Perfect Partners

the crowd that had trickled out of the Anchor and gathered in front to watch the proceedings. The men were talking and laughing among themselves.
    Letty put her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Letty said in a loud voice. “Because I do not.”
    The tavern patrons hushed immediately. They stared curiously at Letty.
    “Who’s she?” someone mumbled in the rear.
    “Heard her say she owns Blackstone.”
    That comment was greeted with a guffaw.
    Letty started toward the tavern door, forcing the small crowd to part. “Which one of you is Stan?”
    “Stan’s inside. Big guy in a white apron. Can’t miss him,” someone volunteered.
    “Thank you,” Letty said in her coldest tone.
    She pushed open the door and walked into the dimly lit tavern. The first person she saw was Keith Escott. He was sitting by himself at a table. He was holding a cold, wet towel to his jaw.
    A big man in a white apron was mopping up spilled drinks on the other side of the room. She ignored him for the moment, concentrating instead on Keith.
    Letty’s stomach contracted as she surveyed the scene. She knew at once what had happened: Joel and Keith had been fighting, and she knew without being told there was only one thing the two men could have been fighting about. She walked over to the table and sat down.
    “Keith? Are you all right?”
    Keith groaned. “What does it look like?”
    Letty tried again. “I take it you and Joel had a misunderstanding?”
    “Bastard had my wife in his motel room this morning. Thinks he can come back here after all this time and just pick up where he left off.
Son of a bitch
. I should have killed him.”
    Letty tried to calm herself. Keith was obviously drunk and probably severely traumatized from the bar fight. He did not look like the sort of man who got into tavern brawls. She strove to keep her voice crisp and businesslike.
    “Keith, are you by any chance making reference to the fact that your wife called on Joel and me this morning to discuss the Copeland Marine situation?”
    Keith blinked, apparently having trouble following the question. “She was in his room with him.”
    “Yes, of course. So was I,” Letty said smoothly. “Joel and I have a suite with a connecting door. The three of us had a short business meeting. Your wife is quite naturally concerned that we might be forced to liquidate Copeland Marine. We assured her we will make every effort to find an alternative, but frankly, the situation does not look good.”
    Keith stared at her, bleary-eyed. “What are you talking about? She went to see him.”
    “About Copeland Marine. Yes, I know. As I told you, I was there.” Letty mentally crossed her fingers. She was not exactly lying. It was more a case of finessing the situation. It was a tactic corporate executives and overworked reference librarians used all the time. “What seems to be the problem here?”
    But Keith had finally managed to focus on the crucial point. “You were there?”
    “Yes. As I said, Joel and I share a connecting suite.”
    “I knew it,” Keith muttered. “Son of a bitch is sleeping with his boss.”
    Letty felt herself turning red. She was grateful for the dim lighting. “You may rest assured that I do not share my CEO with anyone. For any purpose whatsoever. Do I make myself quite clear, Mr. Escott?”
    “He didn’t take my Diana to bed?”
    “Absolutely not.” Letty stood up. “Just how do you plan to get home tonight, Keith?”
    “Got my car out front.”
    “You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll call a cab for you.”
    “Don’t have any cabs here in Echo Cove,” Keith said.
    “Then I’ll call your wife.”
    Keith straightened in the chair, looking slightly more sober. “No. For God’s sake, don’t do that.”
    “I don’t see why Diana should miss all the excitement,” Letty retorted. “What’s your phone number?”
    Apparently too weary to argue further, Keith subsided in the chair. “Five-five-five-seven-two-three-one.”
    Letty went over to the bar and called to the big man in the apron. “Stan, where’s your phone?”
    Stan looked up, startled. “End of the bar. Why?”
    “Isn’t it obvious? I want to use it.” Letty found the phone and dialed swiftly. It was answered on the second ring.
    “Hello?” Diana’s voice was as sultry over the phone as it was in person. “Who is this? Is that you Keith? Where are you?”
    “This is Letty Thornquist,” Letty cut in briskly. “Your husband