"Really? There are actually people like you in the world? For reals?"
"Oh, I'm real, sweetheart."
I jutted out a hip and slapped my palm onto it. "This is unbelievable. I mean, I've heard stories, but I just thought you guys were an urban legend. You know, like that one where the couple is making out in the woods and they hear a sound and the guy gets out to check and the girl is all alone and she hears this drip and she looks and it's the blood of her boyfriend dripping from a tree branch overhead and she screams and gets back in the car and races away and when she gets home the cops find a bloody hook stuck in the door handle." How the fuck could I remember shit like that and I couldn't remember my own name? It was so wrong.
My soliloquy didn't faze him. "You got the legend part right."
Out of all that, that's what he came away with. "Can I take your picture? I have to post this on one of those sites that has photos of UFOs and Sasquatch. Otherwise no one will believe me."
"You done being a smartass?" he asked me. It was a legitimate question.
I thought about it. Shook my head. "Prolly not. Can I get you some more coffee?"
He grunted.
I filled their cups and pretended not to notice the scent of alcohol wafting off them. They must've brought their own stash. The Firelight Grill didn't serve alcohol.
Apparently Mark considered it his civic duty to give me a hard time. A girl could only take so many hateful digs filled with sexual innuendo before she snapped. I doubted Dixie would appreciate a lawsuit brought on by my dumping coffee on her customers' heads.
After wishing them a good day, I moved on to Cookie's husband, Bobert. Bobert's real name was Robert, but the first time he'd come into the café, Cookie grew super nervous as she pointed him out. No idea why.
"His name is Bob … ert," she'd said, turning away from me.
"Your husband's name is Bobert?"
She turned back, laughing softly. Nervously. "Robert. I meant to say Robert, though a lot of people on the force called him Bob. I didn't. Still don't. Nope, he's just plain old Robert to me. Except at home. Sometimes I call him Bob at home."
That was a lot of explanation, but it didn't allay the disappointment I felt at not knowing someone named Bobert. "Can I call him Bobert?"
A nervous laugh spilled out of her. "You can call him whatever you want. I have a feeling you'll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time."
Why would she say that? I decided to ask. "Why would you say that?"
"Because you, Janey Doerr, are a charmer."
My spine straightened. A charmer. I'd take it.
"You could probably call him Pudding and he'd be fine with it. He's going to adore you."
I'd raised my chin in pride. "Really? You think he'll adore me?" After tilting my head this way and that as he scooted into a booth, I added, "I mean, he is kinda hot."
Her sweet expression Houdinied into thin air. "I don't think you two would work out that way."
"Oh, right, on account of you guys being married and all."
"That's one take on it, yes."
Married people were so possessive.
That was a little over a month ago, and she'd been right. We became friends the moment we met.
"Can I talk to you a minute?" I asked him. As usual, he wore his short brown hair slicked down and kept his mustache thick and well groomed. I couldn't decide if he was a product of the eighties or just really nerdy.
And, just as Cookie had predicted, he'd taken to me almost as well as she had. I figured he'd felt sorry for the amnesiac the way you do for a carnival attraction. But whatever the reason, he seemed to genuinely like me. There was a shortage of that today.
"Please." He folded the paper he was reading and gestured for me to sit down.
"Thanks." After putting the carafe on the next table, I sat across from him.
"What's up, pumpkin?"
I almost giggled, the term of endearment a welcome respite from the maddening crowd. "I kind of have a situation, and I'm not sure who to talk to about it. I'm hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction."
"Oh." He squared his shoulders. "What kind of a situation? Are you okay? Did something happen?"
"No. No, I'm fine." His concern made me warm and mushy inside. "It's more of a legal thing, and I wasn't sure if you'd want me to get Cookie involved, so -"
"A legal thing, how?"
I didn't know how much to tell him. I couldn't put Mr. Vandenberg or his family in danger. Then again, they were already in danger. Serious danger, from what I could tell. "Okay, what if, hypothetically, I knew about a man who was possibly being held hostage against his will. Along with his entire family."