Page 14

Strike when the iron is hot—or interview your suspects early, since people’s memories fade with time.

M onday morning, Meg was still kicking herself for missing out on talking to Cissy. So after she’d finished up Lilly’s assignment, she texted Jolene. The text back told her to bring it by tomorrow morning and she’d get another assignment. Then a second text said, Thank you.

Jolene wasn’t the most personable in face-to-face conversations. Her texts were even more blunt. And Mom thought Meg was direct.

Meg wrote a note on her new weekly calendar that she’d ordered online last week.

She could see her entire week at a glance and had room for a running to-do list. She added her bookstore work schedule, and on Tuesday, she added, Drop off Aster’s work .

Then she wrote, Meet up with Dalton , at the bottom of the Tuesday square.

It wasn’t a date. She wrote Mom with a question mark on Sunday’s morning square.

Feeling guilty, she added, Call Dad, to her to-do list. Making time to see her parents was important, even if Dad wasn’t home anymore. And as a bonus, if she called, she didn’t have to see Elaine.

She looked at the date. If Romain had kept to their honeymoon schedule, he and Rachel would be back next Friday. He’d probably call as soon as he visited the apartment to get his things. “Why are these presents still here? Why didn’t you take care of them?” She mimicked his mad voice.

Watson woke up from his second nap of the day and looked around, his eyes wild.

“Sorry, dude. That was me being funny.” She slapped her hand.

Watson had never warmed up to Romain. A sign she should have taken seriously.

Dogs knew who was a good person and who wasn’t.

Watson loved Junior, Dalton, Uncle Troy, and Dad.

Which was a point in her father’s favor.

And proved that Romain’s explanation of the dog not liking men was wrong.

Oh, so many signals she’d ignored.

Never again.

She finished her to-do list, adding a column for things she needed at the store so she wouldn’t have to make a quick list and forget something, like she had on Saturday. She added, A facial scrub , on the first line, with the brand name. Then she went to her fridge to see what she had to eat.

She had the pasta she’d made sometime last week and leftover Chinese from Saturday.

Maybe? She needed to write what she planned to eat and when, especially when she brought home food.

She put the pasta in the freezer and then wrote that down in the Thursday square for a quick late lunch.

Then she warmed up the Chinese. Romain didn’t like leftovers, so if she hadn’t eaten them for lunch the next day, they had got thrown away.

She slapped her hand again as she got a soda out of the fridge.

She needed to stop comparing her new life to her old one.

It wasn’t that she missed Romain. She didn’t.

She missed the life she’d imagined. The one that would never have happened, but she would have convinced herself that everything was okay even when it wasn’t.

This was her life now. And she liked it.

Watson whined.

“It’s true.” She stood and clicked a leash on him to take him outside. “I like this new life. I need to make sure I get to keep it.”

Her phone rang as soon as they got back upstairs.

“Get down here now,” Natasha whispered.

“The bakery? Why? I heated some lunch.” Meg took the hot bowl out of the microwave. The honey shrimp smelled as good as it had Saturday night.

“She’s here. The ex’s girlfriend. Which means he’s coming back soon. They always have a coffee and share a treat when he gets back. Probably so they don’t wait at the terminal.” She said something to a customer. “Get down here.”

Looking longingly at the food, Meg covered it with aluminum foil and put it away in the fridge.

Maybe this was why you never read about Nancy Drew eating dinner.

Unless she was grilling with her father.

Or celebrating that they’d figured out the mystery.

Investigating was too involved for her to eat.

Maybe that was why she stayed so skinny in the drawings.

Meg wondered why she didn’t pass out at a crime scene from low blood sugar.

“Come on, Watson. We might as well get your walk in for the day, as well.” She clicked the leash back on her dog, who looked longingly at the couch. “We all want something we can’t have.”

He looked a little confused and tried to head toward the couch. It must be time for nap number three.

“Sorry, buddy. Natasha wants us to visit.” She grabbed his walking bag, with necessities like poop bags, treats, food, and several collapsible bowls, and then took a full water bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge.

She reused bottles and rotated them until they looked like they were going to break.

Romain, or he who must not be named, had griped about her putting them in the fridge.

He’d been using them for a while when Meg had asked him where Watson’s bottles were so she could refill them.

He’d been appalled that he’d been drinking tap water meant for the dog during his runs.

She’d thought it was funny. After that, she’d kept the bottles for Watson on the bottom rack of the fridge.

And the other guy—Meg kind of liked that euphemism better—had switched to a more expensive water with minerals for runners.

And had kept count of the bottles. Meg had watched him write the date on the bottles when he put them in the fridge.

He’d wanted her to take over the task, but she’d never got around to it.

Another one of her many faults, according to him.

When she got to the bakery, Natasha handed her a cup of coffee and a scone. “Does your dog want water?”

Meg blinked, then realized Natasha was trying to act like Meg was a random customer. “That would be great. No ice and I have a bowl.”

She waited for Natasha to pour water into a glass; then she went over and sat in the woman’s line of sight. She poured the water into the bowl. The woman was leaning in, watching. Meg’s plan had worked. Everyone wanted to chat about dogs.

“What kind of dog is that?”

“Watson’s a cocker spaniel. I think he’s a purebred, but I got him as a rescue. I’m not sure.” Meg reached out her hand. “Oh, and I’m Meg. I’m always giving people the whole story on my dog but never even my name.”

The woman laughed as she shook Meg’s hand. “I know the feeling. I know every dog on my block, but I have no idea what their humans’ names are. I’m Tabitha.”

“What are you doing on Bainbridge today? Touristing?” Meg focused on watching Watson drink, hoping the question would sound conversational.

“My fiancé has some business with his ex-wife. I swear, some relationships never end. Do you know what I mean?” Tabitha reached out and rubbed Watson’s ears as he sniffed her hand.

“Gah, I hope that’s not true. I only recently got out of a bad relationship.

I’m wishing that I’ll never see that loser again.

” Meg leaned back, sipping her coffee. “I guess visiting Bainbridge Island isn’t a bad way to spend a Monday morning.

I work at my mom’s bookstore part-time. I need a real job, but I’ve been trying to find myself after the breakup.

I can’t believe there’s so much to do. Moving out was step one. My list keeps growing.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ve had my share of heartbreaks, so I know when someone is on the other side of the hill.

Josh is sensitive, but it’s obvious he doesn’t love the woman anymore.

He still cares about her, though, and she’s going through a bad time.

” Tabitha leaned closer. “Since you live here, I suppose you’ve heard about the man who died?

It was Josh’s ex-wife’s manager or something.

He handled her money. Josh said that the guy was a real jerk, but Lilly couldn’t see that.

She thought everyone was fighting their own battles. Such a stupid motto, right?”

Meg nodded, trying not to stand up for Lilly. She was in sleuthing mode, not author’s assistant mode. “I heard about that. He went swimming or fell off a dock or something.”

“He drowned, but he also had been hit on the head. Josh thinks someone killed him and set up Lilly to take the fall. Now, I don’t like the woman, mostly because Josh is always more worried about her than our future, but that’s horrible.

I hope the police find out who did this soon.

We’re supposed to go to Cancún in July for a week.

If this is still going on . . . Well, I guess I shouldn’t complain, right? At least we’re alive.”

“What does Josh do?” Meg broke open the scone. “You guys have a lot of free time, being here on a Monday. Maybe his company has a job for me?”

Tabitha laughed and sipped her coffee. “I am a bit of a lady of leisure these days. I’m an actress, and I’m waiting on the next assignment.

My agent is negotiating a part in a series for me.

It’s going to be on Netflix. Josh, he’s a writer.

He’s working on his next book. Lilly broke out before he did, but he gets a nice alimony check.

I saw his last contract. Writers don’t get paid as much as you would imagine, working at a bookstore. ”

Her phone beeped. “Oh, I got a text. I’m meeting him at the terminal. I guess I better get going. Thank you for sharing Watson with me. He’s a lovely dog.”

“Oh, no problem. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon.” I took out my phone and pretended to scroll through my social media accounts, but as soon as she walked out, I snapped several pictures of Tabitha.

Natasha came over with a cup of coffee and another scone. “What do you think? Could this Josh be the one who set up Lilly?”

“How much did you hear?” Meg was still watching Tabitha as she made her way down the street to the ferry walk-on bridge.