Heather waited on me when I returned to the little restaurant the next morning. While I was ordering coffee and a pastry, she recognized me.
“Daisy Wilson, how are you,” she said.
“I’m good, Heather. How are you?”
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m looking forward to starting classes next week at Denhurst College. I love to learn.”
“What’s your major?” I inquired.
“Pre-law,” the pretty Beta replied.
“You’ll make a great lawyer,” I told her. “I was going to study law too, but a friend talked me into journalism.”
I looked around at the mostly empty restaurant. I deliberately arrived during the slower time between breakfast and lunch.
“I’m practicing my investigative skills with a story I think needs to be brought to everyone’s attention,” I said. “I’d like to speak to you briefly abou
