street from the bookstore, and I’d told her, no strike that, more like confessed, about the cup of tea with Barry.
“I just want him to go home so I can get my stuff back from the storage unit and have my crochet room again,” I said. “It’s too confusing with him there. I’m angry at him for being so stubborn. If I wouldn’t marry him, we couldn’t even be friends? What kind of logic is that? I should never have offered to let him stay at my house.”
“It sounds like he wants to be friends now,” Dinah said.
“No, I think he appreciates that I let them live at my place and I think he was bored last night and had no one to talk to. Remember, he’s used to keeping crazy hours. He told me he’s working nine to five now.”
“Did you tell him about the incident on the L.A. 911 shoot?” Dinah asked as one of the counter people brought over our food. I had a red eye and one of their freshly made cheese croissants. Dinah had ordered café au lait and a plain croissant. As usual, the airy place, with its round tables and black-and-white-checkered floor, was busy, and there was a line of people at the counter waiting to place their orders.
“No. I just left a big silence after Samuel’s comment,” I said picking up the red eye and checking to see if it was too hot to drink. “Then I rushed inside and left Barry sitting under the stars.” The coffee drink needed a few minutes to cool, so I broke off a piece of the cheese croissant. “I suppose having the tea was okay. We just talked about the cases he’s working on. It wasn’t like it was anything personal. I’m just as ready to shut the door on our relationship as he is. Once he moves home, that’s it, we’re done.”
“You had a busy night. Dinner with Mason first. How’s that going?” Dinah simultaneously poured steamed milk and hot coffee into her mug. I told her about Mason’s problems with his daughter’s wedding. “But did he say anything about inviting you?”
I made a face. “No.” I tried the coffee again and took a small sip. I started to defend Mason saying he had a lot on his plate, but Dinah interrupted me.
“You know you could just tell him you want to be invited.”
“I want him to do it on his own.” I explained what he’d said about taking baby steps. “At least, he’s trying.”
“I’m just curious,” Dinah began. “You said Barry had a lot of people visiting him while he’s been staying at your place. Was Detective Heather one of them?” Heather Gilmore was a homicide detective and if she was aiming for perfect, she was succeeding. She was smart, beautiful and I heard she was great with a gun. She’d always had an eye on Barry.
“I don’t know. There were all kinds of people coming and going—home health care workers, his cop friends, pizza delivery guys. I think he even got flowers. It’s not my business anyway.” I pulled off another piece of my roll.
A dark-haired man with a quick gait came into the café and went directly to the counter. He grabbed a coffee, and as he headed back toward the door I caught sight of his face and recognized the sharp features of Kelly’s husband, Dan. I didn’t really know him, other than he shopped at the bookstore and liked spy novels, but when he looked in my direction, I said hello.
“The bookstore lady,” he said, setting his cup on our table as he checked to make sure the top was secure on his coffee. “And Kelly does some kind of activity with you, right?” He seemed a little overly cheery. The kind of cheery that grated on your nerves in the morning. I mentioned the crochet group and introduced Dinah. He picked up his coffee and seemed about to go, but then set it down again. “I want to run a few names past you. I’d like to get input from the locals. I’m not so sure Hollar for a Dollar is the best name for my store. I could feel Dinah twitching in her seat. It bugged her no end that he had misspelled hollar so it rhymed with dollar. Any day now she was sure some hapless freshmen in her English class would spell holler with an a and use the store as the reason why.