tables and chairs as well as an eclectic mix of mismatched furniture. Overstuffed chairs and French flea market sofas, along with floor and table lamps, gave customers the feeling of relaxing in a bohemian living room. (With so many Village apartments being nothing more than tiny cramped studios and one bedrooms, it literally was that for many.) And tonight it was romantically lit with a roaring fire in the brick hearth at the front of the room.
To start what was termed the “Power Meet” session, our chipper hostess told us she was going to position all the women around the room at different tables and seating areas. She would then select men at random and pair them with the various women.
But before Nan began seating us, I noticed her having a little side discussion with Tucker. It looked rather tense. I motioned him over.
“Everything all right?” I asked while Nan got busy seating the women around the room.
“Nan’s upset,” he whispered. “You’re not going to believe this, but your group is actually short a woman—someone cancelled without calling.”
“She just figured this out?”
“Yes, and she asked me to find someone downstairs who’d be interested in trying the Power Meet for free tonight.”
The usual fee was forty dollars per participant, which included your three cappuccinos. It worked well for the Blend—since the cappuccinos were pre-purchased by the church group, we were guaranteed to move one hundred and twenty drinks right off the bat, and often couples would descend the stairs and hang out for another hour on the first floor, talking and purchasing even more coffees. All in all, the singles sessions were a boon for the Blend.
“Got any ideas?” I asked him.
Tucker shook his head. “I’ll make the rounds. Latitia’s down there, but she’s already on a date with a guy from the symphony. Kira Kirk’s doing a crossword, but that woman acts like she hates all men. Martha Buck is at a table editing a manuscript, but I think she’s meeting someone. And Winnie Winslet stopped in, but she’s already said this isn’t her style.”
I thought a minute. “What about Inga?”
Tucker paled a little. “You mean Inga Berg?”
“I do indeed. Maybe shop and drop Inga will actually meet someone here worth holding onto.”
“Clare, Inga’s dead.”
“Dead!”
I’d said it a little too loudly. A few heads turned.
“Dead?” I whispered. “How? When?”
“Suicide. She jumped from the top of her building last Thursday night. I just heard about it from a Voice journalist doing a piece on it. The police kept the lid pretty tight on what happened at first, and she was so new to her building that the tenants weren’t even sure of her name—”
“Which is why we didn’t hear any rumors until now,” I guessed.
“It’s a terrible shame,” said Tucker. “But I better get going. Nan’s coming our way.”
My head was still spinning after Tucker left and Nan guided me to an armchair by the brick fireplace.
Inga Berg and Valerie Lathem. Both Blend customers. Both attractive young women. Both seemingly had everything to live for—yet both had committed suicide within weeks of each other.
Coincidence?
I’d once heard Mike Quinn say, “In my business, there are no coincidences.” And thinking of Quinn made me remember he’d been called to a crime scene the night of our dinner—and the night of our dinner was the night Inga had killed herself.
As Nan passed out small Hello Kitty notepads and pencils to everyone, I wondered if that was the reason I hadn’t seen Mike. Had he been assigned to investigate Inga’s suicide?
By the time Nan was done, Tucker had reappeared with the twentieth woman, Kira Kirk. She seemed a bit apprehensive, still clutching her crossword puzzle book. As usual, her hair was in its long gray braid, but she’d probably stopped in after a consulting appointment because she was dressed much nicer than usual—in a tailored black pantsuit rather than her usual oversized sweaters and jeans. And she was wearing makeup, too. She looked quite pretty, actually, and I was glad to see her up here.
My eyebrows rose at Tucker and he just shrugged. As Nan took Kira to a seat across the room, I motioned him over again.
“How did you manage to persuade her?” I whispered.
“Free, unlimited cappuccinos for two weeks, that’s how.”
“You’ll have five minutes to get to know each other,” announced Nan. With the women already seated, she quickly paired the men and women randomly. “When you hear the timer, shake hands and the gentlemen must then move one seat to the right.