Page 97 of Bourbon Bliss
I stood and nodded to Callie. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
I tossed some money on the table to cover the coffee and bagel I’d barely touched, then walked out the door.
Outside, I found June standing next to my car.
“Jesus,” I said under my breath. That had been stressful.
“What took you so long?” June asked. “Did you have lunch?”
“Sort of. I couldn’t walk out right after you, so I had to order something. And then the waitress recognized me. I had to sign a bunch of autographs before I could get out of there. If there was any reason to keep me being here a secret, I blew that one.”
“You are very tall. And you’re well known, especially here. It would have been difficult to remain inconspicuous.”
“No shit. Did you crawl out of there?”
She waved a hand, like it was of no importance. “Of course. I needed to get away without attracting undue attention.”
Since it had apparently worked—no one had remarked on a woman crawling out the door—I decided to let that drop. “Please tell me you got what you need.”
She grinned and held up a small plastic bag. “I believe I did.”
“Good job, Scooby-June. Now let’s go before she comes out.”
We got in my car, and I drove away quickly. That had been nerve-wracking. June was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. I couldn’t believe Callie hadn’t caught her grabbing her hair.
“What did she talk about?” June asked. “Did you get anything incriminating?”
“Not really. She said she was a recent Philly transplant, but she’d grown up in Virginia.”
June tapped her finger against her lips. “Grew up in Virginia is consistent with Callie Kendall. But she must have researched the case thoroughly to be able to pull this off. She’d know where the real Callie grew up. Anything else?”
“I got the sense that she was pretending she didn’t know who I was. I could be wrong about that, but I’ve seen it before. Some girls try to get close to players by acting like they don’t know who we are. She gave me that vibe.”
“Interesting.”
“Tell me something. What are you going to do if you’re wrong and sheisthe real Callie?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Just let it go?”
“I’ll still wonder about the inconsistencies in her story. At that point, the most plausible explanation will be that she made errors when she was interviewed by police. But I’m confident that my theory is correct. And soon, I’ll have proof.”
“I suppose you will.”
* * *
The next day,I had phone calls to make. Secretly planning a big event was proving to be a lot of work. I’d already gotten Bowie to let me use the high school gym, and Gibson and his band had agreed to provide the entertainment. I still needed to have posters made and I wanted to get a banner to string up across Lake Drive. I was hoping to keep my involvement on the down-low until after the event had been announced, and I could ask June to be my date. I’d let her know I was behind it later.
Andrea had sent me the names of some local printers, so I called to get pricing. I also needed to get my tux. I’d thought about renting one, but I was hard to fit for normal clothes, let alone a tuxedo. I’d either have Andrea bring mine out, or I’d take another trip to Philly before the big night.
With my checklist taken care of for the time being, I turned my attention to the stack of mail I’d picked up at my house. Usually Andrea sorted it for me first, then sent me anything I needed. Since I was there, I’d just grabbed the stack.
I thumbed through the envelopes, tossing the junk mail in the recycling. There was a card from my mom with a little white bunny on the front. She had an honest-to-goodness greeting card addiction. She sent about one a month, whether there was a holiday or not, and she had shoeboxes full of them at home.
At the bottom of the pile was a nondescript white envelope. But the return address caught my eye. It was from the IRS.
