Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,17
away a substantial amount of money for Matt’s college.
But she was aware of the fact that everything could change in the blink of an eye. She’d always been suspect of her good luck after she’d fled her home in California. The first couple of months on the road had been difficult, but once she’d landed in Grady Gulch magical things had fallen into place.
Somewhere in the very depths of her heart she’d always feared it was all too good to be true, that when she least expected it, it would all disappear. It would be taken away from her as penance.
“Whew, busy morning.” Lynette Shivers, one of the waitresses, stepped up next to Mary. “Hopefully we’ll get a little breathing room before lunch.”
Mary smiled gratefully at the young woman. “I’m just glad you and the other two are here. I wouldn’t have blamed any of you for deciding not to work here anymore.”
“No creep is going to scare me away from my job,” Lynette said with a burst of bravado. “I like working here and I’m not about to quit.”
“I just want you all to stay safe,” Mary replied.
“I am staying safe. So far these murders have only happened to women who live alone. Regina Maxwell moved in with me last week, so I’m not by myself in that house and we check and double-check the windows and doors all the time to make sure they’re locked tight.”
“That’s good to hear,” Mary replied. Regina Maxwell was another of the waitresses who was working that day. Regina was only twenty-four, a bit flightly and often talked too much to the customers, but she was also a favorite among the diners.
“Besides, Denver Walton invited me out on a date for this weekend,” Lynette said with a special smile lighting her green eyes. “I’m hoping he’ll come in at some time today to firm up the plans.”
Mary wanted to warn the young waitress that Denver wasn’t a good bet for any kind of a long-term relationship, but she didn’t have the heart to dispel the happiness in Lynette’s eyes at the moment. There would be time later to warn her about giving away her heart too easily to a man like Denver Walton.
The two women got back to work preparing for the lunch rush to come. Joe Lina, the mailman, arrived with a pile of mail for Mary. “I’ve got a fistful of things for you today,” he said as he set the pile on the counter.
“Catalogs and bills,” Mary replied. “That’s all I ever get.”
“My wife gets dozens of catalogs in the mail. She says looking through them is her favorite hobby. Sometimes she finds something she wants to order and usually has to send it back for some reason or another, but mostly she just looks.”
“Most of the catalogs I get are advertising new restaurant equipment that I either can’t afford or don’t want or need. But it is fun to thumb through them,” Mary agreed.
Joe waved a goodbye and Mary carried her mail to the coffee table in her living room and then returned to the café.
Lunchtime came and went and it was about three when Mary poured herself a cup of coffee and sank down on a stool behind the counter to rest her feet for a few minutes.
Deputy Ben Temple was the only customer in the place at the moment. He sat at a table for two against the far wall, a cup of coffee at his elbow and the morning newspaper spread out in front of him. He’d been there through breakfast and lunch and she knew he’d probably be there through dinner, as well. In fact, she had a feeling that he’d be a permanent fixture in the café until the murderer was behind bars.
He’d not only watched every person who walked through the café door, he’d also interviewed each of the three waitresses working that day, asking if they had anyone in their lives who didn’t appreciate the fact that they were waitressing. Apparently he hadn’t gotten any shocking answers from anyone, for he remained seated and hadn’t used his cell phone to contact anyone.
She sipped her coffee and thought about the customers she considered regulars. Joe Lina rarely missed a meal here, but despite his unpleasant nature there was no way she could believe the old man capable of killing anyone.
Although the theory was that Candy Bailey’s killer had walked in through the front door either invited or not invited, the killer had gotten