“I can’t make her talk,” Ginny whispered. “Try asking Joe or Pete.”

“Are they likely to share anything she told them with me?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny answered. “Pammy wasn’t well loved by our little group.”

“Could she have made contact with any other freegans?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think there are any others in Stoneham. And she didn’t seem to stray too far while she was in town.”

Lisa caught up to Pete. They conversed in hushed tones. Was she telling him that Tricia wanted information on Pammy? If so, was he likely to clam up as well?

Joe and Brian veered off the sidewalk, down a side street.

“We’re almost at the Italian market,” Ginny said.

“What are we likely to find here, besides steak?”

“They don’t toss out a lot of jars or cans. The meat we found last time was freezer burned, which means they tossed it in their freezer when the expiration date got too close, then they didn’t end up selling it. But it was edible. It was still partially frozen when we found it. We keep a cooler in the car so we can keep perishables like that fresher.”

Tricia found it hard to hide her revulsion.

“Don’t let the others see you making faces,” Ginny warned, “or they’re likely to ask you to go back to the car.”

“It’s hard for me to understand why you’re doing this.”

“We’ve been over it before.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be on my best behavior for the rest of the evening. I promise.”

Once again, a bright light shone over the Dumpster, bathing it and the small parking lot in a soft glow. This time it was Brian who did the dirty work and climbed into the large metal receptacle.

“Don’t you worry about rats?” Tricia whispered to Ginny.

“Why do you think I don’t jump in the Dumpster myself?”

The others stood around, waiting for Brian to make a judgment call on the contents of the trash bin. He opened a black trash bag. “Anybody want stale cookies?”

“I’ll take them,” Lisa said, and he tossed the bag down to her.

“Having fun?” Eugenia asked Tricia.

“It’s certainly a learning experience.”

“There’s some skanky lettuce here, but the celery looks passable,” Brian said, and tossed rubber-banded bunches down to Joe, who distributed it around the group.

“I hope we find more usable vegetables. I’ve got a hankering to make some soup tomorrow,” Eugenia said, and stamped her feet against the encroaching chill.

“Do you guys ever worry about being chased off?” Tricia asked.

“Sometimes it happens. Sometimes neighbors will call the cops, thinking we’re trying to break in or steal something more valuable than veggies and jars of pepperoncini. The grocery stores could prosecute us for trespassing, but most of them don’t want to draw attention to the amount of stuff they’re putting into the waste stream.”

“Have you ever done this during daylight hours?”

“I have,” Eugenia admitted, “but it isn’t as much fun. People can be cruel and say nasty things to you, too. I prefer to do it under the cover of darkness, but you need a really good flashlight.”

“Do you ever jump in the Dumpsters?”

“Oh, sure. My dad and I have been doing this for years.” She watched as Brian sorted through another bag of trash. “I’m sorry if I was short with you a while back. My mom wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Your mom’s a great lady. I really admire the work she does for the Food Shelf.”

“I do, too. About your friend… she tagged along with Dad the last couple of times we went out-probably because they’re closer in age. You might want to ask him about her.”

“Thanks, Eugenia.” And I’ll give you a nice fat tip the next time I’m at the diner. Now she had to figure out how to get Joe away from the crowd and willing to talk.

“Jackpot!” Brian called, and brandished a bottle of virgin olive oil, which he held high over his head. “Looks like there’re eight of them here.”

“You’re the one in up to your knees, so you get the extra one,” Joe said.

Brian passed the bottles down to everyone.

“I think that’s about all we’re going to get here tonight,” Brian announced, and climbed over the edge of the Dumpster.

“Where to now?” Tricia asked Ginny. “Do we go get coffee or something?”

“That kind of negates the reason we’re out here,” Lisa said snidely. “We’re trying to leave a smaller carbon footprint-not pollute the world with more paper cups from take-out joints.”

Tricia figured she’d better not mention the sub she, Ginny, and Brian had eaten before they’d joined up with this group-or the papers the sandwich had been wrapped in, the bag it came in, the plastic bottles they’d drunk from, and the disposable napkins that had all entered the convenience store’s trash bin.

“There are restaurants that use china mugs, Lees,” Eugenia said.

Lisa merely sniffed.

“We could try Hannaford,” Pete suggested, changing the subject. “Last week we got those pineapples, oranges, and lemons that were in pretty good shape.”

Joe shook his head. “I prefer to stick to smaller markets. Besides, I’m ready to call it a night.”

“Well, I’m not,” Lisa said sourly. “Besides, the gas Brian used to get here is too expensive to drive all this way and only look in a couple of Dumpsters.”

“I think we’ll call it quits, too,” Brian said, backing up Joe.

“You guys just don’t get it,” Lisa said with a shake of her head, and mounted her bike. “Come on, Pete,” she called over her shoulder. She shoved off and pedaled toward the main drag once more.

“Sorry, guys,” Pete said with a shrug, got on his own bike, and started off after his girlfriend. “PMS or something, I guess. See you next week?”

“You got it,” Brian said.

The five of them looked at one another. “Not much of a score tonight,” Ginny said.

“I dunno,” Eugenia said, and jerked a thumb toward the street, bidding the others to follow. “That olive oil alone was worth the trip. That size bottle retails for over ten bucks. You guys got three, and Dad and I got two-that more than makes up for the fuel we used to get here.”

Ginny fell into step behind her, with Brian tagging along behind. That left Tricia right where she wanted to be-walking alongside Joe. “You’ve got a really great kid there,” she told him.

“Thanks. We think so.”

They walked for a few moments in silence before Tricia spoke again. “Did Ginny tell you why I wanted to tag along?”

“Something about wanting to see what your friend was up to. Sorry about your loss.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I thought I knew Pammy. We’d been friends for a long time. But-when it came down to it, I really didn’t know her at all. Did she tell you much about her life?”

“Just that she was broke, but she thought that was going to change.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that from more than one person. Did she say how that was going to happen?”

Joe shook his head. “Seems to me she was the type of woman who always had a harebrained scheme she was working.” He stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect your friendship with Pam.”

Tricia managed a grim laugh, and they began walking again. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first one to think that about Pammy. She always had bad luck. Always seemed one step ahead of the repo man.”

“It’s sad, really. A woman like that. Very few friends, a family she was on the outs with.”

“She told you all that?”

He nodded. “Do you know her family?”

Tricia thought back. In all the years she’d known Pammy, she’d never met any of her family. “No. But she always said they didn’t have two nickels to rub together. I can’t imagine why she thought she was about to come into money. She certainly didn’t mention it to me.”

He shrugged.

“And why was she hanging around Stoneham for so long?”

“The night I met her, she told me she wanted to attend the Food Shelf’s dedication. The thing is, it kept getting delayed. Something to do with the HVAC systems. Libby could tell you why.”