face lay in shadow but light streamed through her wispy white hair, creating something like a halo about her head.
"Are you talking to me?" Jennifer asked.
"Of course, I'm talking to you. Do you see anyone else in here?" The woman leaned forward bringing her wrinkled face into the light. "Now bring your coffee over here and sit with me for a spell."
What was she to do? Say "Don't bother me. I'm in the middle of planning a murder"?
She took a big swallow of coffee and carried the cup over to the booth. "I'm sorry, but—"
"Sit."
Jennifer slid onto the heavy brown vinyl.
"Now what do you think you're doing drinking coffee in your condition?"
"My condition? Oh, no. You don't understand. I'm not pregnant. I'm just—"
"It's nothing to be ashamed of these days, child. I see that there's no wedding ring on your finger. It's better to just admit what you've done and get on with your life. Better for both you and the baby. You are keeping it?"
Keeping what? The towel? Okay, so her disguise wasn't what she had in mind, but why not go with the flow? If the police came looking for a pregnant woman, it certainly wouldn't be Jennifer Marsh.
"Did your boyfriend leave you?"
"Boyfriend?"
"Your baby's father, dear. Did he leave you? You seem so lost and forlorn."
"No, of course not."
"Then he's standing by you. That's so admirable in today's climate of irresponsibility."
"No, not exactly."
"Oh, my, my." The old lady found Jennifer's hand and clasped it firmly in hers. "You can tell Aunt Emmie about it. He didn't have one of those sex changes…"
"He's dead. Dead and gone. Buried. And I don't want to talk about it." Lying was not easy, especially to a tenderhearted old lady who wanted to know her towel had a good future.
Aunt Emmie patted Jennifer's hand.
"Grrrrrrrr."
Jennifer studied Emmie's beatific face. "Did you just growl at me?"
"No, silly. Tiger is jealous." She dropped Jennifer's hand and lifted her large pocketbook from beside her and onto the tabletop. A black nose, two potato-chip ears, and tiny black eyes on a head about the size of an orange popped out of the bag. "Grrrrr." Canine teeth the thickness of toothpicks curled up over a thin upper lip.
Jennifer jerked back. "What in the—"
"Well, I'm not quite sure. I'm fairly certain he's a dog. I found him, you see, on the street near here. I thought he was a pup but that was two years ago.
"And you kept him?"
"What was I to do? Leave the poor soul to starve to death?"
Sure. Why not? Any creature that looked like a leftover from a horror movie should not be encouraged, and definitely not fed. She'd seen Gremlins .
"I don't know what you should have done, but carrying it around in your purse—"
"Shhhh." Aunt Emmie snapped the purse shut and returned it to the bench as the lady behind the counter approached the booth.
"More tea, Mrs. Walker?"
Mrs. Walker's purse gave an unnatural lurch to the left.
"No thank you, Lori. We're just fine over here." She waved the woman away.
Mrs. Walker reached down and opened her purse so the life-form could breathe.
"They don't like animals in here."
Jennifer didn't like animals in here, either. "It's been very pleasant talking with you, Mrs. Walker… and meeting Tiger, but I'm only here for the morning from Macon, and I really must—"
"Must you, dear? I get so little company and I hardly get out any more, just once a day to come down here for tea and sometimes a biscuit. I'll have to be going soon myself before I get too tired. And I forgot my cane. I'll have to wait until the crowd breaks outside before I venture back to my building by myself, and that could be almost two o'clock."
Jennifer sighed inwardly. She should be thinking about murder— murder —not helping some poor old lady back to her apartment building. But she couldn't leave the woman to sit all alone in the dark for another four hours. The woman walked—without her cane—so her apartment couldn't be that far away.
"Let me help you home,"