Chapter 34
I SAT IN our favorite booth at Susie’s. The place was filling up with people coming in after work for happy hour, and the Caribbean music playing over the speakers seemed louder than usual.
But to me, it felt like a quiet sanctuary.
Here I was, having a beer, sitting with some of my best friends. It could be worse.
Yuki, Claire, and I were wondering why Cindy, the last member of our Women’s Murder Club, was so late when we saw her hustling across the restaurant toward us.
Claire and I were sipping our beers, trying to keep it to a single drink. Yuki Castellano, however, was already on her second margarita, and I saw her signal Lorraine, our favorite waitress, for a third. Very slick.
I turned to Yuki and said, “Those aren’t part of a two-for-one deal, you know.”
“I’m willing to pay the price.” She lifted the glass and took a giant swig. “The remaining defendants in my trial decided to roll the dice. The judge gave us a day’s postponement. This is my last moment of anything but complete immersion in a very stressful, stupid trial. Give me a break.”
Claire said, “Wow, you’re usually so confident about kicking ass. I take this as a bad sign.”
Just then Cindy made it to our booth. Without asking, she picked up Yuki’s glass and took a swig herself. Then she set it down and said, “Mango?”
Yuki said, “It’s the special. What are you complaining about?”
“Not a complaint. I just didn’t expect it.” Cindy reached down and snatched up the glass again. She took another big gulp. Then she waved to Lorraine and pointed at Yuki’s drink, signaling she’d take one herself. “What the hell.”
Once Cindy sat down, Claire looked around at the crowd and said, “I had a very nice chat with Hope this morning.”
Cindy asked, “What’s the story with her?”
“Apparently, she hasn’t stabbed anyone.”
“Wait, what?”
Claire laughed and said, “That’s exactly what I said.”
I looked over at Cindy and said, “What took you so long?”
“Surveillance.”
I was a little surprised. “What were you doing?”
“Work stuff—no big deal.” She left it at that.
Claire asked me, “Any breaks on either of the bodies that are sitting in my morgue?”
“Nothing yet. We’re looking at the guy who came to your party, Eric Snaff, as one potential suspect. We know he was here in San Francisco the night Tina Barnes was murdered in Golden Gate Park. The cops in San Julio believe he’s a good suspect in his own daughter’s disappearance.”
Yuki, who was starting to slur her words just a tad, said, “That’s sick. But if he’s involved in his daughter’s disappearance, why does he want Cindy to write about it?”
Cindy said, “Apparently there’ve been a number of instances where parents were involved in their children’s disappearances. The fact that he came to me might mean it’s some form of Munchausen syndrome by proxy. He could be looking for attention.”
I decided this was Cindy’s thing; I didn’t need to voice my idea that Eric Snaff might not be a weird, potentially dangerous nutcase.