bald statement clearly stunned the other woman. “Damn! You mean it got snatched?”
“Maybe,” Judith allowed. “Or you dropped it somewhere.”
Ruby held her head again. “What the hell is going on?”
Judith didn’t respond. She heard the front door open and Joe speak to a woman . . . and then a man. The voices were swallowed up in the stairwell as they moved to the second floor,
“The forensics specialists,” Judith murmured. “They’ll collect the specimens. If there are any.”
“I wish they could find my money, my credit cards, my cell phone, my ID, my . . .” Ruby’s bloodshot eyes welled up with tears. “Why do I always have such rotten luck?”
Judith reached across the table to put her hand on Ruby’s arm. “Hey—don’t make yourself sick. You’re here with us. We’ll get this sorted out somehow. You need to rest. As soon as they finish in your room, I’m going to put you to bed. Unless you’re hungry. Are you?”
Ruby wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m empty, but I’m not hungry.”
“I saved you some spare ribs.”
Ruby looked surprised. “You did? That was real nice of you. But maybe I’ll just have some toast.”
“Sure.” Judith got up. A glance at the old schoolhouse clock told her it was going on nine. Some of the guests would be returning soon. She grimaced, wondering how to explain the cruiser and a police department van parked by the B&B. “Maybe,” she said, after putting a slice of bread in the toaster, “you’ll remember some of what happened to you in the morning. Trauma often causes temporary amnesia.”
“Do I want to remember?” Ruby asked grimly.
“It might not be pleasant, but it is important, especially if a crime has been committed.”
Ruby looked jarred. “You mean maybe I was raped?”
“No,” Judith said quietly, “but somebody may have stolen your purse. How much money did you have in it?”
“A little over two hundred bucks,” Ruby replied. “Hey, wouldn’t somebody at that café know something? It’s the last thing I do remember.” She made a face. “Damn. I don’t recall the name . . . something about a cat, maybe.”
“That won’t be hard to find if it’s near the site of The Meat & Mingle.” She removed the toast and buttered it. “Jam? Jelly?”
“Why not?”
“Raspberry, strawberry, or blackberry?”
Ruby smiled. “Blackberry. If I didn’t feel so crappy, this would be kind of fun. Somebody’s waiting on me for a change instead of the other way around.”
Judith spread a thick layer of jelly on the toast, set it on a plate, and handed it to Ruby. “You may think of me as a sleuth or a tourist or a business owner, but basically, I’m just a glorified waitress and housekeeper. Oh—and a bartender when Dan and I owned The Meat & Mingle. But my real career used to be as a librarian. Let me check the computer for that restaurant.”
Ruby hadn’t eaten half the toast before Judith came up with a name. “The Persian Cat?”
“That’s right,” Ruby said, grinning. “The guy who seemed to be running it wore a turban. Maybe he’s Persian. Or would that be Indian? All those countries over there confuse me.”
“For all I know, he may’ve been born in the Thurlow District,” Judith said, jotting down the phone number. “That might explain his confusion about headgear. They could be closing about now. I think I’ll let Joe call the restaurant when he’s done with the police work. Assuming, of course, they’ll answer if it’s after hours. It’s best to get information as soon as possible from witnesses.”
“You sound like a cop.”
Judith shrugged. “I’ve lived with one for fifteen years.”
“That’s great. You guys seem happy.”
“We are.” She sat down. “We both had unhappy first marriages. We’d been engaged before we . . . got offtrack.” She grew silent, hearing voices in the entry hall. “The police may be leaving,” she said softly.
Judith was
“Maybe,” Judith allowed. “Or you dropped it somewhere.”
Ruby held her head again. “What the hell is going on?”
Judith didn’t respond. She heard the front door open and Joe speak to a woman . . . and then a man. The voices were swallowed up in the stairwell as they moved to the second floor,
“The forensics specialists,” Judith murmured. “They’ll collect the specimens. If there are any.”
“I wish they could find my money, my credit cards, my cell phone, my ID, my . . .” Ruby’s bloodshot eyes welled up with tears. “Why do I always have such rotten luck?”
Judith reached across the table to put her hand on Ruby’s arm. “Hey—don’t make yourself sick. You’re here with us. We’ll get this sorted out somehow. You need to rest. As soon as they finish in your room, I’m going to put you to bed. Unless you’re hungry. Are you?”
Ruby wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m empty, but I’m not hungry.”
“I saved you some spare ribs.”
Ruby looked surprised. “You did? That was real nice of you. But maybe I’ll just have some toast.”
“Sure.” Judith got up. A glance at the old schoolhouse clock told her it was going on nine. Some of the guests would be returning soon. She grimaced, wondering how to explain the cruiser and a police department van parked by the B&B. “Maybe,” she said, after putting a slice of bread in the toaster, “you’ll remember some of what happened to you in the morning. Trauma often causes temporary amnesia.”
“Do I want to remember?” Ruby asked grimly.
“It might not be pleasant, but it is important, especially if a crime has been committed.”
Ruby looked jarred. “You mean maybe I was raped?”
“No,” Judith said quietly, “but somebody may have stolen your purse. How much money did you have in it?”
“A little over two hundred bucks,” Ruby replied. “Hey, wouldn’t somebody at that café know something? It’s the last thing I do remember.” She made a face. “Damn. I don’t recall the name . . . something about a cat, maybe.”
“That won’t be hard to find if it’s near the site of The Meat & Mingle.” She removed the toast and buttered it. “Jam? Jelly?”
“Why not?”
“Raspberry, strawberry, or blackberry?”
Ruby smiled. “Blackberry. If I didn’t feel so crappy, this would be kind of fun. Somebody’s waiting on me for a change instead of the other way around.”
Judith spread a thick layer of jelly on the toast, set it on a plate, and handed it to Ruby. “You may think of me as a sleuth or a tourist or a business owner, but basically, I’m just a glorified waitress and housekeeper. Oh—and a bartender when Dan and I owned The Meat & Mingle. But my real career used to be as a librarian. Let me check the computer for that restaurant.”
Ruby hadn’t eaten half the toast before Judith came up with a name. “The Persian Cat?”
“That’s right,” Ruby said, grinning. “The guy who seemed to be running it wore a turban. Maybe he’s Persian. Or would that be Indian? All those countries over there confuse me.”
“For all I know, he may’ve been born in the Thurlow District,” Judith said, jotting down the phone number. “That might explain his confusion about headgear. They could be closing about now. I think I’ll let Joe call the restaurant when he’s done with the police work. Assuming, of course, they’ll answer if it’s after hours. It’s best to get information as soon as possible from witnesses.”
“You sound like a cop.”
Judith shrugged. “I’ve lived with one for fifteen years.”
“That’s great. You guys seem happy.”
“We are.” She sat down. “We both had unhappy first marriages. We’d been engaged before we . . . got offtrack.” She grew silent, hearing voices in the entry hall. “The police may be leaving,” she said softly.
Judith was
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