In the Company of Liars

THREE DAYS EARLIER
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 22

Allison has shopped at a different Countryside Grocery Store before, where she and Mat used to live, but this is her first time setting foot in one for years. She likes the anonymity, from the outset, not knowing the butcher and deli clerks, not having to look at the expressions on their faces when she approaches.

No one seems to take notice of her as she plucks granola, a jar of jalapeсo-stuffed olives off the shelves.

No one seems to take notice, that is, except for one man. A man in a heavy coat, a flannel shirt, a baseball cap. Not a bad-looking guy, a big frame. He smiles at her and holds up his hands cautiously. She realizes that she is standing alone in this particular aisle with the man.

“I’m not a vulture, Mrs. Pagone,” he says, showing her his palms and maintaining a respectful distance. “I’m a journalist but not one ofthose kind. I have a proposition for you, and all I ask-all I ask is that when you’re done shopping, you let me buy you a cup of coffee in the cafй in the corner.” He waves his hands. “That’s it. I think you’ll be very happy you did. And their coffee’s surprisingly good.”

Allison looks down at her cart. “Iam done shopping,” she says.

“One cup of coffee. I’m going over there now, you can forget you ever met me if you want. But I think you’ll be glad you heard me out. I think I can be of some assistance. Iknow I can be.”

Allison chews on her lip. The man passes her without another word.

She takes her time, going through another couple of aisles. She peeks at the corner cafй and sees the man sitting, reading a newspaper, joking with the woman who served him.

She pushes her cart over to the area and parks. “Okay,” she says. “Five minutes.”

The man pushes a cup of steaming coffee in front of her.

“I know I’m not the first journalist to approach you, Mrs. Pagone.”

“You’re about the twentieth. I had to change my phone number.”

He extends his hand. “My name’s Larry Evans,” he says.