“Why, Lucille, how nice you stopped by. It’s been a while since you’ve been in. And to think, the Romeos were here just this morning and we were talking about you.” She sounded as delighted as a child peeking around the corner to see what was under the tree on Christmas Day.

You’d think the place had CCTV or maybe Thelma really had eyes in the back of her head because it was uncanny how she always knew who had walked in. Even if you couldn’t see her because you were tucked away at the far end of one of the aisles.

I stepped out into the open. “How did you know it was me?”

She tapped her temple with a finger. “Aside from my extrasensible psychotic perception which means I just know things, your Jeep’s parked right outside the window where I can see it.”

“Oh.”

As for what she and the Romeos had been discussing that involved me, I’d find out soon enough. Thelma had a way of getting information out of you before you knew what happened, and doing it so effectively you didn’t see the blood until it was all over. As Quinn liked to say, she’d be a great asset for any country’s intelligence service.

She was somewhere north of eighty, or so everyone thought—her age was a more carefully guarded secret than the nuclear codes. Nevertheless she dressed with the saucy sexiness of a kid who intended to sneak out of the house before a parent could tell her to go upstairs and change into something respectable and not that low-cut, short, or tight, young lady.

Thelma didn’t care; she wore her eye-catching outfits with va-va-voom verve and a refreshing effervescence. You couldn’t help but admire her: makeup applied with a gardening trowel to cover wrinkles as deep as canyons, hair a shade of orange not found anywhere in nature, and as flirtatious as Scarlett O’Hara surrounded by her beaus at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks. Today she was dressed in Santa-suit red, a short, tight, long-sleeved shift with a wide black belt and white cuffs on the sleeves. Red stiletto heels and a reindeer antler headband to keep her carrot-colored hair off her face.

“So, tell me. What can I get for you today, Lucille?” She propped her elbows on the counter next to her cash register, folded her hands together, and regarded me.

“I just stopped by for a few things,” I said. “Actually, I’ve already finished shopping. I got everything I needed.”