Page 31 of Water's Edge

“If you’re looking for anyone, they ain’t here.” She smiles when she says this, which makes me smile. “Prince Harry and Meghan will be here tomorrow.”

She rubs her hand on her apron and holds it out. “Cass.”

“Megan. And this is Ronnie.” I don’t know why I introduced us by our first names. Reflex. She is Cass; we are Megan and Ronnie.

“I know who you are. Lonigan told me you were coming.”

“He was going to meet us here. I guess he got busy.”

Cass smirks. “Yeah. Busy. Sure. If you say so. I’ve called Joe. He should be here shortly. He’s out breaking arms, collecting rent.”

I notice her expression is more serious when she talks about Joe Bobbsey. She doesn’t like him.

“Do you know about how long he’ll be? We need to show him a picture.”

“You can show it to me if it’s of Leann. She comes in on Sundays. Like clockwork, that one.”

I exchange a look with Ronnie. “The picture is of a deceased woman. You might—”

“Honey, I’ve been around. I’ve seen dead people. Let’s see it.”

I have brought the file folder in with me. I open it and take out a five-by-seven-inch close-up of the victim’s face. Cass barely looks at it.

“Yeah. That’s Leann all right. Poor girl. Poor, poor little thing.” In the next breath: “I forgot my manners. Lonigan said you might want to eat. Even detectives have to eat lunch.”

“We really just need to see Joe and ask some questions.” When I say this, I can see the disappointment on Ronnie’s face. There is a plastic display case filled with pastries and, best of all, big cinnamon rolls smothered in white icing. “But maybe we can have one of the cinnamon rolls you have there.”

“You’ll have time to eat if you want to talk to Joe. He’s on Joe time. He’ll get here when he gets here. I told him to hurry up, but he won’t.” She mutters something I can’t quite hear. “Let me get you a proper lunch.”

Cass disappears through a door. I hear plates clack and smell something heavenly. She’s back in less than a couple of minutes and carrying two platters filled with food.

“Have a seat over by the stove. You’ll have to eat on your lap. Everyone does. It’s kind of a thing here.” She laughs again and I find myself chuckling along with her. I can’t help it. I’ve eaten on my lap in cars for years. Ronnie sits down and accepts her platter and silverware like she’s holding a baby for the first time and doesn’t know quite what to do with it. I dig in.

Meat loaf, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn fried in butter that tastes like it was cut fresh off the cob. Lonigan didn’t lie. It isn’t exactly a restaurant. It’s better than a restaurant.

“How about seconds?”

I wave her away. My mouth is full. My stomach equally so. Ronnie keeps her fingers over her lips and shakes her head. I look at the wall clock. We’ve been here for twenty minutes. Still no Bobbsey. Cass returns with more coffee, and a bell dings over the door.

“Joe’s here,” Cass says, and goes to the counter.

Joe Bobbsey isn’t anything like I’d pictured him. From the way everyone talks about him, I expected a hick farmer with a round belly and thinning hair, wearing a green John Deere cap and chawing on Red Man. Joe is six feet, 170 pounds, and fortyish, with blond hair touching his collar, blue eyes, and a lumberjack’s beard.

He looks at Ronnie’s plate. “How ’bout a piece of that pie?”

“Fresh out,” Cass says, and leans down, elbows on the counter. She looks like a barkeep in an old Western. She motions with her head in my direction. “You have to talk to them.”

“I don’thaveto do anything, Cass. I’m here as a courtesy to Ray. I support the police in my own way.”

“Yeah. Right. I guess you rent your cabins to honest, God-fearing folks and not to scum of the earth that break into my store or shoplift or get into fights in my parking lot, driving my business away.”

“Cass, I don’t run a police background check on people that want to rent a fishing cabin. I’ve got a business to run, just like you.”

Cass scoffed. “Like me…”

“I guess you check out all your customers. All the people that rent from me come here for supplies. My customers are your customers. So I guess you’re guilty same as me. We’ve been through this.”

“You’re right. Go talk to those ladies. I’m busy.” Cass goes into the back room.

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