Free Crimson Eve by Brandilyn Collins Page A

Black. “Give her a few more minutes, okay? If she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll call her. In the meantime keep gabbing with Jake. That’ll keep you occupied.”
    “Whatdya think I’ve been doing all this time, woman! I’ve been gabbing enough to talk Jake’s huge ears off.”
    Jake sniffed. “Yeah, but all you been talking about is Carla.” He slid a hand up the side of his head. “And for your information, I’ve seen ears a lot bigger than mine.”
    “Where, on a sow?”
    “Wilbur.” Bailey frowned. “Now you’re just being mean.”
    “Aw, I’m used to it.” Jake’s buggy eyes glanced toward the ceiling. His left hand explored the girth of his ear.
    Bailey turned from the espresso machine and poured the latte into a middler cup. “Bev, your drink’s done.”
    Across the café, Bev Trexel rose from her and Angie Brendt’s usual table. Bev looked particularly stern this morning, aiming one of her disapproving stares at Wilbur’s back as she approached. Both retired schoolteachers, Bev and Angiewere best friends but couldn’t have been more different. Bev’s genuine concern for others was blanketed by a Miss Manners sense of protocol — a standard that Wilbur Hucks never met — while Angie tended to laugh things off. Giggle was more like it.
    “Thank you, Bailey.” Bev accepted her drink with her chin held extra high — a message to Wilbur that he’d managed to grate her nerves more than usual this morning.
    Wilbur slid a sideways look in her direction but otherwise ignored her until she was on the way back to her table. Then he rocked his head side to side, flapping his mouth in a mocking silent harangue. Bev, all too used to his gyrations, didn’t even need to turn around. “I know what you’re doing, Wilbur Hucks.”
    He folded his arms in a huff.
    For a moment it was silent in the café, save for the quiet tap of S-Man’s computer keys. Ted Dawson, affectionately known as S-Man, hunched over his laptop, intense concentration knitting his dark eyebrows as he edited his science fiction manuscript, Starfire . After five months of rejections from agents, he was close to landing one — if he could fix a few “weaknesses” in the story.
    Wilbur checked the round-faced clock on the wall and sighed. “After nine-thirty. She’s over an hour late. I came here all fired up to write my post. It was going to be a zinger too. Now my creativity’s draining away by the second.”
    “Why don’t you ask Bev to type for you?” Bailey offered Wilbur a teasing smile. “I’m sure she’d just love to.”
    Jake snorted. “That’ll be the day.”
    “Will you call Carla now, Bailey?” Wilbur sounded petulant. “I’ve waited long enough.”
    Bailey was getting a little worried. Carla would usually call if she was going to be late for an appointment — even just a blog-typing commitment to Wilbur. She had a strong responsibility ethic. “All right, I’ll call.”
    She turned toward the phone, near the wall at the end of the L-shaped counter. First she dialed Carla’s office at the realty company, only to hear that Carla hadn’t come in yet. Next she dialed Carla’s home. No answer.
    Maybe Carla was in her car somewhere. Bailey would have to check the Rolodex back in her office for Carla’s cell phone number. She headed around the long counter. “Wilbur, I’m going to — ”
    The phone rang, and Bailey turned back to answer it. “Maybe that’s her now.” She picked up the receiver. “Good morning, Java Joint.”
    “Hello. Would this be . . . is this Bailey?” Not Carla. A woman’s voice. Low and breathless.
    “Yes.”
    “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to get hold of Carla Radling.”
    Get in line . “I haven’t seen her this morning. Do you have her office number? I don’t think she’s there yet, but you could leave a message for her.”
    “I’ve called there. But I need to talk to her now . Could you possibly give me her home number?”
    Bailey hesitated. “I’m