on her was just an aftereffect of her vision.
But she knew better. Deep in her heart, she knew better.
With the ever-present notes of jazz surrounding him, Glenn looked down at the invoices on his desk, invoices that carpeted the entire cherry expanse, and wondered what the hell was going on. Blue Note shouldn’t be in the red, at least not this far in the red. They had customers. Not as many as before, but according to the receipts, Blue Note wasn’t doing that badly, and actually, they’d been doing great for a while. It was just that ever since that incident with the college kid who’d died after being served at Blue Note, things had gone bad. It wasn’t their fault that the kid had tried some kind of recreational drug and had a bad reaction to it before he’d come to their restaurant, but Blue Note kept getting lumped in with the event, so…
But that still didn’t explain the flood of red ink in which he was drowning, both here and at home, where the spending just kept happening.
His mind jumped to thoughts of Gia. Damn the woman. She’d tried to haul him into bed just before he’d bolted for the restaurant. He’d thought about telling her about the nursery rhyme, but all she wanted to do was get laid and conceive. He needed a baby like he needed a hole in his head.
“Glenn,” she’d called from the stairway. “Bring your big, luscious self over here!”
He’d been in the kitchen and he’d walked toward the front of the house. The blob had been bare-ass naked and hanging onto a newel post, jiggling her goods in a way that had made him feel slightly nauseous.
He’d run for his life. But now he was here, the clock on his desk reminding him it was after seven, the minutes of his miserable life ticking by, the dinner hour, what there was of it tonight, in full swing. Make that half swing. Or maybe no swing at all, he thought sourly as he sat in the midst of all this financial misery and wondered if it might not be a good idea to take a long walk off a short pier. Who would miss him? Gia? She’d find someone else. Scott? Like he cared about him beyond what he could get in sweat equity. His good friends from high school…?
If they’d been so good, where had they been in the last twenty years?
After the cop had come to the restaurant, he and Scott had told everyone about how Detective McNally had paid a visit. But Glenn had kept the nursery rhyme note to himself. Scott hadn’t mentioned it, either. Most of the guys had spoken with the detective and it had put everyone on edge. The Third had warned them to keep their cool. None of them had wanted to speculate about Jessie, at least not too much. They all wanted the investigation—and maybe Jessie herself—to just go away forever.
Glenn rubbed his temples.
Jessie…
He felt almost physically ill, thinking about her. Yanking open one of his desk drawers, he pulled out his bottle of Bushmills and poured himself a half glassful. Drinking sounded like a good idea. A damn good idea.
He was deep into his second glass when there was a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he called garrulously. He didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone.
“Glenn?” a female voice asked.
A shiver ran through him. Premonition. His lips parted and he half expected Jessie to enter the room, but it was Renee whose cap of dark hair and brown eyes peeked into the room. His heart rate had skyrocketed and now, with the rush of adrenaline dissipating, he felt goddamn good and mad. Hudson Walker’s sister—excuse me, twin sister—had always bugged him. Even in high school she’d been nosy and high-handed, as if she were better than everyone else.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
“Sorry. I know you’re busy. I tried to call, but my cell phone’s dead—forgot to recharge, so.” She shrugged, clutching her purse in a death grip as she walked into the office. Despite her apologies, she seemed tense, even worried. “Look, I heard from Hudson that you talked to McNally, and I’m sure my name’s coming up on his list. I just wanted some feedback. What did you tell him?”
So that’s what the visit is all about. Weird. He wondered if Renee was working on her “story” about Jessie, or was this something else? Glenn selfishly didn’t offer her a drink. He hoped she wasn’t going to sit down, but she did just that, perching on the edge of one of the club chairs, her elbows now on her purse in her lap, her fingers pushing through her hair.
“I haven’t said anything,” Glenn told her. “There’s nothing to say. You sure look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was dry but oddly unsure.
He squinted at her, wondering if he was just feeling the effects of the Bushmills or if Renee was hiding something, holding something in. “Talk to Scott. He was here when McNally showed up.”
“Is he around?”
“Yeah. He’s going back to the beach tomorrow.”
Was it his imagination or did she stiffen slightly? “Where’s your restaurant again? What part of the coast?”
“Lincoln City.”
“Oh. South.”
“South of what?”
She hesitated. “Deception Bay. I go there sometimes.”
“Really? Why? It’s like…nowhere. We checked out all the towns before we opened Blue Ocean, well, Scott, he did the searching, and Deception Bay didn’t make the top ten, or even the top fifty.”
“It’s…a good place to get away. Writers, we need peace and quiet. But anyway, back to the cops.”
“Yeah?”
“If you thought you knew something. Nothing concrete, but…something that might actually have bearing on the investigation…would you tell the detective?”
“I wouldn’t tell him anything. Nada.” He thought about the nursery rhyme and wondered if he should mention it to Renee, but saw no reason. “You’ve been working this story. What do you think? Did you learn something?”
“No,” she said quickly.
“That sounds like a lie.”
“It wasn’t,” she assured him and seemed about to unload. God, he hoped it wasn’t about her divorce. Women loved to talk about relationships, good or bad, but he just wasn’t interested. He had his own domestic problems.
“What then?”
“I was at the coast a couple of days ago. I ran into some people…that I think knew Jessie.” Renee looked away from him, to the pictures on the wall, snapshots of Scott and Glenn when they opened the restaurant.
“At Deception Bay, right?” Glenn was having trouble following and sitting up straight. The booze was hitting hard.
“Jessie’s family used to have a house there and there was talk of a cult nearby and—”
“Does this have a point?” Glenn asked just as the door opened and Scott stepped into the room.
“Renee,” he said in surprise.
Doesn’t
