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seeing another woman. LulaJean, and—”
    “Waitaminute.” The fog cleared from Bebe’s muddled six a.m. brain and she took Brie’s arm. “LulaJean is on the down side of forty and sings jazz at the Blue Note. The only time Beau would visit the Blue Note was if Kenny Chesney paid a visit. LulaJean is not Beau’s type. You are.”
    Brie jutted her chin and reached for the coffeemaker; the cats stared adoringly at the can opener. “For your information, I did go to Magnolia House yesterday but left ’cause I was feeling poorly after seeing Beau…my Beau…skedaddling out the back door pretty as you please with that other woman. And I like LulaJean, I truly do, and now this. But why do I even care? The man kisses worse than a hound dog, so I should do myself a big favor and let him go, right?”
    Brie started coffee and Bebe spooned cat food into crystal glasses. Some cats had owners, hers had staff, least that’s what the pillow in her office said.
    “Maybe he’s so pitiful with me because he’s truly into LulaJean…and if I can’t get things going with Beau soon, Mama’s going to insist I go to that medical convention with Lamont Laskin and I’d just as soon jump off the Talmadge Bridge, thank you very much.”
    “Doctor Lamont Laskin? As in chief of surgery Laskin? Family on the board of hospitals, libraries, theaters, and every museum in Savannah Laskin? Honey, Beau could be the king of sex, but he’s the local gangster’s son, your daddy’s a judge and Laskin is a catch, least by your parents’ standards. Do you see a teeny little problem in the making here?”
    “But if I knew for sure that Beau and I were good together, I would fight for him and make Mama and Daddy understand how I feel.”
    “I hate to tell you this, but that most unfortunate Yankee occupation of some years past would be a trifling skirmish compared to the fight you’d have on your hands with your parents over you getting together with Beau when you could have Lamont. I know your mama and your daddy does what your mama says. Beau’s a lost cause and not because of LulaJean.”
    “But I love him,” Brie wailed in a very non–Southern belle way that would cause her mama to throw a hissy. “I truly do, and I can’t help it, so I have to find a way to make this work. You’re the police, what can one person do to another and get away with legally?”
    “Well you can’t go shooting Lamont for sniffing after you; that just proves the man has good taste. And you can’t shoot Beau for bad sex, though I’m sure there are women out there who have given that one a thought or two.”
    “Good grief! I want to fornicate with the man, Be, not render him deader than General Lee, bless his soul. So, I can do almost anything and get away with it?”
    “Beau’s a gentleman and whereas he might not take a liking to what you have in mind right off, if you get him in the right kind of mood I bet he’s probably not going to press charges. But for heaven’s sake leave me out of it. If I know what’s going on, then I have to do something about it.”
    “Sort of like Ray Cleveland and the gambling, which gets me to the second reason I’m here. Prissy sent me, something about you seducing the new detective in town. Does that man from Boston really want to be putting Ray Cleveland in jail? What is he thinking? Men and their notions.” Brie headed for the bedroom.
    Bebe stomped after Brie, getting madder by the minute. “I just knew Priss wouldn’t let this go. You’re not going to find anything in my closet that qualifies as seduction apparel. If you and Prissy would have been around for the scene at the Magnolia House bar yesterday, you’d know Donovan McCabe wouldn’t be attracted to me no matter how many buttons I undo. The sexpot ship has sailed.” She caught sight of herself in the hall mirror—electrified hair, baggy eyes, cat fur in her brows. She stifled a scream. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think that particular