Chapter Two

Silence. I could not speak. My brain shut down on me. I was unable to move. My breath felt blocked. In what had to have been only seconds, in which I sat with such limited abilities, I was able to see. Those doll-eyes were once again glaring down at me, drawing me into the inner depths of their skinny young owner.

What I saw there jolted me so severely that when my body jumped, so did my arm, banging into my plate. Food scattered everywhere.

"Didn't think you even knew the old playboy," Mitch said, as he picked up french fries and tossed them back onto the plate.

"He gave me my start in business."

"Thought Joe -"

"Joe stepped in when his brother tried to take over the newspaper without my knowledge."

Mitch stopped picking up french fries and was glaring at me again. "What?"

"You could be a suspect in his murder."

"Thomas was murdered?"

"Callin' it an accidental drownin' so far. I'm not convinced the old guy slipped under the bath water without some help."

When Mitch picked up a french fry and held it between his formerly nicotine stained fingers like he would a cigarette, I knew he was genuinely concerned. But was that concern out of fear his police buddies would treat Thomas Wise's death as an accident and close the case without investigating the possibility of foul play? Or was he worried they would conclude it was murder and place me on the top of their list of suspects?

Instead of questioning him about it, I decided to give him something else to think about.

"I didn't see Joe today. According to the young blonde waif who answered his door, Joe was napping."

I looked straight over into midnight blue eyes, which was like seeing a reflection of my own.

"Joe doesn't nap," I pointed out. "At least not when he knows I'm due to arrive."

I assumed Mitch would immediately want to know if I knew the woman. But no, white teeth sparkled between silver beard and mustache. He was snickering like he did before one of his judgmental comments.

"Thought you licked that streak of jealousy, Fay? You know it'll only give you-"

"Gray hair and wrinkles like you?"

The purpose of my insult was to shut him up. Certainly not to create the burst of laughter that came from him.

If the restaurant hadn't started filling with customers, I know I would have dumped my plate of food over his head .Instead, I took a deep breath, shoved back my shoulders, and left the restaurant.

Go ahead and laugh, I thought, because I would have the last laugh once the annoying man realized I stuck him paying the bill for the third time in the past week.