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attention. Maybe she should charge him a consulting fee.

The idea lurked in the back of her mind while she took a seat opposite him in the deli. "Is Arnie here?" she asked Ruth, a waitress.

The older woman smiled. "Sorry, honey. He ran off to pick up Jill from work. She had to get her tires changed."

A strange sense of abandonment claimed her. How dare Arnie desert her in this hour of need! He'd been spending much of his free time in Jill's company lately, she realized with a twinge of jealousy. Well, that had been her choice. Despite Arnie's urging to the contrary and their false engagement, Marla hadn't wanted their relationship to progress beyond friendship.

She ordered a full meal, intending to milk Stan for a free dinner. "So what's this information you have to share?" she asked him after Ruth left to get their drinks.

Folding his hands on the table, he leaned forward. A lock of black hair fell across his brow.

"I spoke to Stella, Kim's mother. We were discussing Kim's funeral, and I asked about the nurse's aide position. They're still interviewing people and haven't found anyone satisfactory."

"Tally said I could use her for a reference, pretend I'm working for her mother during the week. I feel guilty about lying, though."

"How do you think undercover cops conduct investigations? You're helping to find a murderer."

Marla tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why are you so convinced one of Kim's family is guilty?"

"A lot of money is involved. A lot. Kim and I made a prenuptial agreement. In the event anything happened to her, Kim's family retains her share of Grandpa Harris's trust fund, although I think the trust itself is set up that way."

"What if something happened to you first?"

He regarded her with a steady gaze. "My kids inherit my savings and pension funds. I'm not a total nudnik, Marla. I take care of my own. If you had let me -- "

"Let's not go down that road again." She slouched back when Ruth brought their beverages. Just what she needed. A cup of hot coffee would revive her brain for a few more hours. Taking her time, she added cream and sugar while contemplating what to ask Stan next.

"How do I get an interview for the job?" she asked after sipping the strong brew.

"Here's their phone number." Stan gave her a piece of paper. "The old lady rules the nest, but she's grown feeble. Florence, her eldest daughter, is the one who interviews prospective employees, so ask for her when you call. God, I can't stand how those sisters bicker constantly. When Florence and Stella are together in the same room, it can drive you nuts."

"Why is that?"

He shrugged. "Stella dabbles in craft projects, which Florence thinks are frivolous wastes of time. Florence is hung up on society functions. The two of them don't see eye to eye on anything. Then there's the other reason they don't get along." Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. "Florence was in love with the man who became Stella's husband."

"Really?"

To her disappointment, he didn't elaborate. "Their brother, Morris, lives at the complex with his wife and sons, but he's engrossed in the family business. None of them ever approved of me because I earned my way up the rungs instead of being born into wealth. They're a bunch of snobs."

"How delightful," Marla murmured.

Their meals arrived, and she ate her corned beef sandwich in silence, savoring the greasy potato latkes that accompanied the dish. Stan played with his roast beef, cutting the meat into fine pieces and pushing them around on his plate. He didn't eat with his usual gusto, reminding Marla that he was in mourning.

A surge of sympathy engulfed her, but she steeled herself against it. "How about our agreement?" she said, putting down her fork. "I want proof that you'll sell me your half of our rental property."

A grimace crossed his features. "I figured you'd bring that up. Always interested in serving your needs first, aren't you?"

"I can say the same thing about