“Nice dress.”
“Too fancy for the Cooler.” She enjoyed his admiration and the smoothness of the lager. “I have to be someplace else at eight o’clock.”
When he put his glass down, his appreciative gaze had taken on a hint of calculation. As though he suspected she was lying. Yet, his tone remained amiable.
“Heard you’re going to pull Timothy Randall’s corpse out of the grave.”
“Going to try,” she said. ‘Preciate you giving me the idea.”
“Glad you appreciated it,” he replied. “Marianne Freemantle didn’t.”
“Oh? You want to tell me why you’re so sure she didn’t?”
“Be glad to.”
He slid his beer glass to one side and leaned toward her, lowering his voice.
“And you can tell me why Freemantle’s so damn interested in you.”
She puffed out air, a snort of disbelief. “Like you don’t know.”
“
