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wouldn’t have been the first. I’m sure the guy will show
up if he really cares about his things.”
    “ You’re probably right.”
Dewey lit up a Spirit and blew the smoke off to the side. “I think
Mrs. Callahan is hoping I might find some answers while I’m poking
around. That’s between you and me, of course. It’s something that
usually comes with the territory. You learn a lot about someone
going through all their things and meeting their friends and
family.”
    “ I can
imagine.”
    “ When was the last time
you saw her?” Dewey noticed her tensing up, and he knew he needed
to back off the interrogation. “Did you get a chance to spend any
quality time with her before she died?”
    “ We worked out together
Thursday, the day before she…you know. She was supposed to come to
dinner with a bunch of us to celebrate my birthday but she said she
couldn’t. Even though she’d already promised me. That wasn’t like
her. And then she was dead. I guess she had already decided on
killing herself, but it seemed weird to work out the day
before.”
    “ She didn’t tell you why
she was cancelling?”
    “ She is the queen of
vague. She said something personal was going on and didn’t
elaborate. I called her a bitch and walked away.” She took a deep
breath. “That’s the last thing I ever said to my best
friend.”
    “ That’s tough.” Dewey had
an urge to argue with her and try to show that she had nothing to
regret. People never know when someone is going to die, and
arguments are a part of life. But Dewey held back, knowing that
sometimes women just want to vent. Yes: Dewey, the Woman Whisperer.
He encouraged the venting by saying, “If you could only take it
back, right?”
    “ Yeah,
exactly.”
    Good job, Dewey. Now go in
for another question . “What time was it
that y’all left the gym?”
    She wiped her eyes. “We always go from seven
to eight, just before I have to work.”
    As the tears began to fall, Dewey’s success
in getting anything more out of her dwindled. After about fifteen
more minutes, he wished her well and hit the road.
     
    ***
     
    Dewey drove back over to Gina’s. Candice was
sitting on the porch just like last time, her legs kicked up on the
table, her eyes on her book.
    “ Still hooked?” Dewey
asked.
    “ Hey, there. Yes, I’m
hooked badly.”
    Dewey kept walking to Gina’s door, trying to
indicate he was in a hurry. “No one came by?”
    “ Not that I’ve seen. Can I
offer you a cup of tea?”
    “ No, thanks. I’m in a
rush.”
    “ What a shame,” she said
with disappointment.
    Was she hitting on him? He
dropped the key twice before finally getting it into the lock. Why hadn’t they done
that when he was young and single?
    Making it inside
unscathed, Dewey went straight to the trash can in the kitchen.
He’d seen something that had stood out in his mind the last time.
Trying not to inhale too much of the odors, he began digging.
Finally, after several dry heaves, he pulled out a receipt from
Common Ground, a coffee shop in Beaufort, South Carolina. It was
time stamped at 11:32 a.m. the Thursday before, not too long after
Gina had left the gym in Charleston. The day before she jumped.
What most interested Dewey was that she’d bought two coffees.
    He was building a theory in his head and her
going to Beaufort fit into it nicely. Judging by the secretive
nature of the relationship, it looked like she was sleeping with
someone she shouldn’t have been seeing. Was he married? Was he
older? Was he high-profile? She hadn’t even told her best friend
about him. What else could it be? So they were having some kind of
discreet affair and they were meeting out-of-town. Beaufort made a
lot of sense. It was a sleepy, romantic little town that was what
Charleston was fifty years ago. The kind of place you might have a
nice sultry affair—as long as you were careful not to run into any
other visitors from Charleston that you might know.
    Dewey looked at his phone.