Give us a break. Tell me you’re just passing through.
I swallowed my feelings and managed a smile. “Looks like you’re on your way somewhere.”
She gave a casual toss of her head. “Actually, I was thinking I might hang out here until after Christmas. In Pecan Springs, I mean. I’d like to spend some time with Brian.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “What’s it been since you’ve seen him?” Pointedly, I added, “Two years, isn’t it?”
She shifted her weight. “Something like that. Gosh, I’ll bet he’s grown.”
“He has. Two years is a long time in a boy’s life.” I leaned forward. “A very long time.”
A burst of laughter and the scrape of a chair came from the tearoom, and Sally glanced over her shoulder. “Listen, China,” she said in a lower voice. “I wonder if we could talk.”
Rats, I thought to myself. Here it comes. “What do you want to talk about?”
She cleared her throat. “Privately. Not here.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, Sally. I’m a working girl, and today is a workday. In about ten minutes, customers will be coming through that tearoom door, and I’d love to see them buy a thing or two. In the meantime, I’m trying to finish an article for the newspaper. If you don’t mind—”
“After work, then.” Her voice thinned. “Look, China. I know how you feel about me. I know I haven’t always been a good mom to Brian. I . . . I know I’ve caused you and Mike a lot of unnecessary unhappiness.” She swallowed. “Please believe me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
It’s always important, I wanted to shout. Important to you, that is. Brian isn’t important, McQuaid isn’t important, it’s always you, Sally. Just you. Or Juanita, or whoever the hell you are today.
But I didn’t. Instead, I said, as evenly as I could manage, “Well, okay, then. I can probably take a break about three thirty or four o’clock. Want to come back then?”
Her face cleared, and she smiled. “Yes, sure. Oh, gosh, China, thank you!” She turned to go. “Three o’clock. I’ll see you then.”
“Don’t forget your duffle,” I said.
She bent over and picked it up. It was obviously heavy. I hesitated, and then relented. “If you want to leave it here until you come back, you can stick it behind the counter. I don’t think anybody will bother it.”
Her smile was broadly relieved. “Oh, thank you, China,” she said again. “You’re a lifesaver.”
No, I’m not, I thought grimly. I am definitely not a lifesaver. And whatever it is you’ve come for, Sally Jean Strahorn, you are not going to get it.
I was wrong. On both counts.
Chapter Two
McQuaid: A New Case
Mike McQuaid leaned back in his office chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and frowned at the pile of exams on the desk in front of him.
Social Deviance. He liked the course. He had met more than his share of deviants in this world, and he liked being able to explain, at least to himself, what made them tick. But one of the older professors in the department had taught the class until he retired last year, and he’d always made it far too easy. Unfortunately, that reputation still lingered. Droves of frat rats signed up for it, expecting a takeaway B, even an A, especially when they found copies of the quizzes—mostly short answer or multiple choice—in the frat files. But McQuaid didn’t teach the class that way, and after the frats had flunked the first test on illegal drugs, a dozen of them had dropped the course.
The drops weren’t a problem, as far as McQuaid was concerned, since they meant fewer poorly written papers for him to read. The department chair (who kept urging the faculty to generate more semester credit hours, so he could defend the department’s budget against the dean’s red pencil) had not been too happy. But then, Lyle (Lyle Ellis, the chair) hadn’t been too happy when McQuaid dropped back to part-time. He didn’t like the idea that an associate professor