A Sensitive Kind of Murder (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner

to do this. For you. And for Steve.”
    Could he, though? Our group was certainly mesmerized. Mike Russo’s eyes were so round they looked like they’d fall from his head like loose marbles. And I was having trouble controlling the urge to mention the key that was taken from me at the potluck. Something about Garrett’s presence made me want to confess. Was the murderer also controlling the urge to confess?
    “We must consider the possibility that the murder has to do with us, with the Heartlink group. If one of you did it, you must come forward now. I can tell you that you won’t be able to live with yourself afterward unless you do.”
    And then someone did step forward: Jerry Urban, Garrett’s lover. There was no smile on his round, genial face. For a moment I thought he had stepped forward to say he was the murderer; Garrett’s words had been that powerful. But then I realized that Jerry was just moving closer to Garrett in order to protect him, physically and emotionally.
    “Well?” Garrett finished, eyeing us each in turn.
    “Hey!” yapped Van Eisner. “Are you accusing one of us? What is with you? I don’t get it. We’re a support group. We don’t accuse each other. We don’t spread each other’s secrets.” He advanced on Garrett, his fist raised. As he passed me, I could smell the wine seeping from his pores. “For God’s sake, what is your problem?”
    Van’s fist was at least a yard from Garrett’s actual body, but that was too close for Jerry Urban.
    Jerry stepped between the two men.
    “Stop that!” Jerry ordered. I had never heard such seriousness in his tone before. “You have no right to speak to Garrett that way.”
    Van dropped his fist. “Listen,” he tried. “This is all screwed up. We’re supposed to help each other—”
    Jerry went on as if Van hadn’t spoken.
    “And don’t you ever threaten Garrett again. I would protect Garrett with my life. You want to fight? Your fight is with me.”
    A silence followed Jerry’s words.
    I knew that Jerry was speaking with absolute sincerity—I felt the same about Wayne as he did about Garrett. And then the hair on my arms stood up. Could there have been a reason to kill Steve Summers that had to do with protecting Garrett? One that Garrett wasn’t even aware of? One that Jerry had acted upon?
    I had to break the silence before I jumped out of my skin and into the faux fireplace.
    “Has anyone here talked to the police about the content of the group meetings?” I asked.
    “Oh, you mean ‘our worst secrets’?” Isaac responded with a smirk on his elderly, alcohol-weathered face.
    I wasn’t sure whether everyone in the room knew what he was talking about, but I did, and I wasn’t letting his crack go by.
    “What did you say to them?” I demanded.
    Isaac laughed, baring discolored teeth, but he answered willingly enough.
    “I just played a little with Captain Wooster,” he told us. “What a horse’s ass that man is. I told the captain he ought to ask everyone their worst secrets.”
    “Did you tell him the secrets yourself?” I prodded.
    “Just a few harmless ones,” he answered. “Hey, what the hell?”
    Van Eisner paled, and Ted Kimmochi closed his eyes. Was he praying? Or meditating?
    “What?” Janet McKinnon-Kimmochi demanded impatiently. “What are you talking about?”
    Isaac didn’t answer her. He just went on, “I told about Wayne’s feeling guilty when his boss died. No crime in that. It’s a matter of public record.” I wanted to reach out and squeeze Isaac’s stringy neck, but I didn’t. “I told about Ted’s…meditations.” Isaac winked at Ted. Ted looked behind himself, as if for escape. ‘Thinking about chocolate, ha, ha. And I told him about Van’s amazing success with women—”
    “Anything else about me?” Van whispered.
    Isaac shook his head. “You know me, Mr. Sensitivity.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t say anything that would really get someone in trouble.” He eyed Carl Russo