Her Better Half

I glanced back at the big, broad-shouldered guy behind the counter. He hadn’t shaved in about two days. His hair was on the long side, but it had been brushed, and his hands looked clean, too, I was relieved to note when he slid a coffee cup in front of me. He proceeded to fill it without even asking if I wanted any.

“You’re Erin’s new neighbor, I take it?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. I don’t get many customers who wear pearls.”

I put a hand to my throat. Gary had given me the necklace for our ten-year anniversary. For some reason I hadn’t been able to take it off since I’d signed the divorce papers. I’d removed my rings, storing them in the deposit box at the bank for the girls when they were older.

But the pearls I hadn’t been able to part with. They were the last link to my past, to the person I’d been.

“You okay?”

Murphy was looking at me as if he found me strange. Gathering my composure, I held out my hand. “Lauren Holloway.”

“Murphy Jones.”

His grip felt overwhelming, calloused, warm.

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Was that a smirk at the corner of his mouth? It came and went so quickly, I couldn’t tell for sure. “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “This is a nice place. Have you been open here long?”

“A nice place, huh? I’m glad you think so.” Murphy tossed me a menu. “Take a look and give me a shout when you know what you want.”

I watched him head for the kitchen, noting narrow hips and long legs. An order pad and a pencil peeked out the back pocket of his jeans.

I glanced around again, and several of the other customers quickly averted their heads. No doubt I stood out from the usual Murphy’s Grill patron in my skirt and heels. Perhaps I should have gone for a more casual look.

Bells above the door jangled and Erin entered. Now she was dressed exactly right for this place, in a tight faded jean skirt and several layered tank tops. Her left wrist was covered in silver bangles and her dark hair curled madly in the late summer humidity.

“You found it okay?”

“Hard to miss.” I moved my purse and Erin scooted onto the stool next to me. The guy on the next stool over took great interest in Erin crossing her legs.

“And was I right about the coffee? Better than Starbucks, huh?”

“Twice as strong and half the price,” Murphy said, appearing in time to fill Erin’s travel mug just as she finished unscrewing the lid. “You gals want steak sandwiches?”

“Have you got anything better to offer?” Erin asked.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll have a steak sandwich. Have you met Lauren?”

“We’ve met. What do you say, Lauren? Steak sandwich?”

I wondered about the relationship between these two. There was a tension in their body language that belied the nonchalance of the conversation. I opened the menu and scanned the lunch selections. “How about a BLT?”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

As soon as he’d moved on to give our orders to the kitchen, Erin squeezed my arm. “So? Are you excited?”

My stomach started up with the gyrations again.

“Your first stakeout.” Erin sounded like a proud mother. “I remember my first time. It was kind of a letdown to tell you the truth.”

“Must have been with the wrong guy,” Murphy said, returning to his position behind the counter.

“Oh shut up and cook eggs or something. For your information we weren’t talking about sex.”

The guy next to Erin was openly staring now. Erin turned her back to him.

“Um.” I leaned in close to her so I wouldn’t be overheard. “What is our assignment, exactly?” Erin had been very sketchy with details up to this point.

“It’s a simple adultery case.”

Oh, really? Simple adultery. As compared to what…complicated adultery? I wondered if I would ever take this work as cavalierly as Erin appeared to.

I took another sip of my coffee and it was all I could do not to make a face. It was so bitter and sharp compared to the lattes I preferred. How did Erin drink such quantities of this stuff? Still, I supposed I’d better get used to it. On my budget I could no longer afford Starbucks. “So what do I do?”

Erin removed an envelope from the canvas pack she’d been carrying. “Sherry Frampton hired me a week ago. She thinks her husband’s been cheating on her and she wants us to prove it. I’ve got all the background information in here, but what I want you to focus on is the photograph of her husband. You need to get to know that picture. In the dark it can be hard to make sure you’ve got the right man.”

I studied the candid shot of a nice, ordinary-looking man in a suit. He was probably in his late thirties, clean-shaven, with brown hair.

“We’re going to hang out at the home of his suspected girlfriend. If he shows up, we shoot some video. It’s not complicated.”

Was she kidding? I searched her expression for a hint of humor, but Erin really seemed to think this was all humdrum stuff.

Murphy arrived with the food. “Eat every bite,” he admonished Erin, before leaving to serve another customer.

Here was advice that I agreed with. Erin was far too thin. Yet, she tucked into the sandwich with what seemed to be a healthy appetite.

I compared her plate to mine and too late I realized I’d made a mistake with the BLT. I’d never seen anything that looked as limp and greasy.

“So how do we do this?” I asked.

“Just pick it up and eat it. No fancy table manners required at Murphy’s.”

“No, I meant the stakeout. What do we do if a neighbor notices us hanging around?” They could call the police, and what would we do then?

“Neighbors are pretty clueless as a rule. But if they do go so far as to phone in a complaint, I’ll handle the cops, no problem.” She cut into her sandwich then looked at me. “You aren’t eating.”

I nibbled at the tasteless white bread, fried with too much grease, not enough heat. Would it have killed the produce budget to add a thicker slice of tomato? I fought the urge to spit the food back onto the plate.

“Try some of this, honey.” Erin pushed the ketchup bottle closer. “And next time you might want to order the steak sandwich.”

“But I don’t eat red meat.”