Full Dark, No Stars

“No, sorry. Maybe you stashed it under the seat, or something? We only look in the glove compartments, and of course we can’t even do that if the car is locked. Yours wasn’t, and your phone number

was on the insurance card. But probably you know that. Maybe you’l find your purse at home.” Neal’s voice suggested that this wasn’t likely. “One photo ID wil be okay if it looks like you, I guess.”

Neal led Tess to a door at the back of the coat area, then down a narrow curving corridor that skirted the main room. There were more band photos on the wal s. At one point they passed through a

fume of chlorine that stung Tess’s eyes and tender throat.

“If you think the johns smel now, you should be here when the joint is going ful tilt,” Neal said, then added, “Oh, I forgot—you were.”

Tess made no comment.

At the end of the hal way was a door marked OFFICE STAFF ONLY. The room beyond was large, pleasant, and fil ed with morning sunshine. A framed picture of Barack Obama hung on the wal ,

above a bumper sticker bearing the YES WE CAN slogan. Tess couldn’t see her cab—the building was in the way—but she could see its shadow.

That’s good. Stay right there and get your ten bucks. And if I don’t come out, don’t come in. Just call the police.

Neal went to the desk in the corner and sat down. “Let’s see your ID.”

Tess opened her purse, fumbled past the .38, and brought out her passport and her Authors Guild card. Neal gave the passport photo only a cursory glance, but when she saw the Guild card, her eyes

widened. “You’re the Wil ow Grove lady!”

Tess smiled gamely. It hurt her lips. “Guilty as charged.” Her voice sounded foggy, as though she were getting over a bad cold.

“My gran loves those books!”

“Many grans do,” Tess said. “When the affection final y filters down to the next generation—the one not currently living on fixed incomes—I’m going to buy myself a château in France.”

Sometimes this earned her a smile. Not from Ms. Neal, however. “I hope that didn’t happen here.” She wasn’t more specific and didn’t have to be. Tess knew what she was talking about, and Betsy

Neal knew she knew.

Tess thought of revisiting the story she’d already told Patsy—the beeping smoke detector alarm, the cat under her feet, the col ision with the newel post—and didn’t bother. This woman had a look of

daytime efficiency about her and probably visited The Stagger Inn as infrequently as possible during its hours of operation, but she was clearly under no il usions about what sometimes happened here

when the hour grew late and the guests grew drunk. She was, after al , the one who came in early on Saturday mornings to make the courtesy cal s. She had probably heard her share of morning-after

stories featuring midnight stumbles, slips in the shower, etc., etc.

“Not here,” Tess said. “Don’t worry.”

“Not even in the parking lot? If you ran into trouble there, I’l have to have Mr. Rumble talk with the security staff. Mr. Rumble’s the boss, and security’s supposed to check the video monitors regularly on busy nights.”

“It happened after I left.”

I really do have to make the report anonymously now, if I mean to report it at all. Because I’m lying, and she’ll remember.

If she meant to report it at al ? Of course she did. Right?

“I’m very sorry.” Neal paused, seeming to debate with herself. Then she said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but you probably don’t have any business in a place like this to begin with. It didn’t turn out so wel for you, and if it got into the papers… wel , my gran would be very disappointed.”

Tess agreed. And because she could embel ish convincingly (it was the talent that paid the bil s, after al ), she did. “A bad boyfriend is sharper than a serpent’s tooth. I think the Bible says that. Or maybe it’s Dr. Phil. In any case, I’ve broken up with him.”

“A lot of women say that, then weaken. And a guy who does it once—”

“Wil do it again. Yes, I know, I was very foolish. If you don’t have my purse, what property of mine do you have?”

Ms. Neal turned in her swivel chair (the sun licked across her face, momentarily highlighting those unusual blue eyes), opened one of her file cabinets, and brought out Tom the Tomtom. Tess was

delighted to see her old traveling buddy. It didn’t make things al better, but it was a step in the right direction.

“We’re not supposed to remove anything from patrons’ cars, just get the address and the phone number if we can, then lock it up, but I didn’t like to leave this. Thieves don’t mind breaking a window to get a particularly tasty item, and it was sitting right there on your dashboard.”

“Thank you.” Tess felt tears springing into her eyes behind her dark glasses and wil ed them back. “That was very thoughtful.”