“Tell me about it,” I said.
“I’m sure somebody already has,” she replied. “Did anyone tell you about the hilarious prank Clay played on me?”
“No one’s told me about Clay doing anything hilarious,” I said. “Or even mildly amusing. Remember, I’m a stranger in this strange land of Decoratorville. What nasty prank did he play?”
She looked up, assessed me for a few minutes, then closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, as if surrendering.
“I’ve been widowed for ten years,” she said. “No family. And a couple of years ago, I decided to try one of those online dating sites. And I didn’t like it at first. I was almost going to close my account. Then I met this man who seemed really nice and normal. He was a doctor. A widower. Fiftyish. We spent hours online talking. We bonded. I told him things…”
Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.
“We finally agreed to meet in person,” she continued. “At a restaurant in Richmond. I was so nervous. I must have tried on a dozen outfits before deciding on one. I’m not young or skinny.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “But I look pretty good for my age. I take care of myself.”
“Absolutely,” I said. And I meant it. I might not like her taste in décor and clothes, but I had a hard time imagining that the fiftyish widowed doctor wouldn’t be pleased to see her across the table.
“I waited in that restaurant for an hour and a half,” she said. “Drinking the water and nibbling the bread and eventually ordering a glass of wine so the waiters wouldn’t think I was just some crazy person taking up space. And when I finished my wine, the waiter brought me another glass, saying it was from one of the other customers.”
I had a bad feeling about this.
“It was Clay,” she said. “I found out he’d overheard me telling a friend about joining the online dating site. He figured out what my user name was and he pretended to be that nice, widowed doctor. I told him things I’d never told anyone—not even my late husband. And then he sat there in that restaurant, for an hour and a half, watching me wait.”
“What a horrible thing to do!”
“So, ever since then—as I said, a very small community. No way I could keep from running into him. And he was always digging at me. Dropping little hints about things I’d told him online. Calling me ‘Linda May.’ That’s what my mama used to call me, but when I got out of high school I dropped the ‘May,’ ’cause it sounded too Southern and country.”
She shook her head and blew her nose vigorously.
“And I’m sure everyone else knows all about it, and someone must have told the chief,” she said, more briskly. “And he’s right to suspect me of knocking off Clay. I didn’t do it, but I half want to thank whoever did. I just wish I had some kind of an alibi.”
“What were you doing instead of being alibied?” I asked.
“At home, watching TV and using the computer,” she said. “All by my lonesome, so I can’t prove a thing. So maybe the chief should just come and put the cuffs on now.”
“Because you hated Clay?” I said. “Take a number.”
She laughed a little at that.
“And besides,” I went on. “Maybe you can prove you were home. Were you doing anything online with your computer?
“Why?” She suddenly looked wary again.
“Because creepy and Big Brotherish as it sounds, these days they might be able to trace what you were doing online, and where you were doing it from.”
“Really?” She didn’t look upset at the idea. More hopeful.
“Really. Mutant Wizards, the computer game company my brother owns, had a problem last year with confidential information getting leaked, and they were able to figure out that someone was logging into the company’s computers from the house of an employee of his biggest competitor. They shut down the leak and I think the DA filed criminal charges against the data thief. So if you were doing something online…”
“I was.” She looked embarrassed. And just when I thought she wasn’t going to say anything else, she blurted out, “I reactivated my online dating profile. I’ve been talking to two guys, for a month or two now. Neither one of them seems quite as perfect for me as that nice, widowed doctor Clay pretended to be. But that could be because they’re real people. At least so far I think they are. Could be a while before I get up enough nerve to meet either of them in the real world to be sure. You think there’s any chance one of them might alibi me?”