Page 65 of Christmas Mittens Murder

Thea nodded without smiling. Her face had the look of a hawk, with intense eyes and a curving nose. I thought she was probably closer to fifty than forty.

“Nice to meet you.” Cam stood and held out her hand. “I’m Cam Flaherty.”

Thea slid off her stool to shake hands. I blinked again. Cam had to be five foot ten. Thea, who wore tight black jeans and a Levi’s jacket, was two inches taller than Cam. Her cropped spiked hair gave her still more height. At five foot eight, I didn’t usually feel diminutive. I did right now.

“Would you like to join Cece and me, Thea?” Cam sat and scooted in on the bench.

“Please do. I’m Cece Barton.” I smiled.

Thea seemed to assess us. “All right. Thank you.” She grabbed her coffee and joined us, sitting next to Cam.

Ed returned with our drinks and asked for our orders. “Got it. Veggie tamale plate for Cece, California burger for Cam, hold the raw onion, and Colinas Benedict for Thea. Back in a flash, ladies.”

Cam and I did a quick glass clink, and I took a sip of a thick, dark libation that went down perfectly.

“What’s Colinas Benedict, Thea?” I asked.

“Like eggs Benedict, but with locally made thick-cut bacon instead of Canadian and the addition of avocado.”

“It sounds great.” Except for the bacon. I’m a vegetarian who eats fish, but I’d be willing to bet Ed would sub in smoked salmon for me instead of the pork product next time I was in.

“So, ladies, what did you hear about me?” Thea folded her hands on the table. She breathed through her mouth, as if her sinuses were stuffed up.

“Cece and I met in Vino y Vida yesterday,” Cam began.

“I get it.” Thea’s mouth pulled into a line. “Val was bad-mouthing me again.”

“Not exactly,” I ventured. “But she didn’t seem to support the direction you want to take the garden club.”

“She needs to go, and soon.” Thea drained her coffee. “Hey, Ed, can I get a Bloody Mary, please? And make it weak on the tomato juice.”

“The club doesn’t have room for both of you?” Cam asked.

“No. Val wants to keep us in the white-lady white-glove era. I want our local Hmong farmers to join, and the women who run Gaia Vineyards, and everyone in between.”

The door clanged open, making the bell on it ring furiously. Allie stood casting her glance around. She spotted me and hurried down the aisle.

“Hey, Al.” I smiled at her. “You’re in time for lunch.”

My twin slid in next to me. “I can’t eat.”

“Why not?” I took a second look at her. She wasn’t projecting her usual nicely put-together real estate agent look right now. Her cap of well-cut (and touched-up) blond hair was windblown, and not in a stylish way. Her face was pale under ill-applied makeup. Her earrings didn’t match, her Patagonia sweatshirt was zipped up to the neck—very not Allie—and her navy slacks had a smudge of chocolate on the knee. One might expect disarray from a mom of twin ten-year-old boys, but not from this particular mother, Alicia Halstead. “Allie, are the boys okay?”

“What? They’re fine. They’re at school. Hey, Thea, Cam.”

Ed brought our plates and Thea’s drink. “Get you anything, Allie?”

“If that’s a Bloody Mary, I want what Thea’s having.”

He went behind the counter, but he kept an eye on Allie, and his ears attuned, too, I suspected.

“There’s no way around this.” Allie looked at Thea and at Cam. She rested her gaze on me. “Val Harper was murdered during the night.”

Chapter Three

My breath rushed in. Cam, frowning, brought a hand to her mouth. Ed delivered Allie’s drink.

“Terrible news,” he said softly.

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