Read Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery) for Free Online Page B

motion. Her curls were puppet limbs following her descent. “You’re supposed to smile. Mimes bring that out, among other emotions. I’m part of a troupe. We’re just starting to get paying gigs. I’m Zoey, by the way.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Zoey. I like your name.”
    “It’s from a book, like in Franny and—. My mom was into Salinger.”
    Salinger. J.D., not Mary Lou. Was she real, this Mary Lou Salinger? “ Franny and Zooey ,” she said. “Zooey was a guy.”
    “They wanted a boy.”
    “So you became Zoey.”
    Zoey was giving her that stare again. “What did you say your name was?”
    She took a sip of the coffee. It was as good as it smelled.
    Temporary Jane, she thought. T.J. Yes, why not T.J.? “T.J.,” she said.
    “T.J., like Teresa Judy?”
    “Or Tillie Joan.”
    Zoey giggled. “Or Tabitha Jill.”
    They both laughed.
    A workman went by outside the shop and the flash of his blinking worklight filled the small space. Zoey froze, stared off into the distance. Her eyes rolled back. She slipped out of sight.
    Stunned, T.J. leaned over the counter. Zoey lay on the floor, thrashing, her head rigid. A seizure. Projecting herself off the stool, T.J. squeezed into the small space behind the counter. She raised Zoey’s head slightly, and stroked her cool forehead. Spittle oozed from the corner of Zoey’s mouth.
    She’d call 911, but there was no phone that she could see and she didn’t want to leave Zoey. A minute or so might be okay. A minute or so went by and the twitching began to subside. Color came back to Zoey’s face.
    Zoey’s lids fluttered, opened. She sighed. “I’m sorry, dude.”
    “Just stay still. I’m going to call 911.”
    Zoey clutched her hand. “No, you can’t. Please. I’ll lose my job.”
    “But you’ve had a seizure.”
    “I have epilepsy. Help me sit up. I’ll be okay, honest. I just have to sleep for a little while.”
    “I’ll close the shop then.”
    “No, please. I don’t know you, but you seem so nice. Could you just stay behind the counter for me and pour coffee if anyone comes in?”
    “I can’t—”
    “I know it’s asking a lot, but please. The coffee is ready. All you have to do is pour it and take the money. I need to close my eyes for a few minutes.” She stripped off the vinyl gloves. “Here, put these on. We’re supposed to wear them.”
    “I don’t know how to work an espresso machine.”
    “Say ... broke down.” Zoey’s words were thick and mushied. She threw off the packages of napkins on the shelf under the counter, and even before T.J. had finished helping her onto it, Zoey was asleep. She listened to the even breathing, then rose and took off the down jacket. Temporary Jane was now temporary counterperson.
    With shaking hands, she straightened the fingers of Zoey’s gloves and inserted her own, smoothing the gloves into a second skin. She refilled her coffee mug with regular coffee and wiped up the spill. She would need the caffeine and a steadier hand. It was going to be a long night, and maybe, just maybe, after a healing sleep, Zoey might remember why she looked familiar.

11
    “W HERE’S THE other one?”
    T.J. snapped awake. A burly man in a yellow plastic hardhat was grinning at her. “I’m sorry.” She blinked. Coffee. The coffee bar. As coffee bar tender, she said, “I’m filling in for Zoey tonight. What can I get you?”
    “The top of the line. Tall, black, and leaded, to go.”
    She slid the cardboard collar on the steaming tower and handed it to him. “Would you know the time?”
    “Almost six,” he said. He waved off the change from his two dollars and left.
    T.J. knelt down and gave Zoey a nudge. “Zoey? Are you okay?”
    Zoey sighed, stirred.
    “What time does your shift end?”
    Eyes glued shut, Zoey crawled out from under the counter. “Six.”
    “It’s almost six now.”
    “Shit.” She listed against T.J. “Thanks for covering for me, dude.”
    “Can you open your eyes? Ah, there you