused, seemingly for effect, letting the words sink in while she took a delicate sip of wine. 'And this is Shelley Kuni, Detective Beaumont. She's the owner of this fine establishment.'
'I'm happy to meet you,' I said.
Shelley smiled. 'Would you care for a glass of wine as well? This chardonnay is particularly nice.'
'No, thanks. Just coffee for me,' I answered. Shelley hurried off to get it.
The room was fairly small-four or five booths and about that many tables. The service bar with both wine and coffee was in the corner of the room, close enough for the conversation to continue while Shelley poured my coffee.
'Detective Beaumont can't have any wine because he's on duty, you see,' Aunt Grace announced airily. 'He's questioning me about a murder.'
I glanced around the room. Fortunately, it was early enough in the lunch hour that we were the only patrons in the place when Grace Highsmith dropped that little bomb.
'No!' Shelley exclaimed. 'Really?'
