D Is for Deadbeat

which she dumped on a chair. "I thought I heard someone knock. I couldn't see who it was through the screen." She turned the radio off as she passed and then she opened the screen door to admit me.
    "Tony's bringing groceries in from the garage. We just got back from the market. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? The pot's fresh."
    "Yes, please. That's nice." I moved the pile of rags out of the chair and sat down, putting the skirt and shoes on the table in front of me. I saw her eyes stray to them, but she made no comment.
    "Isn't this a school day for him?" I asked.
    "They're giving the sophomores some sort of academic placement tests. He finished early so they let him go. He's got an appointment with his therapist shortly anyway."
    I watched her move about the kitchen, fetching cups and saucers. She had one of those hairstyles that settle into perfect shape with a flick of the head. I butcher my own at six-week intervals with a pair of nail scissors and a two-way mirror, causing salon stylists to pale when they see me. "Who did that to you?" they always ask. I wanted perfect waves like hers, but I didn't think I could achieve the effect.
    Ramona poured two cups of coffee. "There's something I probably should have mentioned before," she said. She took a ceramic pitcher from the cupboard and filled it with milk, realizing then that I was waiting for her to continue. Her smile was thin. "John Daggett called here Monday night, asking to talk to Tony. I took his number, but Ferrin and I decided it wasn't a good idea. It might not matter much at this point, but I thought you should be aware."
    "What made you think of it?"
    She hesitated. "I came across the number on the pad by the phone. I'd forgotten all about it."
    I could feel a tingle at the back of my neck-that clammy feeling you get when your body overloads on sugar. Something was off here, but I wasn't sure what it was.
    "Why bring it up now?" I asked.
    "I thought you were tracking his activities early in the week."
    "I wasn't aware that I'd told you that."
    Her cheeks tinted. "Marilyn Smith called me. She mentioned it."
    "How'd Daggett know where to reach you? When I talked to him on Saturday, he had no idea where Tony was and he certainly didn't have your name or number."
    "I don't know how he got it," she said. "What difference does it make?"
    "How do I know you didn't make a date to meet him Friday night?"
    "Why would I do that?" she said.
    I stared at her. A millisecond later she realized what I was getting at.
    "But I was here Friday night."
    "I haven't heard that verified so far."
    "That's ridiculous! Ask Tony. He knows I was here. You can check it out yourself."
    "I intend to," I said.
    Tony thumped up the wooden porch steps, armed with two more grocery bags, his attention diverted as he groped for the screen door handle, missing twice. "Aunt Ramona, can you give me a hand with this?"
    She crossed to the door and held it open. Tony spotted me and the green skirt at just about the same time and I saw his gaze jump to his aunt's face quizzically. Her expression was neutral, but she busied herself right away, pushing canned goods aside so he could set one bag on the table top. The second bag she took herself and placed on the counter. She sorted through and lifted out a carton of ice cream. "I better get this put away," she murmured. She crossed to the freezer.
    "What are you doing here?" Tony said to me.
    "I was curious how you were feeling. Your aunt mentioned that you had a migraine Monday night."
    "I feel okay."
    "What'd you think about the funeral?"
    "Bunch of freaks," he said.
    "Let's get these unloaded, dear," his aunt said. The two of them began to put groceries away while I sipped my coffee. I couldn't tell if she was deliberately distracting him or not, but that was the effect.
    "You need some help?" I asked.
    "We can manage," she murmured.
    "Who was that lady who went nuts?" Tony asked. Lovella had made a big impression on everyone.
    Ramona held up a soft drink in a big plastic bottle. "Stick this in the refrigerator while you're there," she said.
    She released the bottle an instant before he'd gotten a good grip on it and he had to scramble to catch it before it toppled to the floor. Had she done that deliberately? He was waiting for my reply so I gave him a brief rendition of the tale. It was gossip, in some ways, but he was as animated as I'd seen him and I hoped to keep his attention.
    "I don't mean to interrupt, but Tony does have