A Cry for Self-Help (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner

moving.
    “And he’s not stupid either,” she went on. “He wouldn’t shake his fist at the guy and then push him over. The person who did it would act like they liked him first.” She screwed up her narrow face in a scowl. “If Skyler was even pushed. I don’t know why the cops are on everyone’s case—”
    “What do you—” Wayne began.
    I sent him a consoling look as Emma cut him off. He missed it as he sat down in the swinging chair across from her.
    “If they’re gonna hassle anyone, it oughta be Yvonne O’Reilley. I’ll bet she knows—well, knew—Sam Skyler a lot better than she’s letting on. And Ona, I mean, all she can talk about is how much she hated the guy. And then there’s his space-cadet girlfriend.” I found myself nodding at the description, then stopped as I caught Wayne’s look. “You ask me, she’s more interested in Skyler Junior than she was in Skyler Senior.
    “Anyway,” she summed up, popping out of the chair like a jack-in-the-box. “This whole thing is getting too intense. I mean, Campbell is put right off his music. He’s a wonderful musician you know, traditional stuff. Celtic. And I can’t even write, I’m so uptight. It’s all too weird. I mean, how can I get into Connie the Condom’s mind when all this bullshit is exploding around us?”
    “Connie the Condom?”
    A smile replaced the scowl on Emma’s narrow face as she walked across the living room to the newest of the bookshelves Wayne and I had built. I caught the mixed scent of cigarette smoke and coffee as she passed.
    “Oh, Connie the Condom’s my children’s book series,” she explained, picking up a novel from Wayne’s futurism section.
    That seemed appropriate. “See, she’s this cute little pink condom, you know, with perfect blond curls and a little rosebud mouth. See, it really points up the ambivalence we have about sexuality, and good and evil. And predestination and all of that stuff. Anyway, she’s, like, this guardian angel and helps kids who are in trouble. I write and illustrate the books. I blew up some of the pages to three feet by five and had a show at the Newmind Gallery. People thought it was really cool. But selling the books is another thing. Since they’re for kids, none of the stores will touch—”
    This time she stopped herself.
    “Anyway, about this Skyler thing.” She put Wayne’s book back on the shelf. Her voice gained weight again. “I don’t like it. And I think it could be really dangerous. Especially to investigate. You gotta figure it’s a lose-lose situation. If the guy wasn’t murdered, what’s the point? If he was, who’s gonna stop the murderer from murdering again? You know what I mean?”
    And then she danced back across the living room to the front door.
    “I’ll bring you a copy of a Connie book if you’d like,” she offered and was out the door in a flash of brass before either of us had time to accept or decline the offer. Or say goodbye for that matter.
    “Was that some kind of warning?” I asked Wayne once I felt able to speak again.
    “I don’t know,” he answered. “Felt more like a random tornado.”
    We sat in silence awhile. The silence felt good. A cocoon filled with non-questions, and non-accusations and non-threats. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the couch. Think of flowers, I advised myself. Think of sunsets—
    “One thing, though,” came Wayne’s quiet voice, sidling into my cocoon. “Emma’s scared. Scared for Campbell. Or for herself. But she’s scared.”
    “Do you think she really believes he did it?” I asked.
    “Maybe she’s just afraid everyone else will,” Wayne suggested. “Campbell did shake his fist at the man minutes before he disappeared.”
    I wasn’t through considering that one when Wayne came up with another.
    “Could be it’s all a ploy to point suspicion at Campbell and away from herself.”
    I sat up straight on the couch, an objection on my lips. Emma was goofy, but I didn’t