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“If you put in your order right away, it’ll probably come out when mine does,” Skye suggested, then asked Tomi, who had just walked up, “Right?”

When Tomi nodded, Emmy shoved away the menu and said, “Great. I’ll have the ribs, coleslaw, and a loaded baked potato.”

“Coffee?” Tomi gestured with the pot she held in her left hand.

“I guess so.” Emmy giggled. “If you served drinks, tonight I’d say, ‘Step aside, java. This is a job for alcohol.’”

After Tomi filled Emmy’s cup and left, Skye searched her mind for a topic of conversation.

Before Skye could think of anything, Emmy wiggled in her seat until she was comfy, then said, “How are the shooting lessons going?”

“I decided to put those off for a while.” Skye reflexively placed her hand on her stomach, then quickly removed it. They really did have to announce the pregnancy soon, before she inadvertently did something to spill the beans.

“Oh. Yeah. About that. I hope you weren’t mad about the whole recoil thing.” Emmy’s expression was a little sheepish. “It’s sort of a joke we play on all the newbies. I promise not to do it again.”

“I wasn’t upset,” Skye assured her. So Kathy Steele had been right. Emmy
had
given that gun to her on purpose. She would need to keep that in mind in dealing with the mischievous dancer. “The lessons just aren’t convenient right now.”

Emmy glanced around. “Is that handsome husband of yours here?”

“Nope.” Skye fought to keep the smile on her face. “He’s busy on a case.”

“That’s a shame,” Emmy purred. “He hasn’t been out to the club in quite a while either.”

“Well . . .” Skye gave Emmy a long look. “You know how it is with newlyweds.” She wasn’t sure if she was making casual conversation or warning the strikingly sexy woman away from her man. “Since I haven’t been interested in shooting, he’d rather stay home with me than go fondle some pistol or rifle by himself.”

“There I go again. Sorry about that.” Emmy blew out a frustrated breath. “Sometimes I forget to take off my professional persona.”

“Do you have a stage name?” Skye examined the tall, lithe woman, hoping that by
professional
she meant
burlesque
dancer, not something else.

“I’m considering Willow St. André.” Emmy tossed her ponytail. “What do you think?”

“Nice.” Skye nodded. “Classy, yet provocative. I like it a lot.”

“Thanks.” The lovely dancer beamed, then wrinkled her brow when ZZ Top’s “Sharp Dressed Man” started playing from her purse. She fished a cell phone out of the black alligator clutch and swept her finger across the screen. Frowning, she tapped a few keys with her thumbs, sighed, then quickly touched another icon and tapped again.

Skye viewed the whole process with suspicion. She had figured out texting, although with the old-style keypad on her cell, it was a tedious process. And she’d seen some of the more advanced devices that some of the students possessed, but what in the heck was Emmy doing?

“Look.” Emmy held out her phone. “See what I just posted on Open Book.”

“Open Book?” Skye squinted at the tiny screen. She didn’t see anything that looked like a book. Next to a teeny picture of Emmy were the words:
At the Feed Bag with my friend Skye Denison-Boyd. Can’t wait to hear ALL she has to say about a certain ex-boyfriend of hers.

Emmy swept the screen with her finger, and Skye saw photos of people she didn’t recognize, cute animals, and even a few flowers. Next to each miniature picture were random comments about the weather, elaborate recipes, and cats.

“What in the world is all that?” Skye asked, confused at what she was seeing.

“You’re joking, right?” Emmy arched a feathery brow, and her sapphire blue eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You aren’t on Open Book?”

“I guess not.” Skye shrugged. “It’s hard to be ‘on’”—she arched her fingers in air quotes—“something you’ve never heard of.”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.” Emmy wrinkled her cute little turned-up nose. “Wally mentioned that you aren’t really into the whole Internet thing.”

“That’s not completely true,” Skye protested, wondering just when her husband had mentioned that little tidbit to the beautiful dancer. “I’m catching up.”

“Well, Open Book is an online social networking
site,” Emmy explained. “Some brainiacs at a big university created it so people all around the world could meet, share interests, and express themselves.”

“And anyone can see what you write or the pictures you put up?”

“Sort of. I don’t really understand all the technicalities.” Emmy bit her lip. “I do know that there are ways to limit who can look at your posts, but most people don’t bother to do that.” She shrugged. “Like the whole point of putting up a profile, writing status updates, and taking photos is for other people to see them.”

“Aren’t there privacy concerns?” Skye asked, appalled. “I mean, if you took a picture of us together and put it up but I didn’t want my photo on this site, could I make you take it down?”

“I have no idea.” Emmy’s eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t you want people to see your picture or know you and I were together at the Feed Bag? I get lots of gigs for my burlesque routine that way.”

“Not everyone wants to live their lives in full view of the public eye.” Skye mentally slapped her forehead. Of course a performer would love something like Open Book. Someone with those types of aspirations had to have at least a little bit of an exhibitionistic tendency or they’d never be able to face an audience.

“I suppose.” Emmy didn’t look entirely convinced. “Anyway, Open Book is fun, and it’s a good way to subtly let someone know something you don’t want to come right out and tell him.”

“Oh?” Skye caught a hint of spite in Emmy’s voice. “Like what?”

“Like, say someone didn’t show up for a date. You could post a picture of yourself with someone they would prefer you weren’t alone with.”

“Are you referring to Simon?” Skye asked, hiding a smile. Emmy was dating Skye’s ex-boyfriend, and he was as straitlaced as they came. Simon wouldn’t be fond of
Skye and his new girlfriend exchanging feminine secrets or making comparisons about him.

“Yes.” Emmy pushed out her bottom lip. “I think he’s starting to take me for granted. We were supposed to meet here at six fifteen, and now I just got a text from him saying he can’t make it. I figured that when he wasn’t here when I arrived, he was standing me up again. He always puts business before me.”

“Well . . .” Skye trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Simon is like that.”

How much time were the bubbly blonde and the somber funeral director spending together? Were they getting serious? Emmy seemed to be a younger version of Simon’s mother, which would drive him crazy. Then again, the embrace Skye had witnessed had seemed off the chart in sensuality, and men could forgive a lot if the woman was hot and the sex was even hotter.

“And it worked like a charm.” Emmy ignored Skye’s statement and pointed to the entrance.

“Good gravy!” Skye grimaced. Simon had pushed through the glass doors and was scowling in their direction.

CHAPTER 15

STAN—Stalker Fan

S
imon strode purposefully toward their table. He greeted various folks along the way but ignored anyone’s attempt to detain him and start a conversation. As always, he wore a perfectly tailored dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and highly polished black oxfords. He pointedly gazed at Emmy as he slid in next to Skye.

Shoot! Why did I scoot over for him?
Skye scowled. The whole polite thing wasn’t working for her. She had to quit being so nice.

Once Simon was seated, he said, “Are you ladies having a nice chat?”

Emmy tossed her long blond hair back and retorted, “We were.”

Skye kept her mouth shut. Simon’s presence was awkward on a couple of different levels, and she wasn’t about to add to any of them. She really didn’t want to witness a lover’s quarrel between another couple, especially one involving an old boyfriend. And judging from the exasperated look on Simon’s face and Emmy’s defiant expression, they were about to have a doozy of an argument.

Worse, Wally would not be happy when he heard that she’d had dinner with her ex-beau. He wouldn’t care that Emmy was also there. With Skye and Simon’s history, the
gossip would be relentless. And before long, Simon and Emmy’s squabble would be turned into a fight caused by Simon’s unrequited love for Skye.

While Emmy stared at her boyfriend, Tomi hurried over and asked, “What can I get you, Simon? The girls’ meals will be out any second, so if you all want to eat at the same time, I recommend the prime rib, the meat loaf, or the turkey dinner.”

“Just coffee.” Simon glanced at Emmy. “I only have a couple of minutes.”

“How about a slice of pie with that?” Tomi pulled over one of the cups already on the table and poured from the pot in her hand.

“Your lemon meringue is hard to resist, but no thanks.” He smiled at the older woman.

“At your age, you shouldn’t worry about avoiding temptation.” Tomi raised an eyebrow. “Because when you get older, it will avoid you.”

“And how would you know that?” Simon tilted his head appraisingly. “Surely not from experience.”

“Sweet talker.” Tomi tapped Simon’s shoulder. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do. But I haven’t been getting much exercise lately, and I need to lose a little weight.” Simon patted his waistline.

“Me too, honey.” Tomi winked and said over her shoulder as she strolled away, “But the only way I’d ever drop a few pounds is if I visited London.”

“I’m sorry that I had to break our date.” Simon leaned slightly forward toward Emmy. “As I said in my first text—the one I sent you at six so you wouldn’t waste your time driving to the restaurant—there was an urgent state of affairs that needed my attention. And as I said in my second text—after you disregarded my original message—I had to attend to the situation immediately and I was still unable to meet you here.”

“What was the big emergency? A dead body was about to come back to life if you didn’t embalm it right
away?” Emmy said mockingly. “Are you saving us from the zombie apocalypse?”

Skye was getting increasingly uncomfortable and decided dinner wasn’t worth sitting through this scene. “Excuse me. Could you let me out?” she asked. She was trapped between a wall on one side and Simon on the other, and he didn’t budge. He acted like he hadn’t even heard her.

“Of course not.” Simon’s voice was low. “Mr. and Mrs. Hucksford asked if they could arrange their daughter’s funeral via Skype. They live in California and aren’t able to travel to Scumble River. Since I’ve never used Skype, I needed to download the software onto my laptop and figure out how to work it before their appointment at seven.”

“Why didn’t you tell them you’d talk to them tomorrow?” Emmy thrust out her lower lip. “The woman’s dead. What’s the hurry?”

Skye had the same question, and now that Simon was discussing Blair, she wasn’t as eager to escape. Wally would definitely want to know why the Hucksfords were moving so quickly. Especially since their daughter’s body hadn’t even been released by the ME yet.

“Tonight at seven is the only time their attorney was available,” Simon explained. “He’s leaving for Australia tomorrow morning and will be gone for several weeks.”

“Why do they need a lawyer to arrange her funeral?” Emmy asked.

Another good question. Skye flipped open her book, pretending disinterest, but kept her ears open. She didn’t have to get involved. Emmy was doing just fine getting information from Simon.

“Something about the deceased’s estate.” Simon took a sip of coffee.

“So you decided to blow off your date with me in order to accommodate a couple of strangers.” Emmy curled her lip. “People who don’t care enough about their daughter to fly to Illinois to get her body?”

“It’s not my place to question how people mourn.”
Simon’s expression was somber. “Everyone demonstrates their emotions differently. Something I’ve tried to explain to you on my own behalf on several occasions.”

“Don’t get me started.” Emmy narrowed her eyes. “You know that I don’t have brakes.”

“Well, if you’re going to insist on living on the edge, you better make sure you’re wearing a seat belt, because you’re headed for a crash.” Simon glowered back.

Emmy’s lips parted as if about to argue the point; then they snapped shut. A second later, in a deceptively casual tone, she said, “But you found time in your busy schedule to come have coffee with us when you saw that I was here with Skye. Didn’t you?”

“I . . . uh . . . well—”

Simon was saved by the arrival of Emmy’s and Skye’s food. Tomi put their plates in front of the women, along with a fresh glass of soda for Skye. She topped off Emmy’s and Simon’s coffee and asked Simon again if he wanted anything to eat. After making sure that no one needed anything else, Tomi told them to enjoy their meal and hurried away to handle the line that had suddenly formed at the cash register.

As Skye forked a bite of grilled chicken breast topped with grilled green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and mozzarella cheese into her mouth, she watched Emmy tear into her barbecued spare ribs. For such a slim woman, Emmy appeared to have a big appetite.

A few seconds went by, and then Emmy paused in mid gnaw and said, “You never answered my question. Why did you rush down here?”

“I have no idea,” Simon admitted. “Maybe because I was looking for an excuse to see you tonight, even if it was for only a couple of minutes.” He took Emmy’s hand—the one not holding the spare rib. “I felt that I had to cancel the date and oblige the Hucksfords in their time of grief, but I truly was sorry to miss seeing you tonight. I’d been looking forward to it all day long. I guess I should have told you that in the text, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

A lump formed in Skye’s throat. That was one of the sweetest things she’d ever heard Simon say. She resolutely ignored the teeny twinge of jealousy. No reason to be a dog in the manger. She didn’t love Simon and was happy he’d found someone else.

Noticing that Simon and Emmy were staring soulfully into each other’s eyes, Skye tried to give them as much privacy as the situation allowed by concentrating on her food. But considering she was less than a foot from Simon’s side, she couldn’t avoid overhearing their conversation.