Free Edge Of Evil by J. A. Jance Page B

out at the restaurant during the summer and on weekends, but she had done so without pay, and her tips had gone into the family coffers to help keep things afloat. An academic scholarship to Northern Arizona University was the only reason she’d been able to go on to college.
    But right now, with her mother standing there behind the counter, smiling and waiting for Dave Holman to place his order, Ali couldn’t very well tell Dave the real reason she had spurned Billy Garrett’s prom invitation—she simply hadn’t been able to afford a dress.
    “The usual?” Edie asked Dave. He nodded. Edie hurried away, jotting down his order as she went.
    “I never have been big on dancing,” Ali said. “Not then, and not now, either.”
    “Too bad,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Broke poor Billy’s heart. He went straight out and married the very next tall blond he ran into. Her name was Doreen, I think. She was a handful. You could have spared the poor guy all kinds of grief and at least one really bad marriage if you had just said yes our senior year instead of no.”
    At that point, though, the corners of his mouth went slightly upward, and Ali realized Holman was teasing her—most likely for the benefit of several other Sugarloaf regulars who were listening in on the conversation with avid attention.
    “Billy didn’t really marry that woman because I turned him down for the prom, did he?” she asked.
    Dave grinned. “Makes a great story, though. And Billy’s fine, by the way. He’s a professor of philosophy somewhere in Colorado, and his second wife is great.”
    For the next few seconds, Ali tried to imagine Billy Garrett either studying or teaching philosophy. It just didn’t compute.
    Meanwhile Dave Holman turned serious. “You’re here because of Reenie Holzer?” he asked.
    It was always easier to remember girls from high school by their maiden names rather than by their married ones. Ali nodded.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I remember the way the twoof you were in high school—always together. One tall, one short. One blond, one brunette. One thin and the other”—he paused—“well, rounder,” he concluded diplomatically. “Reenie always had way more curves than you did.”
    By mentioning Reenie’s name, Detective Holman had given Ali an opening, and she took it. “Are you making any progress finding out what happened?”
    “Some,” he said.
    “I’m planning on going up to Flag later this morning to see Howie and the kids and to find out if there’s anything I can do.”
    “I’m guessing he’ll be pretty busy this morning,” Dave said.
    “How come?” Ali asked.
    Dave set down his coffee cup and lowered his voice, although by then most of the people who had been eavesdropping on Ali and Dave’s encounter had resumed their own breakfast conversations. “I talked to Lee Farris last night. He’s my counterpart in homicide in Coconino County. He’s planning on bringing Mr. Bernard in for questioning this morning.”
    “Howie?” Ali asked. “They’re going to be questioning Howie about this?”
    “We have to talk to everyone,” Dave said. “That’s how you get to the bottom of what really happened.”
    “But you’re not saying he did it, are you?”
    “I’m saying we have to talk to everyone,” Dave repeated firmly. “At this point it could be an accident,but no one’s ruling out suicide, either. If you start down Schnebly Hill Road in a snowstorm, you’re pretty much asking for trouble. And considering what she was looking at, with spending the next few years dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease, who could blame her if she did choose a shortcut? I sure as hell would.”
    “But what about her kids?” Ali objected. “From what I understand, she had just been diagnosed and was still in reasonably good health. I know her better than that. She wouldn’t just abandon her kids like that, not before she had to.”
    Dave shrugged. “She might,” he said.
    Bob Larson emerged