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“No. Except that it was someone at the barbecue . . . I think.” Her face clouded. “Maybe it is Anne Reade. I don’t know . . .”
“He married you, Zora,” said Delta. She was starting to weary of the conversation. She had so many other, bigger problems.
“I know, but . . . maybe I just got in there at the right time. Caught him just as he was becoming well . . . rich.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Amanda told me I was younger and prettier than Miss Billings,” Zora said, looking at Delta sideways.
Delta could see was angling for a compliment, so she gave it to her. “Amanda’s right.”
Zora smiled. “Amanda also told me to tell Brian to grow the fuck up.”
“Sounds just like her.”
“I know you guys aren’t friends anymore, but I kind of want us to all get back together, the Five Firsts, you know? Is that dumb? A pipe dream? Completely out of the question?”
There are no Five Firsts any longer.
“Actually, I’m going to see Amanda today,” Delta said. “I want her to be my defense attorney.”
Zora’s lips parted in surprise. “You’re kidding.”
“No. My husband’s dead, and I’m a prime suspect. I need a lawyer, and I asked Amanda to be that lawyer.”
“Is she . . . has she agreed to?”
“I’ll find out.” They were at their cars, and Delta turned to her to say good-bye. “Thanks for coming to the movie with me.”
“Oh, anytime. You know, I could I help you out tomorrow, too. With Owen? After pre-K,” she said. “You can go somewhere, or just take a nap, whatever you need, and I’ll get him dinner and play with him, give him a bath, put him to bed . . .”
“I’m really okay, Zora. I—”
“Please,” she beseeched. “I want to. I need to get away from my life for a while. What better way than with children? Brian and I were trying, you probably know already, but now that’s over.”
“I don’t pick him up till around five.”
“Great. I’ll be at your house at five-fifteen, okay?”
Delta lifted her palms and dropped them in surrender. If Zora really wanted to come over, why should she fight it?
* * *
McCrae got a total rundown from Quin on Tim Hurston’s trip to the station, which had appeared to be a sniffing-around expedition and nothing more
. McCrae had almost asked Corinne about him but didn’t want her to know he’d even given the man’s visit a thought.
With that in mind, he’d gone to his desk and immediately started a search for Tracy Gillup and got a hit for her address right away, only to learn that she was no longer there. He tried to find a cell number—or any phone number, for that matter—but struck out. He then looked up employment records and realized the girl was a roamer, out of one job at a bar or restaurant, then onto another, moving around after only a few months at any one place. He also realized she didn’t stray far from a certain nexus on Portland’s west side, so if she’d moved from her last place of employment, he could check with various bars in the area and see if he could find her. Since he had some time before he was supposed to meet Dean Sutton, he headed out of the station at about 4:30.
“Where are you going?” Corinne asked.
He hadn’t seen her as she was walking from the break room when he was pushing through the back door. It was odd for her to ask. Especially since they didn’t talk anymore.
“Working a case,” he said.
“The Stahd case.”
He nodded. He didn’t have to tell her he was doing some digging into Bailey’s homicide before he met with Sutton. “Is there a reason you want to know?”
