"I could handle coffee," Rainie said at last, her voice booming off the marble.

"Decaf or regular?"

"Never saw the point to decaf."

Mary Olsen smiled. Rainie thought the expression appeared tight on her face. She was nervous, Rainie realized. Little Mrs. Doctor Olsen was frightened of her.

Wow, she felt good for the first time in days.

Mary descended the stairs. She held on to the railing with both hands, which Rainie found interesting. So the former waitress was now living in a mansion, but obviously still not comfortable about it. When Mary hit floor level, Rainie got her second surprise. The woman was three inches taller than Rainie and had the dark eyes and sultry features of a Supermodel. That explained Dr. Olsen's interest, but he was dressing her all wrong. Screw Laura Ashley. Mary should be running around in V-neck dresses colored deep, sinner's red. Then again, the Olsens would probably go through a lot more butlers that way.

"We'll go into the front parlor," Mary said, her features carefully blank. "Follow me."

Rainie dutifully followed. The front parlor turned out to be bigger than her whole loft, crowded with white-painted French antiques, and decorated with more pale colors, this time blue and cream. When Mary sat on the delicate loveseat, her dress blended right into the silk-covered cushions. One minute Rainie was with a person, next minute it looked like she was interviewing a sofa with a head.

"As I mentioned on the phone," Rainie said, "I have a few simple questions about Amanda Quincy."

Mary held up a hand. "The coffee, please."

Rainie blinked, feeling gauche. Then she realized that good old Jeeves was hovering with a silver tray bearing an antique coffee urn and two tiny china cups. He set the serving tray down on a side table and did the honors of pouring the first dose. Rainie accepted hers with genuine trepidation. The paper-thin china looked old, rare, and highly fragile. She was guessing that it held approximately three sips of coffee, at which time she'd be forced to refill the cup herself from the heavy silver pot. Maybe she'd just nurse this batch.

"Nice place," Rainie tried, attempting to balance the teacup on her knee while still trying to figure out why Mandy's best friend appeared so nervous.

"It's been in my husband's family for generations."

"He's a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Works lots of hours?"

"Of course. He's one of the best neurosurgeons in the country and his patients need him."

Rainie was getting a few things now. "Older?"

"In his forties."

"Met him where you used to work, huh? Went from best tipper to permanent meal ticket. Not bad."

Mary flushed. "I suppose you could look at it that way."

"Oh no, trust me, I admire you. Wouldn't mind meeting a neurosurgeon, myself."

"Mark's a wonderful husband." Mary was still in defensive mode.

"Mark and Mary. Oh yeah, those Christmas cards have got to be killers."

"I thought you said you were working on Mandy's accident."

"You're right; I'm getting off track. So about the night in question – "

"What about that night?" Mary interrupted. "I'm afraid I don't understand the reason for this interview. The accident happened over a year ago. Mandy got drunk, she drove. She did that sometimes, you know. I don't see any point in you being here."

"Well, I heard about the coffee, thought I'd stop by." Rainie sighed at the confused look on Mary's face. Sarcasm was definitely lost on the woman. "So, about that night. You told Mandy's father that she had come over to play cards."

"That's right. We always played cards on Wednesday night. At least we did."

"Who's we?"

"Mandy, myself, Tommy, and Sue."

"You knew each other from…"

"We used to work together, at the restaurant, before I met Mark. Why is this relevant?" Mary had that tight look on her face again.

"Just asking," Rainie replied lightly. "So the four of you are playing cards."

"Hi-low-jack," Mary supplied.

"Great. Hi-low-jack. Party starts at…."

"I wouldn't call it a party," Mary said immediately. "We were drinking soda, you know. I told Mr. Quincy that we were drinking Coke."

"I got that. Playing cards, drinking Coke. You started at?"

"Nine, maybe ten. Sue's still a waitress and she had the dinner shift."

"You guys started that late on a weeknight?"

"Sue and Mandy waitressed, Tommys a bartender. So they don't have to be at work until noon at the earliest. And I… well, hours don't really matter much for me anymore."

Rainie thought she detected a trace of bitterness there. All was not well with Cinderella and Prince Charming. "You played cards until?"

"Two-thirty."

"Drinking soda the whole time."

"Yes," Mary said quickly. Too quickly. She looked down at her lap, where her fingers were now intertwined. Here we go, Rainie thought.

"You told Mandy's father that she didn't have anything to drink other than Diet Coke."

"I said I didn't see her drink anything other than Diet Coke."

"You didn't see?"

"I didn't see."

Rainie stood up. She put her cup back on the silver tray, happy to be rid of breakable objects. Then she turned back on Mary, and this time her gaze was hard.

"Didn't see, Mary? Didn't see? Now why does that seem to imply that Mandy might have been drinking after all, butyou don't want to admit it?"

Mary's gaze had become fixated on her lap. She untangled her fingers, twisted the three-carat rock on her left hand, then tangled her fingers back up again.

"I swear I didn't know," she whispered.

"Do us both a favor, Mary. Spit it out."

Mary's head jerked up. Her eyes were growing darker; maybe Mrs. Doctor Olsen had some fire in her after all. "She carried the Diet Coke can with her everywhere, okay? I didn't think much of it at the time, but Mandy kept the can with her everywhere. You know, even when she went into the bathroom."

"You think she might have been mixing her own drink on the side. Looks like Diet Coke, smells like Diet Coke, oops so I added a little rum."

"It wouldn't have been the first time."

"Alcoholics do learn some good tricks," Rainie agreed, though personally she'd never been one for mixed drinks. For her, it would always be beer. "Well, let's think about this, Mary. Amanda is doing a little bartending of her own. You say she got here ten at the latest, and didn't leave until two-thirty. That's at least four and a half hours of spiked Diet Coke. Couldn't you tell?"

"No," Mary said immediately. There was a clarity to her voice now, certainty that had been previously lacking. Interesting. "That was the thing with Mandy," Mary continued earnestly. "No matter how much she had to drink, she always seemed fine. Functional. Back when we were working, she used to brag about her tolerance. We all believed her. We never thought… never would've thought, that she had a problem."

"So her joining AA was news to you?"

"Yes. Though later, when we all looked back on things, it made sense. There were some nights after closing that she'd sit in the bar and down eight drinks before heading home. Even if she seemed all right, how right could she be? She wasn't much bigger than me and alcohol doesn't exactly evaporate from your bloodstream."

"So she could've been sneaking drinks that night and you wouldn't have known?"

"Yes." Mary nodded her head emphatically. "That's true."

"What about this mystery man?"

"Mystery man?" Mary blinked.

"At the funeral, you implied to Quincy that Mandy had met someone. The new love of her life."

"No, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"No. I'm not sure where Mr.Quincy got that idea. I don't remember saying any such thing. Why would I say such a thing?" Mary spoke in a rush.

Rainie cocked her head to the side. She regarded Mary intently. "Maybe Quincy misunderstood you."