Page 26 of 25 Alive

“Correct. Sadie was first of the three—that we know about.”

I finished Cindy’s thought in my mind. If the killer wasn’t caught, he would kill again.

CHAPTER41

IT WAS HALF past six when the four of us met at Jackson and Sansome Streets. All that remained of the light outside was a swath of pink near the horizon. But inside, we were drawn to the bright light shining through Susie’s picture windows. When we pushed open the restaurant’s big glass door and filed into the sunshine-colored Caribbean-style restaurant, it was as if a new day had dawned.

The walls were hung with rustic paintings of Jamaican markets, and the atmosphere was alive with happy talk and the aroma of island cuisine. This was our place, what we thought of as the Women’s Murder Club headquarters.

A dozen after-work bar regulars shouted out hellos, as did Fireman, the beefy young bartender who might have a crush on Yuki, remembered everything, and kept it all to himself.

Susie, the owner and creator of this haven, was a tall, athletic blonde with blue eyes and a great smile. She was setting up for the nightly limbo competition but stopped to call out,“Hey, girlfriends! Your table is waiting, and tonight the beer is on the house.”

“Awwww, you don’t have to do that,” Claire said.

Susie gathered us into a group hug, saying, “Richie called to say you were on the way. I’m so sorry about what happened to your friend.”

We returned Susie’s hugs, then crossed from the main room into the narrow corridor by the kitchen, leading to the smaller dining room at the back, and the booth we called ours. We slid onto a pair of banquettes, and by the time our usual irrepressible waitress, Lorraine O’Dea, arrived with beer and chips, we were ready to drink. More than ready. I hadn’t been this sad since my mother died.

Cindy said, “There’s going to be some serious drinking tonight, Lorraine. What do you recommend? Start with margs and then go to the beer? Or chase the beer down with tequila?”

“Don’t anyone try to keep me from Margaritaville,” Yuki said as if it were a genuine threat. She was the margarita drinker in our crowd.

I gave her a little shove while Cindy shouted, “Permission granted to Yuki for two margaritas. Or three. And that goes for all of us. Okay, Yuki?”

Yuki confirmed Cindy’s suggestion with two thumbs up.

CHAPTER42

“IF YOU’REREALLYasking my advice,” Lorraine said to the table, “I suggest you guys work on the drinks and chips and trust me with the dinner menu. Okay?”

I was starving. “We do trust you, Lorraine. Food. Hurry.”

I poured each of us a beer, and we raised our frosted mugs of brew.

Claire said, “To Jacobi, with love. May he rest in peace.”

I added, “May we find his goddamn killer, forthwith.”

Claire reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Soon enough, Lorraine and Maria, her new waitressing understudy, were back with trays of lechon asado and arroz con pollo, a big basket of warm rolls, and sides of salad for all.

Yuki had her phone in her hand, crying as she looked at a photo of herself with Jacobi, when Fireman appeared beside our table and placed a watermelon margarita in front of her. Yuki patted her eyes with a paper napkin, noticed the margarita, lifted it to her mouth, and downed it. She held out the glass and said to Fireman, “Hit me again.”

Minutes later, Fireman brought Yuki her second margarita.

She didn’t acknowledge the bartender but made the drink disappear with only slightly less lightning speed. Then she slumped against the seat back and wiped away new tears with her hand. I put my left arm around her shoulders.

For a while, the four of us ate and drank in silence, giving all our attention to the food. But memories of Jacobi started creeping back in.

Cindy signaled to Lorraine and pointed at the pitcher, meaning,More beer.

Claire asked, “What are you thinking about, Lindsay?”

“Larkin Street,” I said.

Claire nodded. Everyone at the table knew about what had happened on Larkin Street, a traffic stop that had almost killed me and Jacobi. Two teens had crashed; the driver was a fifteen-year-old girl without a license. I’d asked her for her learner’s permit. She’d put her hand inside her jacket, and instead of a permit, she’d pulled out a gun.

And shot me repeatedly.

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