Her Better Half

“Right.” I was primed for action but, as minute followed minute, my adrenaline rush began to fade. I needed to talk or I was going to fall asleep.

“When did you get into the P.I. business, Erin?”

“About ten years ago I started working for this guy, Harvey Westman. He was quite a character, but he was mostly legit and he taught me the ropes. When he had a heart attack, I took over the business.”

Something in Erin’s voice suggested that this Harvey had been special to her. “Were you and Harvey friends?”

“Sure.”

I hesitated. “More than friends?

“Harvey had twenty years on me.”

Not a straight answer, which made me all the more curious. Could Harvey have been Shelley’s father? I didn’t quite dare to ask the question.

Erin’s hand clamped on my arm a split second before I noticed the same thing she had. The front door to the Tudor home was opening. Martin stepped out to the landing and, as Erin had guessed, the woman gave him a goodbye kiss, right underneath the bright porch light.

I got it all on video, but couldn’t manage to get a clear facial shot of either of them. Once the woman had gone back inside and Martin had driven off, I handed the camera back to Erin.

“I don’t think that was very good.”

“We tried. It just goes that way sometimes.” She scrambled out of the bush and started pulling twigs from her hair.

As we walked back to her car, I asked what had happened to Harvey after his heart attack.

“He died,” she said matter-of-factly. “He had no family and we were close, so he named me as his beneficiary—there was a will and everything. That’s how I got the business…and enough money for a down payment on my house.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“Better than most.”

Pretty cynical, I thought. Then again, my opinion of men wasn’t much better these days. Maybe Erin and I had something in common after all.

CHAPTER 4

T hough I didn’t get home until after one, the next morning I forced myself out of bed in time to make the girls’ lunches. Last night Erin had carried a sleeping Shelley home to her own bed, so it was just the three of us, as usual.

Devin was already at the table, eating her bowl of cereal. Five minutes later, when it was time to leave for the bus, Jamie rushed into the room.

“Do we have any muffins? My alarm clock didn’t work. Mom, can you get me a new one?”

So easy to say, I reflected. And only a year ago, I would have added the item to my shopping list and picked one up at the Bay without a further thought.

“I’ll take a look at it later. And yes, we have muffins.” I passed her a bran one. “And here’s your lunch.”

Devin stuffed her sandwich, fruit and cookies into her knapsack without comment. Jamie stared at hers in disgust.

“I hate bringing a lunch to work. All the other swim instructors buy theirs.”

I refused to feel guilty. “If a cafeteria lunch is that important to you, then buy it with your own money.”

“Mom’s lunches are better.” Devin gave me a kiss, then headed for the door.

Jamie stared after her, lips curled dismissively. “She is such a suck.”

My first instinct was to defend Devin. But I knew that would only escalate the sibling rivalry. So, I aimed for a lighter tone. “Come on, Jamie, admit it. You love Mommy’s lunches, too.”

Though Jamie shook her head and rolled her eyes, I saw a hint of a smile.

“Have a nice day, Mom. I’m out of here.”

A few seconds later, the front door slammed, and I was alone in the house. I hesitated a moment, wondering if I should just crawl back into bed. I had the morning free since I wasn’t meeting Erin to discuss our next case until one o’clock.

In the months after Gary left, I’d spent many mornings that way, tucked under the covers, trying not to think about how I was going to fill the hours until the girls came home from school. I didn’t want to fall back into that pattern.

What I needed was coffee. I went to the cupboard and pulled out the tin of economy blend that I’d compromised on in an effort to keep the grocery bill under control.

I started to measure out the right number of scoops, but after the first one I stopped. The idea of sitting in this run-down kitchen by myself and gulping down a pot of cheap coffee was so unappealing.

A moment later I made my decision. Since the divorce, I’d given up Belgian chocolate, fashion magazines and organic produce. I was not going to give up my coffee, as well.

I’d had my heart set on something that combined coffee, chocolate, caramel sauce and whipped cream. Unfortunately, I could not find a café that sold specialty coffees anywhere in my new neighborhood. I still didn’t want to go back to my lonely house, though. In resignation I found myself returning to Murphy’s Grill.

At least I would fit in with the crowd better today, with my jeans and casual, though admittedly silk, T-shirt. When I’d been putting on my earrings, I’d thought about taking off my necklace, but pearls were supposed to go with anything so I’d left them on.

As I entered the small establishment I wasn’t too surprised to find Erin seated at the counter facing the kitchen.

She twisted in her seat and gave a weary wave. “Why do kids have to wake up so bloody early?” She took a long swallow of her coffee.

I perched on the stool next to her, setting the alarm clock I’d brought with me on the counter. “I used to consider myself a morning person. Now, I’m not so sure. So where is Shelley?”

“Day camp at the community center.”

Murphy emerged from the kitchen with two plates loaded with eggs, toast, bacon and hash browns. He hesitated for a second when he spotted me.

He’d shaved. And he looked good. Nice jaw, strong cheekbones. He was wearing a plaid shirt again, but a different one.

I wondered why I found him so attractive when he was completely different from any man I’d ever dated. Not that there’d been that many.

Maybe he got to me for the oldest reason in the book. Because I clearly didn’t get to him. His indifference bugged me.

“Addicted already?” he said as he passed by on his way to his waiting customers.

I noticed they tucked into their breakfasts as if they hadn’t seen food in a week.

“The breakfast special is the only other edible thing on the menu,” Erin said, not seeming to care that she was speaking loudly enough for others—including Murphy—to hear.

Remembering my greasy BLT from yesterday, I asked, “The other being the steak sandwich? You could have warned me.”