I don't know why it took that long for the lightbulb to flash on, but it finally did. "So you were her..."

She waited for me to finish the sentence. I floundered around like a beached mackerel for a couple of stupid lifetimes and finally came up with "... partner?"

Her snort was neither ladylike nor polite. Standing up, she went to the coffeepot and refilled her mug. "G.o.d, that's a stupid term. It sounds like we were in harness together. Kat and Queenie." She chuckled. "Not bad names for draft horses."

She was babbling.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't-" I began lamely, but she was waving it off.

"It's all right. No one could figure out what to call us, even if they knew. And hardly anybody knew." She was gazing past the geraniums through the spotless window.

"Why not?"

"'Cuz of s.h.i.thead."

"Her... ex?" I guessed.

Taking a long plastic container from the refrigerator, she removed the cover and set it in front of me. Rows of shortbread stared back at me.

"Who's the friend?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" I said, startled from my observation of the cookies. Shortbread's almost good enough to turn me Scottish.

"The friend who sent you-who is it?" she asked.

I didn't know how much to say, but she had been kind enough to refrain from shooting me. "His name's Miguel."

She took a cookie, sat back down, and nodded as she ate. "Do you think I'm psychotic?"

"What?"

"I'm relieved that it's a man." She sighed. "You're a shrink, right? Does that make me psycho? That I still care even..." Her voice watered up. She cleared her throat.

"I think you've been through a terrible shock." When in doubt, spout gibberish.

She nodded again, jerkily. "The neighbor found her. Should have been me. I should have been around when she was in the shop, but she was usually so careful. Wore a face mask. Kept the blade shields in place." She winced, fighting tears.

"Were the shields still in place?"

She cleared her throat. "No. She must have been having trouble with the saw again. Must have thought she could fix it herself. Could..." Her voice broke. She fought for control and won. "I should have been here, but she ... she didn't want to live together. Said her daughter wouldn't understand. But it was really because of s.h.i.thead."

"Her ex." It would be nice to have one solid answer.

She nodded.

"Was he causing her trouble?"

"He used to-you know, name-calling, lots of yelling. But things have been quieter lately. She said she wanted to keep it that way, for Jess. Didn't want to cause a scandal. Like this is the Middle Ages or something." She winced. "Kat hated confrontations."

While this woman had no qualms about pointing a gun at a perfectly nice, if somewhat deranged, stranger. Love's funny.

"How long had you and..." I paused, stumbling over the words again.

"We were lovers," she said.

"Of course. Yes." Geez, I was a trained professional. And an adult. And generally not r.e.t.a.r.ded. "How long were you lovers?"

"Six years."

Wow. And I thought it something of a wonder that Harlequin and I were still together after a few months.

"I wanted to get married. Skip off to Vancouver and make it official, but she thought the announcement might show up in the paper. I told her if she loved me she'd do it. But I know she loved me." Her brow wrinkled. "I know it."

Doubt showed in her eyes. I wondered, perhaps uncharitably, if she had doubted enough to kill.

"So her relationship with her ex was pretty serene?"

"Nothing overt, but he always resented the fact that she'd ruined his perfect life."

"How so?"

"They were the ideal family. Him a"-she made quotes in the air with her fingers-"real estate tyc.o.o.n. She the perfect wife, the perfect mother. Then she ups and files for divorce."

"How long ago was that?"

"Seven years. The town was abuzz."

"Did you know her then?"

"I'm from Frisco. Just moved here after Crazy Bet."

"Bet?"

"My ex."

I nodded, wondering about Bet's gender but managing to keep my curiosity to myself.

The kitchen went quiet. The cookies watched me. The gun did the same.

I screwed up my nerve. "Do you think her ex-husband was somehow involved in her death?" I asked.

She stared through me. Tension bloomed like Canadian thistles. Her lips twisted up in a smile, her eyes narrowed. "G.o.d, I'd love to see him swing." She said the words through gritted teeth with enough venom to make my skin crawl, but finally she drew a breath and focused on me as if just remembering I was there. "No," she said. "It was bad luck. Just dumb, bad luck."

9.

He's just a flash in the pants.

-The Magnificent Mandy,

whose quotes were

sometimes more confusing

than magnificent

HAD RARELY SEEN more vitriol stamped on another's face, and yet Queenie had been certain her lovers death was an accident. Why? Had Kathy had some sort of medical condition that made such an incident more likely? Or was Queenie simply unable to consider anything more heinous?

Questions roamed around in my head as I pulled away from the big Victorian. I told myself to head home, to let it go, but I found myself, instead, at a McDonalds. A sign on the door spoke of employment opportunities and promised to build the leaders of tomorrow.

Harley and I shared a Big Mac. I ate most of it; I've seen Super Size Me and try to be a responsible mom. But he was still hungry after the burger, so we decided to share a cone. "Hey," I said to the leader of tomorrow who was slumped behind the counter. I was banking on the fact that small-town folk would be acquainted with one another. "Do you happen to know where Kathy Baltimore lives? I ordered a chair from her a couple months ago and was hoping to pick it up today."

I was blindly fishing for information, but she just stared at me with all the energy of a catatonic loggerhead and shrugged. Tomorrow, I decided, was in big-a.s.s trouble.

I returned to my Saturn, where Harley and I continued our lunch. I ate the ice cream. He had the cone. Neither of us ate the paper wrapper.

After our meal, we turned toward home, but I couldn't quite force myself to leave town. Instead, I stopped at a little shop called Flower Power. I roamed amongst the greenery and fake rocks for a while, wishing my thumb wasn't as black as a politician's soul, until a gray-haired lady with appropriate-size hips finally ran me to ground.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Ummm, yes, how much is this..." I pointed to the nearest plant but couldn't think of a word for it.

"That's a dracaena," she said.

"That's right," I agreed, and nodded judiciously. "It'd look just perfect on the oak stand I ordered from Kathy Baltimore."

Her face froze. "I hope somebody already told you."

I gave her my Oscar-winning blink. "Told me what?"

"Kathy pa.s.sed away just a few days ago."

"No!"

"I'm sorry. Did you know her well?"

"Not at all. I'd just ordered the one piece from her."

"It was a terrible shock for everyone."

"How awful."

"It was. A terrible tragedy. She was such a lovely woman. Had a beautiful house on Parsley Street. Fixed it up herself. Filled it to br.i.m.m.i.n.g with geraniums and old turn-of-the-century photographs."

"How did she die?"

"Well, you know she had the shop."

I nodded.

"They said she fell into her saw. Just pa.s.sed out and all of a sudden toppled forward."

"Oh G.o.d."

She shuddered. "It makes me just sick to think about it. Fran says there was blood everywhere."

"Fran?"

"A neighbor."

"Don't tell me she found her."

"Oh, no. Eldred Ernst found her. He lives next door to her. Said the saw had been running for a week. Probably went to complain. Eldred's..." She shook her head. "Well... I don't like to speak poorly of anyone."

"So she was dead when he found her?"

"Oh, my, yes."

"When was that?"

"Tuesday night. I didn't find out until Wednesday morning."

"And the saw had been running for a week?"

"That's what Eldred said, but he's such a... Well, I don't like to bad-mouth anyone, but he once called the police because Maxie ran through his yard. Called the police. Said Maxie was a menace."

"And Maxie is ..."