A Bird Doesn't Sing Because It Has An Answer

Smoothing the front of her sleek black Helmut Lang blazer, Faith awaited the waitress.

The check. Faith set her card. Before the waitress could take it.
"Say," spoken with well rehearsed grace, "I don't mean to intrude, but wasn't there a murder in town a month or so back?"

The waitress held Faith's eyes a moment, wavering, judging.
"Are you here investigating?"

Shaking her head nonchalantly, "Just curious. I'll be in town a few days if we can meet after you get off work. I just have a few questions. Off the record."

The victim's aunt hesitated. Shrugged. "Sure. Ok."