She Wore Mourning by P.D. Workman (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

could focus on the show, and they didn’t even finish it. Kenzie looked at her watch and announced the need to go home, and Zachary didn’t have the energy to argue with her about it. She tried to brush him off at the door, but he walked her down to her car like a gentleman, patting the top of her trunk.

“Sweet ride.”

She patted the little red sports car. “It’s my one indulgence,” she said with a laugh. She bent closer to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but was turned around and sliding into the vehicle before he could reciprocate.

Without making any plans to get together again, or even so much as a ‘see you later,’ she shut the door and pulled away. Zachary watched the car until it drove out of sight, then made his way up to his apartment.

One of the good things about being a private detective was that on nights he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he could work. There was always some surveillance that he could do, following a straying spouse, or else he could stay in and run backgrounds and do other computer work.

He was too restless to sit at the computer, so he donned dark clothing, grabbed his cameras, and headed out. He had a new case, an executive who believed that his wife, a high school principal, was out fooling around when she claimed to be out with her girl friends or working late.

Zachary had her cell phone number, to which he’d previously texted a video file. The video file had a GPS app embedded in it, and provided she was curious enough to see what video an anonymous sender had texted her; he would be able to pinpoint her exact location. He opened the tracker app on his phone and noted the locations of his most recent targets. He noted with satisfaction that the principal now showed up as a virtual pin on the satellite map. A zoom-in suggested she was probably in Rancheros, a rowdy cowboy bar, rather than stuck at her desk grading papers or doing whatever it was principals did.

Once at the bar, he scanned the faces of the patrons, looking for her. He had a good head for faces and didn’t need to pull up her picture on his phone to refresh his memory. The bar was busy, the lighting dim with strobing dance lights, and had some private booths that it wasn’t easy to see into unless a person were right beside them. He worked his way around the dining area and eventually spotted her at a booth, sitting across from a younger woman, a heavily made-up brunette.

The principal was a blond. Not with bright, shining locks like Bridget’s pre-chemo hair, but a dirty blond with short, messy curls. She was comfortably overweight, with the middle-age spread of many fifty-year-old women. Zachary looked for somewhere he could sit to observe them unobtrusively. He found a booth that hadn’t yet been cleared of its dirty dishes and sat down, pushing them aside and pretending to be intently interested in something on his phone. He didn’t look at the two women. If they glanced at him, they would see nothing but a man occupied with his phone, like any other man who was waiting for his date, or whose wife had abandoned him to go to the bathroom.

“Uh…” a skimpily-clad cowboy waitress hovered over Zachary. “I’m sorry, this table isn’t ready yet, maybe I could…”

“It’s fine,” Zachary said, “just clear it. I’m waiting for a friend, and she wanted somewhere… private. This is perfect. Thanks.”

“But…” She stood there for a minute, then shrugged. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

She cleared away the dishes. “I’ll be back to wipe the table down in two shakes.”

“Thank you. Much appreciated.”

She gave him a nod and a strained smile and took the dishes back toward the kitchen.

Zachary snuck a glance at the ladies at the other table. The younger one was looking his way, and he tried a friendly smile and raised eyebrow. She looked quickly away from him and back at her friend, Principal Montgomery.

Zachary again pretended to be busy with his phone, watching them covertly. He tried to pick up on their vibes. Two coworkers out for an after-work drink? An assignation? Parent-teacher conference?

The dim lights made it difficult to make out more than general features, but a couple of times, dance lights flashed over the ladies’ faces. Zachary frowned, studying the second woman’s features.

She was young. Younger than he had first thought. Certainly, not the parent of a student. Maybe a student teacher or office aide. Or a therapist who came in to work with the students. He had seen baby-faced professionals before.

Teachers who could almost be mistaken for their students.

The girl’s makeup was heavy and had contributed to the impression that she was older. Which was, he assumed, the reason she was wearing it. She was trying to hide the fact that she wasn’t old enough to be in the bar, even if it was just soda in her tall glass.

Rather that pull out his full-size camera, Zachary brought up the low-light photography app on his phone. He braced his elbows on the table to minimize any camera shake, and aimed his camera lens at the two ladies, with their heads close together. He looked around casually, keeping his body language relaxed, so it only looked like he was reading or looking something up on his phone instead of taking a picture. He snapped several stills, and then a short video of the two women. While he had the video running, the younger woman reached across the table and held the principal’s hand.

Bingo!

The waitress returned, wiped down the table, and pulled out her order pad. “What can I getcha? Or are you waiting for your friend?”

“How about two coffees, to start?” he suggested.

Her face relaxed a bit, and she nodded. “Sure. Nothing else? Desserts? Drinks?”

“We might have to get one of those hot