Missing Marlene Read Free Page B

went all out for the party. She had it catered by Special Occasions, the people a few doors down the street from her office. She invited Arliss, of course, and Bill Parent, Arliss’s editor in chief, and various others at Millennium who had been involved in the book’s publication. Just for fun, she invited Audrey and Elliott Fairchild from across the street. And, of course, Daniel and Laura were there.
    So was Marlene. Jane had considered asking her to help with the party, but then had thought better of it. Everything had to be perfect. So Marlene had mingled as a guest.
    “The Roadside Tavern?” Jane said.
    Daniel nodded. “On Highland Road.”
    “I know where it is.” It was the worst kind of sleazy low-life dump.
    “I figured you knew,” Daniel said.
    “No.” Jane put a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “But I should have.”

Three
    At ten the next morning Jane sat at her usual table in the back left corner of Whipped Cream, the coffee shop across the green from her office.
    Jane loved it here. It was just a little storefront shop, but its walls were of old used brick, and in the fall and winter a fire always roared in the fireplace that occupied most of the wall near where she sat. Jane’s friend Ginny had brought Jane’s usual coffee and apple-raisin muffin, and Jane sipped and munched as she made notes on a proposal for a romance novel by one of her clients.
    This late in the morning most of the tables were empty. At the other back corner a young woman with frizzy black hair, whom Jane had seen here before, sat reading the Wall Street Journal while feeding chunks of muffin to her little girl in the stroller beside her.
    Ginny appeared with the coffeepot. “Heat you up?”
    “Mm, thanks,” Jane said. The coffee made a satisfying gurgling sound as Ginny refilled her mug. Ginny surveyed the shop with its one other customer, then cast a surreptitious glance behind the counter. Charlie, the shop’s often-grouchy owner, was nowhere in sight.
    “He’s still at the post office,” Ginny said softly. “Mind company for a minute?”
    “No, I’d love it,” Jane said, grateful for the distraction. Ginny grabbed a mug for herself from the counter, filled it with coffee, and plunked down opposite Jane.
    Jane was awfully fond of Ginny. They were both members of the same knitting club, which met every other Tuesday night, and occasionally they went to movies or shopping together. The light of Ginny’s life was Rob, a struggling silver-jewelry designer who was never as romantically demonstrative as Ginny would have liked. Often she and Jane discussed their relationships: Ginny confiding her uncertainty about a future with Rob, Jane confiding her wish to take her relationship with Roger to the next level. Ginny, ever brutally honest, made no secret of her dislike for Roger, whom she called an insincere opportunist. Jane felt her assessment was completely wrong, and they agreed to disagree.
    “Roger meeting you?” Ginny asked.
    Jane stared at her in surprise. “How’d you know?”
    Ginny gave a little shrug. “The way you’re acting. Kind of expectantly nervous.”
    Jane laughed. “That about describes it. I am nervous. We’re having major trouble with his publisher.”
    “And he thinks it’s all your fault, right?” Ginny shook her head slightly in indignation, her dark curls shaking.
    “Well . . . yes, partly,” Jane admitted. “The agent often gets blamed for what the publisher does—or doesn’t do,” she added ruefully.
    Ginny said nothing, clearly restraining herself.
    “I know you don’t like Roger, Ginny, but I do, and I want to help him. Even if I didn’t . . . care for him, I’d still want to help him as his agent.”
    “I know, I know,” Ginny said, and sipped her coffee. “Let’s talk about someone else. How’s that adorable little nine-year-old of yours?”
    Jane smiled. “Nick’s fine. But—I forgot to tell you—Marlene left us on Monday.”
    Ginny’s eyes grew