oyster sauce," Nina said, after perusing the menu.
Gretchen shook her head. "No oyster sauce for you. You're a vegan, remember?"
"What's wrong with oyster sauce? Is it really oysters?"
Gretchen sighed. "Why don't you give up? You'll never be a vegan. Do something realistic, like giving up red meat. Or refuse to eat mammals."
Nina clapped her hands. "That's a wonderful idea."
"Two Chinese broccolis in oyster sauce," Gretchen said to the waiter, relieved that Nina's vegan days were behind her.
"Maybe our tail was that floozy of a summer intern,"
Nina said. "You know, the one that--"
Gretchen cut her off. "I know which one you mean. There's only one intern in my life. One too many. Steve said he broke it off with Courtney after I found out about them."
"Then she has a good motive to chase you down."
Steve's duplicity had been the reason Gretchen left Boston permanently, and a good enough reason to end their going-nowhere relationship. Had Courtney followed him to Phoenix?
"Breaking it off before you found out would have been better for him," Nina said. "He might have had a chance."
"No," Gretchen said. "Resisting completely would have been better. A college kid, can you believe it?"
Dinners came, and Gretchen poured tea for both of them.
After they had eaten, they broke open their fortune cookies.
Nina read hers first: " 'A person of words and not deeds is like a garden full of weeds.' Humph," she said. "I don't get it. Who makes up this stuff? What's yours?"
" 'Advice, when most needed, is least heeded.' "
Gretchen stuffed the bit of paper into her purse and said,
"Tomorrow has to be a better day."
Gretchen sat at the worktable and tried to forget the disturbing events of the last few days. Steve's reappearance in her life, the loss of her Ginnys and her money, Brett's accident, Ronny Beam's violent murder, her missing knife found in his back, the mysterious package containing the Kewpie, and a confrontation with the enraged woman. Gretchen hated confrontation.
Steve had called while they were at the Chinese restaurant, and she had turned off her cell phone when she saw his number on the caller ID. She planned on leaving it off until sometime tomorrow.
She intentionally didn't check the kitchen answering machine either before retreating to the workshop, since she suspected he had called the house as well.
The house was so quiet. Daisy's bedroom door was closed, and she decided not to disturb her. Gretchen couldn't imagine having to find a place to sleep outdoors every night. Park benches couldn't be comfortable. No wonder Daisy always slept right through her visits to Gretchen. Gretchen embraced the silence of the cozy room, welcomed it after the brouhaha that always surrounded largerthan-life Nina. Nimrod dozed on his bed, and the nocturnal Wobbles sat on the table next to her, his eyes closed and a deep, throaty purr rumbling from inside of him.
She ran her hand through his silky black fur from head to tip of tail and thought about the hobby knife found protruding from Ronny's back. Her knife. Ronny was as abrasive as a Brillo pad, but who would have killed him? Even if Steve had taken her knife, he hadn't even met Ronny when it disappeared.
Steve was a tenacious trial attorney, used to stressful situations and able to remain calm in the face of just about any challenge. He handled the ugliest divorces and had been threatened often by vengeful spouses. He'd always prided himself on his ability to turn any situation to his advantage.
Steve couldn't have killed Ronny for one simple, telling fact: his ongoing bid for partnership in the law firm meant more to him than anything in the world. He would never act in a way that might harm his position.
But if Steve didn't kill Ronny, who did? Who had a mo- tive?
Just about anyone in Phoenix who had crossed paths with the blundering, insensitive reporter.
The business phone rang beside her, and she waited impatiently for the answering machine's greeting to finish. Steve's voice, filled with barely concealed frustration, filled the room. "Gretchen, where are you? I've tried your cell and your main number. Pick up. I know you're there." A pause. "We need to discuss us. Stop hiding. I'll try back in an hour." He disconnected.
Spreading a towel on the worktable, she chose a doll from the repair bag and finished taking it apart--legs, arms, and head. She laid out the pieces, chose the right size elastic cording, and went to work on the doll's leg. She attached the cording