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“To solve the case,” I follow up quickly.
“Right. Anyway.”
Phew.
“Her mom bought the bar and named it Willie’s around the time Bea was born. Bea’s dad was never around, and we were kids, so we didn’t think much about it when we were little. Until we did. You know how kids become jerks in middle school.”
I nod. “You bet I do.”
“She started getting questions about it. And there was a period of time she actually sat with Kate and me at lunch because her crew wouldn’t stop teasing her about ‘not knowing who her dad was.’”
“Geez, that’s brutal.” Interesting that Bea happened to leave out her brief stint “slumming” it with Constance and Kate.
“Anyway, she dragged us along to one of her group’s parties because she was scared to go alone. And everything was going to plan until…” Constance pauses and closes her eyes. A surprise of laughter spills out of her. “I can’t believe I remember this so clearly.”
Her eyes open again. It’s all dawned on her.
“We were playing Truth or Dare. No fun with me because, you know, the whole truthing thing.”
“I personally would use that to my advantage,” I say with a grin.
“Of course you would,” she mutters.
Is she flirting with me?
“It gets to Bea, someone asks her who her dad is. She says she doesn’t know. People start teasing her. Making fun. I could tell she was about to blow over. And then she blew her top and… I guess she might have told the truth.”
“Which is?”
Constance smirks. “Open the door and I’ll tell you.”
“Oh, you’re…”
Smirk turns into a grin. A smile with teeth.Jackpot.
“Impossible,” I say and unlock the car with my fob.
We both get in and, once our doors are shut, Constance leans in close for the big reveal. I have to focus my mind on not getting a whiff of her fresh, clean perfume.
“Bea said that her father was a Wilhelm.”
“You’re kidding.”
Constance shakes her head. “You know I don’t do that.”
“Wha… how?”
“Cornelius Wilhelm the third. Three wives. Lots of children. It’s not hard to add it all up. They run rampant around here. I mean, the list I gave you?—”
“You didn’t include Bea, though!” I argue.
“Well, I didn’t think about it, I’m sorry. I make mistakes too,” Constance admits, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not perfect.”
“Could have fooled me,” I say under my breath.
“What’d you say?”
I clear my throat. “Which Wilhelm?”
