Death on a Deadline

Truthfully, Alex’s desertion was the one that had shaken the foundation of my world. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. Hard enough to admit it to myself.
    “And anyway, your parents needed to move close to your granddad—remember how sick he was? I’m sure they would have stayed here if I was still competing, but I think it may have been a relief when they were able to leave.”
    Alex laid the menu on the table. “I guess they didn’t have much of a choice, but I never quit thinking of Lake View as home. Most of all I missed—”
    “Can I get y’all something to drink?” Debbie pushed back her frosted hair with one hand and offered Alex a dazzling smile.
    We agreed to try the new peach tea, and she sashayed back to the kitchen with enough twist in her step to draw almost every male eye in the place. But the man across the table kept his gaze on me. That was a good sign. Now how to nudge him back to where he was before Debbie showed up? What had he missed? The small-town atmosphere? The diner’s homemade pecan pie?
    “So, water girl. What’s been happening in your life? Besides the obvious?”
    Unfortunate fact number one: Once a conversation has been interrupted, there’s no going back.
    “Not much. I guess you probably know I gave up teaching a few years ago and came back home. I’ve been working at the health club ever since.”
    “I heard Bob was supposed to have sold you the place by now.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did. No such thing as personal business in this town, is there?” I wondered what he’d heard about why I quit teaching.
    “Not last time I checked. Must make John’s job easier, though. He shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone willing to tell him who killed Hank and why.”
    Just as Alex spoke, Debbie waltzed up and plunked two tall glasses of iced peach tea down on the table. “That man sure knew how to rile people up.”
    I looked up at her with interest. “Hank?”
    “Um-hum. Half of his lunch meetings ended with yelling.” She lowered her voice. “Seeing as how the newspaper is right around the corner, he was a regular.”
    Alex nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
    Startled, I choked on my tea. He shrugged and gave an imperceptible shake of his head, like What was I supposed to say?
    “Who did he shout with mostly?” I said when I’d gotten my breath back. Alex might not recognize that Debbie wanted to tell what she knew, but I sure did.
    “Now that you mention it, the last person I remember him being in here with was Brendan Stiles.” She leaned toward us. “You know that new pharmacist over at Lake View Drugstore.”
    Apparently the fact that I’d dated said pharmacist hadn’t been newsworthy enough to merit a swing on the gossip grapevine. “Yes, I know who you mean.” Was it my imagination or was Alex narrowing his eyes at me? I turned back toward Debbie. “What were they talking about?”
    “I don’t know.” She shot a glance toward the counter where someone’s ham and cheese sitting under the heat lamp was growing staler by the minute. “Maybe Marge.”
    “What about Marge?” The gentle tap on my leg wasn’t my imagination. Alex kicked me under the table.
    “Well, I heard Hank say, ‘My wife,’ and then something about ‘a bag.’ I thought maybe Brendan was insulting Marge. But that’s all I heard.”
    “You must hear a lot, Debbie,” I said and sipped my tea.
    “More than you’d believe.”
    “I think I’ll have the turkey and dressing,” Alex said.
    I returned his kick.
    Debbie frowned, then slapped her forehead. “Of course. What was I thinking, standing here gabbing when you need to order?” She flipped her pad open and jotted down our choices, then bustled to the kitchen.
    “Aren’t you Chatty Cathy?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or is it Nancy Drew?”
    Boy, what was it with him and Carly and the Nancy Drew thing? I ignored that part of his question and laughed. “You always said I talked too much, remember?”
    “That was when I was twelve and trying to catch a fish, and you wanted to discuss the most effective swim strokes.” He reached toward my hand, I think, but ended up bumping my tea glass instead.
    I grabbed it to keep it from tipping over.
    “You don’t want to get involved in a murder investigation, Jenna.”
    “I don’t want my nephew to go to jail for something he didn’t do, Alex,” I said, mocking his slightly patronizing tone.
    He flicked at a speck on the plastic