Tori put the cups in the dishwasher and tossed out the coffee grounds. She usually had toast for breakfast, but she was feeling a little queasy that morning. Nerves? Baby? Both probably. She decided to grab a roll and butter on her way into the office. Too bad she had stuffed her face with all that rugelach the night before. She should have saved one piece for the morning. She called out, “I’m heading out. See you tonight.” He grumbled something in return. She grabbed her purse, jacket, and keys and moved swiftly out the door. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be sick, and she didn’t want to answer any questions if she barfed in front of him.

As soon as she got in her car her stomach calmed down. She pulled down the visor and took a peek at herself in the mirror. At least she didn’t look pale, or on the verge of turning green.

Tori drove the fifteen minutes it took to get to the local coffee shop. She’d get a donut for Mr. Layton while she was there. While she was waiting for her order to come, she saw a woman behind the counter give her a strange look. Tori thought she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. She’d paid for her bag of carbohydrates and started toward the door when she heard her name being called. She stopped and turned. It was the same woman who had been looking at her a few minutes earlier. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“I know you.” The gray-haired woman gestured for Tori to come closer to the counter.

“What can I do for you?” Tori was puzzled.

The woman leaned closer. “It’s more like what I can do for you,” she said with an odd expression.

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, but you will. Stop by Ringo’s on Thursday night.”

“What is this about?” Tori was baffled.

“Honey, I seen you come in here a lot. You’re married to that cop, right?”

“Well, yes, but . . .”

“Ringo’s. Thursday. Around nine.”

“But . . .” Tori stammered, but the woman turned away and moved toward the back, into the kitchen.

Tori got into her car. She was mystified. Why on earth would a stranger approach her and tell her to be at Ringo’s on Thursday? Sure, that was her husband’s usual night out with the guys. It was a bar and pool hall. She had been there less than a half dozen times. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d take the family for dinner, nor was it a place for any respectable woman to be hanging around.

She shrugged and drove the last five minutes of her commute to the office. When she arrived, she noticed that Mr. Layton was already at his desk. She stuck her head inside his door. “Good morning!” She jiggled the bag.

“Oh dear, you didn’t.” He groaned.