“Zip,” I said and hit delete.
“Zip, zap,” I said again as I rid my machines of the four messages from Geez Louise Urko. No doubt, my hyperactive literary agent also wanted to talk sales figures, since no doubt, Roslynn was keeping her posted on the whole book-banning debacle.
“If I know Louise, she’s happy about this latest publicity,” I said, and Snowflake yawned.
“But what about Gabby?” I asked. Remembering that Superintendent Yates is not accustomed to waiting, I hit the play button.
“Did I do okay with Jimmy?” Her voice sounded almost breathless. “If I didn’t, I can try again tomorrow.” She skipped a beat. “But perhaps we should wait and see about this new stunt he’s threatening.”
I hit re-dial.
***
“What stunt?” I asked.
“Jessie?” Gabby answered. “I’ve been waiting for your call. How did it go today? What did you learn?”
“Not much.” I summarized the basics of my sleuthing efforts and concluded Miriam Jilton was stellar. “But how about you?” I asked. “What have you learned?”
“Nothing.” Gabby sighed. “I called a faculty staff meeting after school this afternoon. But as you know, Dr. Dempsey wasn’t even there, and everyone else was tight-lipped. I was reduced to begging. ‘Can’t anyone tell me anything?’ I asked, and some clown in the back of the auditorium called out ‘Anything-schmenything!’”
The superintendent huffed and puffed. “I’ll give them anything-schmenything!” she said and hung up.
“But, Gabby!” I said to the dial tone. “What about Jimmy’s stunt?”
***
“Where are you!?” the frantic voice of Candy Poppe asked. Remembering life is short, I had skipped her earlier messages and gone straight to the last. “I have something to tell you,” she continued. “I’ve been waiting and waiting, and calling and calling. Why don’t you answer? Did you even watch TV tonight? Do you even know about Jimmy Beak’s stunt?”
She took a deep breath. “Meet me at the bar,” she said. “Karen and I need a drink.”
The lone phone message from Karen was equally disconcerting. “Didn’t I warn you to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer?” she asked. “Kiddo and I are headed to the bar. We need a drink.”
I turned off both phones and told Snowflake I’d be at the bar. “Apparently I need a drink.”
***
My friends rushed over the moment they saw me, took me by the elbows, and escorted me through The Stone Fountain to our regular spot at the bar.
“Champagne!” Candy ordered, and Charlie handed me a glass before my bottom even hit the bar stool.
Karen gestured to Matthew. “We need The Beatles over here!”
“Already on it.” Matthew looked up from fumbling with the stereo and pointed to the speakers. “This fits,” he said, and I listened to the first line of “Help!”
Everyone watched while I took a slow sip of bubbly. “Okay, I’m ready.” I braced myself. “Exactly why do I need help?”
Matthew and Charlie went back to busying themselves with bartending tasks, Karen became exceedingly interested in her Corona, and Candy started chewing her knuckle—never a good sign.
Nevertheless, I remained calm and apologized for not getting back to her sooner. “Things with Peter took longer than expected,” I said. I turned to Karen and explained my afternoon sleuthing expedition. “Peter graciously agreed to be my chauffeur for that round.”
“Wilson’s gonna kill you.”
“Well then, he’ll happy to know I’m getting nowhere. There are far too many good guys in this case, and zero bad. And speaking of bad guys.” I faced Candy. “What’s Jimmy Beak up to? What’s this stunt everyone’s alluding to?”
She removed her fist from her mouth. “He’s going after your past, Jessie.”
***
“Surprise interview! Surprise interview!” Candy flapped her arms, imitating Jimmy Beak, and I pulled myself out of shock.
“Who?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise. Don’t you know what surprise means?”
“Whoever it is, you won’t have to wonder for long,” Karen said. “Jimmy’s promising to broadcast this stunt tomorrow morning.”
“A ‘mystery guest’ from your past.” Candy made air quotes with her fingers. “I think he’s trying to embarrass you.”
“You think?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, and I rolled my eyes.
“Maybe it’s Ian,” Karen suggested, and I groaned accordingly.
Had Ian called to gloat in all those phone messages I had erased so recklessly? Had he actually spoken to Jimmy? About me?
I blinked twice.
My ex did know a few things about my past that Jimmy could twist and distort. More specifically, Ian knew about my glory days sharking in pool halls.
“No,” I said firmly. Perhaps a bit too firmly. “Ian wouldn’t risk ruining his own reputation by mentioning anything even remotely embarrassing about me.”
“Well then, you’re safe,” Karen said. “It’s not like you have a sordid past anyway.”
“Karen.” I pulled her close and whispered. “I have a minor arrest record, remember? From my pool-hustling days.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t even born yet.” That was Candy. “No one can hold something that ancient against you.”
Karen agreed. She argued, quietly, that some might even consider me pool-sharking my way through college as proof of my glowing character. “It shows you’re resourceful.”
“And that arrest was way back in the sixties,” Candy added.
I folded my arms and glared. “Try 1982. I was in college, for Lord’s sake. Not grade school.”
“Even so, a misdemeanor at age twenty is no big deal.”
I asked if she thought Alistair Pritt would be quite so open-minded.
***
Even so, it was too late to alter the course of history. Jimmy would pull his stunt, Alistair would work himself into a reinvigorated, self-righteous tizzy, and yours truly would be suitably embarrassed. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
I moved on and asked Candy what else she had learned during her excursion into the circus. “For instance, what about Roslynn?” I held up a hand. “No. Let me guess. Jimmy interviewed her on this evening’s news. And let me guess some more. She read an excerpt from her latest book.”
“How did you know?” Candy asked. “Roslynn read from The Debutante’s Destiny. She told Jimmy she wanted to support you. That’s why she’s started her Romance Rocks demonstration.”
“With friends like this,” I said. But on second thought, I decided I needed all the friends I could get. “It took courage to stand up to Jimmy and Alistair like Roslynn did.”
Karen nodded. “She gave you lots of compliments, Jess. She said you’re an expert at the art of romance writing.”
Okay, so I might have guffawed. “She actually called it an art form? Alistair must have loved that.”
“He hated it.” Candy sipped her champagne. “But mostly he hated how Roslynn and her romance people were distracting Jimmy. Alistair told him to focus.”
“Let me guess. To focus on destroying me.”
“That’s right.” She smiled brightly. “You’re a good guesser.”
***
“She’s a better pool player,” Kirby said. He and Gus came up from behind and lifted me from my bar stool. Gus reached out his free hand, and Charlie handed him my cue stick from behind the bar.
“I haven’t won a game in ages,” I said as the guys set me down.
“Well then, there’s no time like the present.” Gus challenged me to a game, which I proceeded to lose in record time.
While Camille complained I shouldn’t get another chance, and while Gus racked for Kirby and me, I tuned in to John Lennon singing “You Make Me Dizzy Miss Lizzy.”
The thought of Lizzie Sistina must have inspired me, because my break was actually good. I double-checked. “Did the
three ball just fall?”
Kirby, a former Marine, saluted in answer. And Gus suggested I clear the solids. “Don’t even give Kirby a chance.”
I reassured Kirby he needn’t worry much and took aim at the one. Lo and behold, it disappeared.
That time I double-double checked, as did everyone else.
“Jessie!” Candy clapped in glee. “You haven’t made a shot that good in months.”
Karen shushed her. “Don’t jinx it, Kiddo.”
The crowd fell silent, and John Lennon stopped telling Lizzy how dizzy she was making him, as I took aim at the seven ball.
Talk about feeling dizzy—it fell also.
But apparently the shock of making three shots in a row was too much for me. I missed the six and stepped back for Kirby as Gina Stone wandered by with some pitchers of beer.
“At least this book-banning nonsense has a silver lining,” she told me. “You’re so angry, you got your game back.”
“Maybe,” I said as we watched Kirby pocket the fourteen. “I hope all the nonsense right outside the door isn’t harming your business.”
“Just the opposite.” She started gathering empty mugs scattered on tables near the pool game. “We’re doing a booming business at lunch. They eat a lot.”
“Alistair or Jimmy?”
“Both. Everyone. Those two, Jimmy’s crew, Alistair’s demonstrators. They have to eat somewhere, right?” Gina stopped what she was doing to catch my eye. “Are you okay with this? That we’re feeding the enemy?”
I shrugged. “At least it’s proving positive for someone.”
“How about you?” she asked. “This won’t sound right, but has all this Queen of Smut stuff helped your book sales?”
“Maybe. But I haven’t checked my latest sales figures.”
“Yeah, right.” Camille, the ever-cordial, elbowed her way into the conversation. “I bet you’re keeping a running tally on all the extra books you’re selling. You love this Queen of Smut stuff.”
Her stance suggested she wanted to argue, but luckily Kirby missed the thirteen, and I was able to step away without a word in my defense.
“That teacher who died is the one who deserves attention,” Camille kept at it while I surveyed the table. “But Channel 15’s too busy with you to bother with any real news.”
“Be nice, Camie,” her husband Bernie said quietly.
“Get real, Bernard.” She raised her voice even further. “I just heard her bragging to Gina. Jessie loves all this attention.”
“Jessie hates all this attention,” Kirby argued for me as I bent forward to take aim at the four ball.
But I stopped mid-swing and stood up.
I hated all the attention.
***
The rest of that game is a blur. I know I missed the four, I know Kirby won, and I hope I was coherent enough to shake his hand and congratulate him properly.
I vaguely recall stumbling over to Candy and Karen afterwards. “I’m a good guesser,” I told them.
“Say what?” Karen patted my bar stool.
I spoke to Candy. “You said I’m a good guesser. And guess what?”
She gasped. “You’ve guessed something!” She reached over to Karen. “Look at her, Karen. Jessie’s got that look.”
Karen glanced up and flinched. “We’re out of here,” she said, but Candy was already propelling me toward the door.
Chapter 20
“I’ve got to get to Wilson,” I said as we crossed Sullivan Street. I looked at my watch. “I need to borrow a car for the night. I need to get to the lake”
“Are you okay to drive, girlfriend?”
“I had all of three sips of my drink tonight, Karen.”
“Not that. But Kiddo and I know that look. You’re in one of your I’ve-solved-the-murder stupors.”
I told her I hadn’t solved the murder, and I promised to snap out of my stupor. “But I’ve got to see Wilson.”
“You hardly ever stay at his cottage,” Candy reminded me as we entered our building.
“It’s a shack,” I said impatiently. “I need a car, ladies.”
Karen shook her head and apologized. “I need my van first thing in the morning. I’m going to the lumber yard, and then I’m starting on a huge kitchen cabinet project.”
I tried not to cringe when Candy offered her car.
“As long as I have it back by eleven,” she said. “I have the afternoon shift at Tate’s. We’re stocking up for Mrs. Marachini’s next shopping spree. Remember her?”
How could anyone forget the polka-dot bra lady? Candy Poppe is a bra and lingerie saleswoman at our local department store. She’s the best there is. And Mrs. Marachini is her best, albeit most eccentric, customer.
I promised I’d have her car home before eleven and said a little prayer the old clunker would get me out to Lake Lookadoo and back again.
I would have started for the stairwell, but Karen grabbed my arm and held me back. “What!?” I tried pulling away.
She held her grip. “Anytime you’ve acted this weird, a killer was on the loose and after you. You need to be safe, Jess.”
“Please,” Candy added.
I took a deep breath. “If my guess is correct, the killer is done killing. The last thing he wants is to see me dead.”
“Now you’re really scaring me.” Candy was struggling to pull her car key off her key chain. I took the stupid thing from her and separated the keys.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” I kept the car key and handed her the remaining. “In the meantime you guys need to stay safe also. Keep your doors and windows locked.” I looked back and forth between them. “And call Lieutenant Densmore if anything unusual happens. Promise me?”
Karen said I was scaring her, too, and I ran upstairs to get my cat.
***
“Road trip!” I called out. I rushed over to the closet, pulled down the cat carrier, and got Snowflake inside before she could even think of protesting.
“Don’t worry,” I told her when she thought of protesting. “We’ll be with Wilson shortly.”
I took the yowl as a sign of approval and turned in circles as I tried to remember what clothes and other necessities I had at the shack. Not nearly as much stuff as Wilson kept at my place. I threw a pair of clean underwear in my purse, grabbed my laptop, and headed for the door.
Luckily, I also remembered my cell phone. I called Wilson as soon as I had Candy’s car up and running.
“Are you home?” I said by way of greeting. “Snowflake and I are on our way.”
“Out here? Now? Are you feeling well?”
“I feel sick actually.” I turned out of the parking lot and made it through a yellow light at the corner. “But yes, I’m coming over. Meanwhile you need to assign some extra patrols to Sullivan and Vine. I doubt it’s an issue, but I want my friends to be safe.”
Dead silence.
“Wake up, Wilson!” I said, and Snowflake meowed from her cat carrier. “Will you, or will you not, put an extra patrol on my building tonight?”
“I have news for you, Darlin.’ I’ve had extra patrols on your building since Saturday.”
I had to stop for a red light. “You have?”
“The body was found on your car, Jessie. Until I know why, I’m taking precautions.”
I stared at the light and blinked back tears. “I know why.”
“Why what?”
“Why Miriam Jilton was left on my car.” I took a deep breath and said it. “This was all about me.”
Chapter 21
Wilson stood in his driveway, two glasses of champagne in hand, when I pulled up.
“You need this,” he said. He handed me a glass and went to retrieve Snowflake. “What about dinner?” he asked. “Have you eaten?”
“Of course I have.” I tried holding the glass steady as I stumbled along the dirt path to the shack. “It is after midnight.”
“Yeah, but I know you, Jessie. You don’t eat enough. Especially when you’
re thinking about murder.”
I held the door to the porch for him and Snowflake and then collapsed into the yellow Adirondack chair. Meanwhile Wilson got Snowflake settled. Perhaps settled isn’t exactly it. He opened her cat carrier, and she and his cats spent the next few minutes racing gleefully around the porch.
Wilson took the red chair next to me. “What did you have to eat?” he stayed on topic. “Your usual bowl of lettuce?”
“It’s called a salad. But tonight I had chicken tetrazzini.”
He skipped a beat. “Don’t tell me you actually cooked?”
“Rita cooked,” I said, and he almost dropped his glass.
“Rita? As in Sistina?”
“Yes, Rita. She invited me to dinner. Frankie was there, and Lizzie of course. And Peter Harrison, and me. Rita’s a good cook. Not as good as you, but the casserole was delicious.”
“What the hell were you doing at Rita’s? And if you tell me you were asking those kids about the murder, I’ll kill you.”
I reminded Wilson he had already mentioned that option earlier in the day and watched as Bernice, the oldest and fattest of the three cats, stopped the chase and climbed into his lap.
“But there’s absolutely no reason to kill me.” I reached out to pet Bernice. “The high school angle is a moot point now. This wasn’t about Miriam Jilton.”
“Because it was all about you.” Wilson and the cat both seemed skeptical.
“It came to me while I was shooting pool.”
“I assume you lost?”
“To Kirby, thank goodness.”
“You’re happy you lost? To Kirby? Are you feeling well?”
“No! I most decidedly am not feeling well. But I needed to end the stupid pool game so I could get out here to you. You’ve got to hear me out, Wilson.”
“Have I ever not heard you out?’
Good point.
I took a deep breath and looked into the baby blues. It was dark on the porch, but apparently not that dark.
“You’ve been crying,” he said.
“Unusual, huh?”
He kept staring. “What’s going on, Jessie?”
I took another deep breath. “I don’t know who the killer is, but I do know why he killed Ms. Jilton. And I warn you. It is really, really sick.”
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