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remember an Ashlee, but we get lots of people in here.” She pointed at the menu with her pen. “Are you ready to order?”
    I hadn’t bothered reading the menu, I’d been so busy thinking up lies. I abandoned my plan to order pancakes and went with a smaller breakfast. “Coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.”
    “Great.”
    She retrieved the plastic menu with her left hand, a flash of color catching my eye. A simple gold band sat on her finger. My mind hummed as I thought of the implications. Was this really the same Maria who was cheating with Bobby Joe? Had her husband found out and killed him? Is that the man she’d been arguing with when I’d sat down?
    Maria headed toward the side counter that held the coffee dispensers and extra cups and plates. I watched her go, then straightened my silverware and tried to think of a way to work the conversation around to Bobby Joe. Not the easiest job in the world, considering I barely knew him, didn’t know Maria at all, and had no reason to make chitchat with a waitress at 6:30 AM on a Friday morning. But now that I’d spotted a ring, I had to find out if this was indeed the same Maria. Maybe she and her husband were separated. Maybe she was a young widow who was still grieving and that man I’d seen her talking to wasn’t her husband after all.
    I sensed movement to my right. The waitress who had originally shown me to my table held up two carafes, separated by the big smile on her face.
    “You want your coffee leaded or unleaded, darling?” Her perkiness hurt my ears.
    “Leaded.”
    She set the orange-topped carafe down, flipped my cup over, and poured coffee from the second carafe, then moved to the next table to offer a refill.
    Over by the counter, two waitresses stood near the pass-thru window, chatting, but Maria wasn’t one of them. And she wasn’t waiting on any other tables either. Probably taking a bathroom break. I took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and added a packet of sweetener, still stumped about how to get Maria to open up to me.
    Maybe I should have said Bobby Joe was the friend who recommended Maria as a waitress, but that would have set off all kinds of warning bells. Then again, if I asked her about her affair with Bobby Joe, the bells would be clanging pretty loud.
    The same waitress who had poured my coffee appeared again, this time carrying my bagel and a sealed packet of cream cheese. She plopped the plate on the table with a clank.
    “You need anything else, hon?”
    I stared at the slightly burned bagel, wondering if my plans had gone up in smoke. “What happened to Maria?”
    The waitress shrugged. “Not sure. All of a sudden she wasn’t feeling so hot and asked me to cover her shift.”
    She’d definitely appeared tired when talking to me, but not sick. What had sent her hightailing it out of here so fast?
    Was it something I said?
    Or something the man arguing with her had said?

5
    I scraped the burned edges off my bagel, slathered on the cream cheese, and gobbled up my breakfast, anxious to get to work. I’d already wasted enough time at the restaurant, especially since I’d found out absolutely nothing. Except that Maria had apparently been struck by a spontaneous case of stomach flu.
    With a last gulp of coffee, I tossed a couple dollars on the table, paid my tab at the door, and hopped in my Civic. The morning heat was stifling. I flipped on the air conditioner as I eased out of the parking lot. Summers in Blossom Valley often reached ice-cream-for-dinner temperatures, but this latest heat wave was almost unbearable.
    At the farm, I parked on the side closest to the pond and made sure all the little ducklings were paddling in the water. At least I wouldn’t be on duck roundup this morning.
    The lobby was empty, the rustle of the potted ficus leaves the only movement as warm air drifted in the door with me. The blue-and-white checkered love seat and matching blue wing chairs patiently waited for guests to sit and browse