Azalea didn’t appear to be in costume, unless her sensible print dress, short jacket, and comfortable shoes were clues to a character I didn’t recognize. Frankly, I wasn’t surprised because somehow I couldn’t see Azalea consenting to dress up as someone else.

Kanesha, on the other hand, was dressed in far different fashion from the manner in which I usually encountered her. No uniform tonight—instead she wore a sleek, bright orange pantsuit, and large bangles in her ears. Her hair was pulled severely back with a large bun jutting upward. A purple and orange scarf cinched her waist, and her high-heeled purple pumps completed the outfit. I knew she was a mystery fan, but I hadn’t a clue whether she was dressed in costume or simply as herself.

Her companion, who looked to be at least six foot six, towered over her. His clothing was in stark contrast to Kanesha’s because he looked like he’d bought the cheapest things he could find and put them on without washing and ironing them first. Khakis with a sharp crease and a drab flannel shirt with the collar of a T-shirt just visible at his neckline. Except for his height, he would blend into the woodwork, but perhaps that was the intention.

It took me a moment—because I hadn’t yet read any of the books—but I figured it out. Jack Reacher, the hero of Lee Child’s series. Teresa was a big fan, I knew, and we had talked about the series several times.

Kanesha spotted Helen Louise and me and looked up at her companion. They spoke briefly, then approached us along with Azalea.

“Good evening, Azalea.” Helen Louise extended a hand, and my housekeeper grasped it briefly. “How lovely to see you here tonight.”

“Somebody insisted I had to tag along.” Azalea glowered at her daughter. “Ain’t got much use for dressing up and carrying on. Especially knowing who’s going to be here.”

That was probably a reference to Vera Cassity, and I sent up a quick but fervent prayer that Vera stayed out of Azalea’s way.

“Mama, I’m sure you’d enjoy yourself if you tried.” Kanesha’s long-suffering tone elicited another hard glance from her mother.

“I understand, Azalea, believe me.” I smiled. “I’d much rather be home right now. All these people milling around make me feel tired.”

“You a homebody like me, Mr. Charlie.” Azalea nodded in approval. “Although you do get to gadding about sometimes and being nosy.”

“Mama.” Kanesha invested the word with years of wrangling with her parent. I sympathized with her, especially given my recent experience with Azalea.

“Evening, folks.” Kanesha’s friend spoke, probably tired of waiting for his companion to recall her manners and introduce him. He stuck out a hand. “Robert Sharp. Nice to meet you.”

I quickly introduced myself and Helen Louise.

“You’ve been in my bakery a couple of times,” she said. “As I recall you’re pretty fond of my bacon and onion quiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, I surely am.” Sharp’s slow drawl marked him as a fellow Southerner, and I wondered whether he’d grown up in Athena. “I can’t eat it too often, though, have to watch my cholesterol.”