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“There was only her sister.”
I was desperate. “Isn’t it possible that you were busy on the phone and someone sneaked past you?”
“Yes, it is possible, but then we’d have that person on the videotape. There was no one.”
“Can you think of anything unusual that happened that morning? Something that just doesn’t seem to make sense?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Blue.”
“Please help me.”
He picked up the phone. “I’m calling the police.”
I fled.
By the following morning, Keith knew all about my visit and he was furious. He was screaming so loudly that I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Are you crazy?”
“What do you expect me to do? Sit here until they slap the cuffs on me?”
“I don’t care what you do. Take up knitting, go to the gym and hit a punching bag. Whatever. But you stay away from everyone and everything connected with this case.”
“Can’t I at least talk to Craig about the Moms Mabley book? You said yourself that he didn’t do it.”
“Jackie, if you can’t follow my orders, I will walk off this case and not look back. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
So over the next few days, I spent my time deep cleaning my apartment, holding Mama’s hand, and visiting museums and art galleries. My home voicemail system was chock-full of calls from concerned and curious authors, agents, editors, and members of the Black Pack, but I was too depressed to answer their greetings.
Paul usually stopped by after work and stayed until it was time for me to go to bed. I felt guilty that in spite of everything Paul did for me, all of his loving kindness and attempts to make me laugh, I still felt nothing but friendship for him. It occurred to me that I should tell him so and not waste any more of his time (Rosa with the Crooked Nose was getting tired of his neglect and was threatening to kick him to the curb), but my need for someone besides Mama and Elvira to talk to was far too great for me to give him the honesty and consideration he so richly deserved.
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It was Paul’s idea to have a Black Pack party to lift my spirits. I was lying facedown on my bed as he massaged my back when he brought up the idea.
“Are you crazy? They won’t show up because if there is a cameraman outside B. Smith’s snapping pictures, they’ll catch hell at work,” I muttered lazily.
Paul’s strong fingers worked my tightened muscles. “I don’t care about what happens to them.”
“I can’t face anybody right now.”
“Maybe you could learn something that will help your case. Someone might have overheard vital information that they don’t even realize is important.”
That made sense to me. “All right, but I still say they won’t show up.”
Paul stood and rubbed his hands together cheerfully. He’d finally succeeded in giving me hope. “I will get the Black Pack to come.”
“How?”
Paul grinned. “By providing guaranteed secrecy, plus free food and booze for them, their spouses, and significant others. We’ll have a good time.”
Free food? I suddenly knew what he was thinking. “Don’t drag poor Richard into this. He is trying to make a go of his new restaurant and feeding all these folks might put a dent in his budget. It isn’t fair to your brother.”
He knelt on my hardwood bedroom floor and started massaging my bare feet. “Don’t worry about Richard. We’ll work it out between us.”
Paul was going to pay for the party out of his own pocket. I felt it in my gut and I felt a sudden rush of sadness for him. Why couldn’t I love this wonderful man?
