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.”
He kept staring. “Keep going.”
“Someone killed her to make me look bad. Pure and simple.”
He raised an eyebrow, and I agreed it sounded outrageous and egotistical.
“But you said it yourself, Wilson. This was all about the million-dollar question. This was all about putting a body—any body—on my car.”
“Why? Just to get Jimmy Beak’s attention?”
“Exactly.” I sipped, or maybe gulped, my drink. “Everyone in town knows he has it in for me. The man’s been dying to accuse me of murder ever since the Stanley Sweetzer fiasco backfired on him.”
“So the killer assumed Jimmy would latch onto this murder and accuse you?” Wilson asked.
“Correct.”
“But Jimmy hasn’t accused you of murder.”
“But who could have predicted that? Jimmy was all set to accuse me until I threatened him with a lawsuit.” I paused. “And why exactly did you suggest that, Captain Rye?”
His face dropped. “To shut him up.”
“Exactly. We put a damper on the murderer’s plan.” I shook my head. “But he’s still getting what he wanted, because of Alistair and his stupid Queen of Smut campaign.” I clicked Wilson’s glass with mine. “Here’s to dumb luck,” I said sarcastically.
Wilson rested his glass on Bernice’s ample tummy. “If the murderer wanted to make you look guilty, he did a terrible job of it, Jessie. It’s been clear all along you weren’t the culprit.”
“But he didn’t care if I actually got arrested. He just wanted to make me look bad.” I curled my lip. “And who better to handle that job than Jimmy Beak?”
Wilson blinked twice. “If you’re right about this, it really is sick.”
“Oh, I’m right alright.” I squinted at the crescent moon hanging over the lake. “Miriam Jilton was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one had any reason to kill her.” I turned to Wilson. “You agree, don’t you?”
He hesitated before answering. And then admitted he and Lieutenant Densmore had ruled out virtually every suspect.
“I rest my case,” I said.
“Not so fast. I’m still trying to figure out the principal.”
“It’s not Dr. Dempsey. I talked to him twice today.”
“Excuse me?”
“Peter Harrison wanted to see his rose garden.”
Wilson spoke to Bernice. “Should I even ask?”
“Of course you should.” I explained how dissatisfied I had been with Dr. Dempsey’s uncooperative behavior earlier in the day. “So Peter and I went to his house this afternoon to try again. Peter knew a secret passageway out of our building and everything.”