I felt somehow cheated, but also relieved.

Sally retrieved a tray and a couple of boxes of cookies from the small conference room. She’d deposited them there, she explained, when she entered and suddenly felt the urgency of the two cups of coffee she’d had after supper.

“I didn’t even think I could make it across the hall into the big room,” she said with a roll of her tan eyes.

“How’s life at the newspaper?” I asked, just to keep Sally talking while I got over my shock.

I couldn’t dismiss that phone call as lightly and logically as Sally. As I trailed after her into the big meeting room, half listening to her account of a fight she’d had with the new publisher, I could still taste the metallic surge of adrenaline in my mouth. My arms had goosepimples, and I pulled my sweater tightly around me.

As she arranged the cookies on her tray, Sally began telling me about the election that would be held to select someone to fill out the term of our unexpectedly deceased mayor. “He keeled over right in his office, according to his secretary,” she said casually as she realigned a row of Oreos. “And after having been mayor only a month! He’d just gotten a new desk.” She shook her head, regretting the loss of the mayor or the waste of the desk, I wasn’t sure which.

“Sally,” I said before I knew I was going to, “where’s Mamie?”

“Who cares?” Sally asked frankly. She cocked one surprised eyebrow at me.

I knew I should laugh, since Salty and I had discussed our mutual distaste for Mamie before, but I didn’t bother. I was beginning to be irritated with Sally, standing there looking sensible and attractive in her curry bronze permanent, her well-worn expensive suit, and her well-worn expensive shoes.

“When I pulled in the parking lot,” I said quite evenly, “there were two cars, yours and Mamie’s. I recognized Mamie’s, because she’s got a Chevette like mine, but white instead of blue. So you are here and I am here, but where is Mamie?”