“Kathi Daly?” Angie said as she approached the counter.
The woman glanced up briefly before returning to piping icing. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Angie Pallorino. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there someplace we can talk for a minute?”
“Talk away. If customers come in, you’ll have to take a back seat. I don’t have anyone to fill in for me right now.”
Angie watched as Kathi finished her icing job. Confronted with silence, the woman was forced to look up again. Irritation tightened Kathi’s features, which were already pinched with the passage of time and a look of bitterness. Her harshly dyed blonde bob against a dulled complexion further aged the woman. In Kathi Daly’s case, the years had not been kind.
“I don’t know why you bothered to come,” she said, laying down her icing bag and wiping her hands across her apron. “There’s nothing I can tell you in person that I couldn’t have done on the phone.”
“I appreciate you seeing me,” Angie said. “I like to talk to people face-to-face.”That way I can tell a whole lot more about you, like whether you’re lying. Or hiding something. Or whether you’re just a bitter old crone ...
“I was wondering if you could walk me through what you remember from that last night in camp before Jasmine Gulati disappeared over the falls.”
“Rachel said she told you what happened already.”
“Did Rachel call and prep you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would she do that?”
Kathi snorted. “To tell me I was under no obligation to talk to a nosy PI. Because she didn’t want her friends to be bothered on her account. This was her trip, she organized it, and she feels bad that you’re snooping around interviewing everyone now. Looking for blame.”
“Rachel said I was seeking to blame someone?”
“Aren’t you? Isn’t that what high-and-mighty folk like Justice Monaghan always do—sue someone? Try to blame the organizers, or the guides, or—”
“I’m only trying to answer some questions for a grieving grandmother, Kathi. That’s all. Justice Monaghan has questions about her granddaughter and what was happening in her life prior to the accident.”
“Well, I’ll give you my angle straight, then. I didn’t like Jaz. I think a lot of people disliked her. She was an arrogant slut.”
“Because she slept with one of the guides?”
“He was married.”
Angie crooked a brow. “From the film footage, you looked pretty interested in married Garrison Tollet yourself.”
Kathi’s eyes narrowed sharply. She said nothing.
“From what the others say, you and Jaz seemed to hit it off on the trip, spent time sharing drinks, talking around the fire.”
“Drunks love company. That’s all it was.”
“She ever tell you who gave her this ring?” Angie set the photo of Jasmine’s diamond cluster atop the counter. “Maybe Jaz mentioned a fiancé or significant other while you were having drunken tête-à-têtes around the campfire?”
“You kidding? It was her big secret.”
“She write about this secret in her journal?”
“I have no idea. Look—”
“Do you know what happened to that journal, Kathi? It had a purple cover. Here—” Angie laid on the counter the group photo that included Jasmine holding her journal. “She’s holding the book in this photo.”
