"Make yourself comfortable." Joanne closed the door, sealing them inside the stale air of her office as she pointed to the two folding chairs placed in front of a small kitchen table posing as a desk. The décor of wood paneling and mementos from decades earlier had spread its way into this ten-by-twenty cubbyhole crammed with papers, renderings, and restaurant design magazines. "Excuse the mess. It's my dream to renovate. I just need to meet one of those rich investor types who can see my vision and give me gobs of money."

As they both sat, Robbie's gaze went to the series of screens on the far wall, all of them playing black-and-white footage of scenes similar to what they had just left.

"I own four bars," Joanne explained, noticing Robbie's focus. "I can't be everywhere at the same time, so I watch from above." Her mouth stretched into a grin. "Like a god."

Robbie's hand went to her throat, the feeling of being choked still with her. It had rattled her more than she wanted to admit. "I guess you need to."

Joanne lifted her feet up to the table and crossed her ankles, making the leather pants give off a little squeak. She gave Robbie a long look before reaching for a pack of Dunhills and pointing them across the table. "Cigarette?"

Robbie shook her head.

"I'm not supposed to smoke in here, but . . . do you mind?"

"Not at all."

One was selected and lit, the end glowing bright with the first drag. Joanne tilted her head back to exhale. Then she refocused on Robbie. "That man you attacked? His wife left him a month back."

"Technically he attacked me first. And he was being rude to you and your employees. Who knows? Maybe that's why the wife left."

"No." Joanne pinched the tip of her tongue to remove what Robbie could only assume was a stray piece of tobacco and rubbed her fingers together over the ashtray. "She was fucking his best friend."

"Oh."

There was another long look before the woman continued, "We try to give Ashley a little slack. Rest assured, my girls are well-trained to handle men like him." The ashtray was dragged closer and Joanne tapped away, the smoke from the slow burn curling its way over and tickling the back of Robbie's throat. "I've been in this business a long time, Agent Westcott. Everyone has a story. Most of my regulars come in here to forget theirs."

She did have a point. "I shouldn't have let him get under my skin. I need to be more . . ." Jesus, was she really going to say it? "Sensitive," she muttered.

Joanne's deep chuckle filled the room as she eased back in her chair. "So, what's your story, Agent Westcott?"

"Not much to tell." Robbie lifted her attaché case to her lap and opened it. "Other than I'm determined to find Elizabeth Shaw's killer."

The bartender's face fell. "Yes, poor Lizzie. I heard it was a brutal murder."

"Lizzie?"

"That's what we called her back in the day."

Robbie pulled a recorder from her bag and placed it on the table. "Is it okay if—"

"Sure, go ahead."

Robbie switched it on. "Tell me about her. What was she like?"

Joanne's eyes found a spot on the wall above Robbie's head. "A tornado. Smart, witty, fun, beautiful, she pulled anyone lucky enough to know her along for one hell of a ride. You couldn't help but love her."

"And do you know Tony?"

There was a hint of a frown. "I met him once. Lizzie and I grew apart after that. I think she was trying to forget her past and adopt a new 'normal,' which is what Tony provided." Her hand came up and ruffled the short red spikes while offering a full view of the elaborate tattoos on the underside of her arm. "I didn't exactly fit into that lifestyle . . . and I'm sure she didn't want Tony around any of her ex-lovers."

It took Robbie a few seconds. "You and Elizabeth?"

Lips shifted into a half smile. "I told you she was adventurous." Abruptly, all the humor drained from her face. "Don't get me wrong, she liked men too, lots of them, unfortunately."

"Would it shock you to know Elizabeth had at least one affair?"

"There were a lot of things Lizzie did that shocked me."

"Like?"

Dark eyes narrowed as the woman stared across the table at Robbie. "Like getting married for starters."

"Why is that?"

"Do you know what happens when they put a tiger in a cage, Agent Westcott?"

Knowing an answer was imminent, Robbie raised her brows and waited.

"It spends the rest of its time trying to find a way out. You can never truly tame the wild ones."

"Don't I know it," Robbie muttered down to her lap as she busied herself pulling out . . . nothing from her bag.

Too late, she realized she'd said it out loud. Joanne lifted her legs from the table to drive her feet to the floor and lean forward in her chair. "You having romance problems, Agent Westcott?" The devious grin was in Cheshire cat territory.

Damn it. "I wouldn't call it a problem." She laughed, hearing how it sounded shrill and contrived. "Or a romance for that matter."

"I see." Joanne paused for a moment before waving a finger up and down in the space between them. "Perhaps if you didn't wear your mother's clothes? I bet there is something to show off under all that polyester."

Robbie's cheeks heated. Again. That needed to stop. "Actually, the blouse is pure cotton and the pants are a blend, 53 percent virgin wool, 30 percent cotton, and only 17 percent polyester, purchased from a boutique up in Georgetown."

The other woman blinked back at her, like she was busy doing the math. Then she barked out a laugh as she extinguished her cigarette. "You are the real deal, Agent Westcott. I like that."

Robbie didn't see the humor, but didn't ask either, hoping to turn the topic of conversation away from her and back to Elizabeth.

Except Joanne wasn't finished. Wagging another finger in Robbie's direction, she told her, "Those frames have got to go."

Robbie had forgotten she had her glasses on. She shoved them to the top of her head. "I really only need them when driving, more so at night, or if I've been working long hours and my eyes are tired."

Joanne waved her off. "Maybe find a pair not quite so"—she shrugged—"bulbous."

Unperturbed, Robbie simply nodded. These were not the first unsolicited fashion tips thrown her way. And even though she believed bartenders should stick to cocktails when doling out advice, she had to admit the woman did look well put together with her unique punk-meets-classic-rock style.

Anxious to move on, Robbie asked, "Is there anyone special from Elizabeth's past? Someone she may have continued to see? Or someone she rejected who didn't take it so well?"

"No, not that I recall. She never stayed with one person for very long."

Thinking she'd hit another dead end, Robbie was about to reach for the recorder and wrap things up when Joanne added, "Lizzie did come in here a few months ago, though. With a man."

The little hairs on the back of Robbie's neck stood up. "Did you tell the investigators?"

"Nope. They never asked, and I wasn't about to ruin Lizzie's reputation. You can't trust anyone these days."

"You can trust me."

The bar owner cocked her head. "I believe I can." Without warning, she slapped the top of the table, making Robbie jump. "First things first, though. I'm thirsty. How about I buy you a drink, Agent Westcott?"

Normally, Robbie would have declined since she was on official business, but this seemed like a test, or maybe more like an exchange—a secret for a secret. She looked toward the door, picturing all the activity on the other side of it. "Do you make a good margarita?"

)l(

An hour later, Robbie was sitting at a stoplight and about to text Paul that she'd be a little late when his number came up on her display. She hit the button on her console. "Hey, I'm almost there."

"Me too. I'm at Cannella's not far from your place. Do you know it?"

"I sure do." Italian, delicious, and a little pricey, the place was a popular choice with the military whenever they needed a break from eating on base. For some reason it gave her a thrill knowing he wasn't just picking up fast food.

"Anything in particular you want?"

"Chicken fettuccini and some of their garlic bread please. I'm starving."

A deep chuckle came through the phone, warming her from the inside out. "Nice to see a woman with an appetite for a change. You got it."

The restaurant was on her route home, and when she was about to pass by it, she decided to stop in and surprise him, excited to tell him what she'd learned.

Walking in, she spotted him immediately. Even from a distance he attracted attention as he stood near the end of the counter in his uniform, towering over everyone else as he waited on their order. Just the sight of him made her want to rush over.

But he wasn't alone.

A young woman was standing talking to him and, even better, she had brought a friend along for moral support. Or perhaps woman number two was on deck, waiting for her chance at bat. Either way, it was not a good sign. The one closest to him teetered on skyscraper heels as she leaned forward to respond to something he had said, giving him a chance to check out exactly how much cleavage was down the front of her tiny white dress. Now there was a perfect example of polyester, most definitely. No way would a natural fiber hug every contour of a body like that.

Long painted nails did a slow drag through golden-brown tresses as the woman smiled up at him. Then she turned her attention to the friend on the sidelines, and Paul used the opportunity to let his eyes get their fill, drinking her in like she was a tall glass of beer and he was dying of thirst.

Robbie had to look away. So this was what being punched in the gut felt like. Pain stole her breath, even as she told herself she was being ridiculous. Staring down at her Mary Janes, she felt a sudden solidarity with the plain but comfortable shoes. They may not be sexy, but she could run in them if she was late for a meeting. She doubted the woman across the room could make it anywhere on time wearing those stilts.

After a moment of deliberation, she decided to walk up rather than walk out. As she approached, the take-out order arrived and Paul turned to the man behind the counter. Robbie came to a stop right behind him and got the coldest of looks from his new acquaintance. When Paul spun back around, his focus went straight to Robbie. The smile was wide and welcoming, as if his best friend had just shown up, a far cry from the look he had given the woman standing beside her.

"Hey."

If he calls me buddy, I'm going to scream, Robbie said to herself. "I think I may have a lead."

His expression grew serious. He grabbed the food with one hand and Robbie's elbow with the other, pulling her into step beside him as he headed for the door.

"Ah, hallooo?" was yelled at their backs by the disgruntled woman left in the lurch. Hopefully she could make it back to her table in those shoes.

"Nice to meet you ladies," was tossed over Paul's shoulder while Robbie resisted the urge to voice her, better luck next time.

Paul deposited their dinner in the back of his rental car as Robbie filled him in on the new discovery. "The college roommate owns this bar and saw Elizabeth come in a few months ago with a man, a big, aggressive-looking type with short platinum hair, one hell of a dye job she called it. They both seemed in shock when she walked up to their table, but she got called away after the 'hi, how are ya?s.' They were gone by the time she looked up again. She didn't catch his name, but that hairstyle is unusual and high maintenance. Maybe we start there. Somebody has got to know him."

Deep in thought, Paul rubbed at his jaw, and she was on pins and needles waiting for his response.

"I'm impressed."

She tried to ignore the increased beat of her pulse. "I'm going to check the memory stick too. You never–"

Suddenly, his hand went to her shoulder. "Your shirt, it's ripped."

She looked to the spot he was touching, surprised to see a tear in the seam. "Damn it, I liked this blouse," she said, poking a finger at the hole. "I had a little run in at the bar, no biggie."

Before she knew what was happening, he had pushed up her sleeve and gone on a search for injuries. The concern on his face and the warm glide of his palm up and down her arm nearly broke her heart. Of all the men she could be crushing on, why did it have to be him? Angry that he could affect her so, she pulled away a little too briskly. "I'm fine." Readjusting her sleeve, she muttered, "Did you get her number?"

With his blank look, Robbie jerked her head toward the building beside them. "The woman in white. Is she your type? Would you sleep with her?"

Paul frowned so deep she could barely see his eyes. "That's a little personal, don't you think?"

More sensitive, Robbie, remember? "Sorry about that"—she waved a hand in front of her face—"never mind." She started the walk to her car.

"No," he said quietly.

She wheeled around, catching his shrug.

He stared down at the ground. "A year ago perhaps, probably . . . hell, maybe even both of them. I'm not proud of the way I was." He inhaled deeply. "My sister, Virginia, said something to me not long ago that made me think twice about my relationships, and she was right. I need to be more serious, respectful, honest." He pushed a hand through the short, dark curls on his head. "I'm trying."

Wow. That was unexpected. "She sounds like a smart woman. I met her at The Nest, only briefly, but she seemed pretty incredible."

His eyes came up to meet hers, a raw honesty blazing in their depths. "You remind me of her."

Her breath caught. "Oh . . . well, thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

Paul nodded, looking a little sheepish. Good Lord, the man was adorable.

He cleared his throat. "We should go. Food's getting cold."

"I'll see you there." Robbie headed to her car with her emotions all over the place, thinking it had been a mistake to come to Cannella's. The only positive had been his confession about turning a new leaf, moments ago. And she might have held on to that shred of hope, that one-in-a-million shot, had it not been for the fact that, in a span of ten minutes, she'd gone from being best buds to being like a sister.

A categorical shift in the wrong direction.

END OF CHAPTER NINE

What did you think of Paul's confession? Do you believe him?

❗️Sorry for the late update🙁As the holidays approach with lightning speed, things get a little cRaZy around here, and updates may be a bit more sporadic. I will, however, regain my sanity in the new year, and my weekly Friday schedule will return. In the meantime, you never know when a chapter will pop up!

Thank you to all who checked in to see if I was okay. That was so very sweet. You guys are awesome❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate the holiday! 🦃 🍁 

All votes ⭐️⭐️⭐️and comments 💬💬💬are very much appreciated.