me hanging out with Angus and Miguel after the phosphate meeting. She might have seen me leave with them.”
“Why would she know you?”
“Because she was asking me questions about M. David Moody’s murder.”
“Damn it!” he shouted. “How in the hell do you get into these kinds of messes? Are you a suspect?”
This was the first time Philip had raised his voice to me. I decided to ponder the meaning of this later and to defend my honor in the present. “No. I’m not a suspect.” I hoped that was still true.
“Please, Lilly, back up. And this time tell me everything.”
But Philip’s cross-examination was cut off by Bearess’s early-warning barking, and then, sure enough, the doorbell rang.
Before either of us could react, I heard Jimmie open the door and invite someone in. A woman’s voice, general chatter, dog barking, the sound of something breaking, scramble noises, more female voices. Listening so hard it made my head hurt worse, I finished drinking my coffee. Mostly I wanted to go back to bed very badly, wake up on the previous Friday morning, and tell Olivia, “No thank you, I can’t meet Angus.” He might still be dead, but at least I wouldn’t have pissed him off right before he began his journey in a fiery explosion toward his new incarnation.
Instead, what I said was, “Well, speak of the devil. That’s Josey. The detective. I recognize her voice.”
“Hey, Lilly Belle, you might wanta get yourself out here,” Jimmie shouted in my general direction.
“Please, do not give that woman any information. Not until we have thoroughly discussed all of this,” Philip said.
Though I bristled at his directive, I had to admit that not only was Philip a criminal-defense attorney, but also he was not suffering from the lagging half-life of Xanax, and he hadn’t recently fled the scene of a murder for no apparent reason. Also, early in my life I’d developed the habit of not telling law-enforcement officials much more than good morning.
Given all that, I just nodded and we eased out into the kitchen.
“Guess we’re having a neighborhood brunch,” Dolly said, and helped herself once more to my kitchen and handed Josey a cup of coffee.
“I kinda stepped on that dog bowl,” Jimmie said. “I sure hope you didn’t set great store by it.”
“You really shouldn’t use your good china for the dog,” Dolly said, as if she hadn’t been the one who put it on the floor in the first place.
Bearess was busy waggling and licking Josey as if they had been Timmy and Lassie in a former life together.
Stepping over the busted china, I pushed aside my phobias of crowds and junk and aimed myself at a second cup of coffee, only to discover that Dolly had poured the last of it for Josey. As much as I wanted to do so, snatching the cup from a homicide detective’s hands didn’t seem like the smart thing to do.
Not that doing smart things had lately been my specialty.
I put more water on to heat for the third pot of coffee, then sat down. My new theory was that if I sat still long enough, everyone else would settle themselves into some kind of workable pattern. Or leave.
Acting the host, Jimmie introduced himself to Josey, and then introduced Dolly to Josey, and while everybody was drinking my coffee and shaking hands, he said, “I reckon you know them two lovebirds, over there. That Philip and Lilly, they ain’t been out a the bedroom since they jumped in it last night. I had to turn me up that Garrison Keillor guy loud on the radio, give ’em some privacy. Ain’t love grand?”
I was astonished by how quickly Jimmie had just alibied me. Or had he? I double-checked Jimmie’s math, which is painful without a sufficient level of caffeine—Angus, Miguel, and I had left the phosphate meeting a little after seven. Then we’d gone out of our way, at my insistence, to get organic food, sparking the snit between Angus and me. Philip had said his mole told him the explosion was at eight-fifteen
“Why would she know you?”
“Because she was asking me questions about M. David Moody’s murder.”
“Damn it!” he shouted. “How in the hell do you get into these kinds of messes? Are you a suspect?”
This was the first time Philip had raised his voice to me. I decided to ponder the meaning of this later and to defend my honor in the present. “No. I’m not a suspect.” I hoped that was still true.
“Please, Lilly, back up. And this time tell me everything.”
But Philip’s cross-examination was cut off by Bearess’s early-warning barking, and then, sure enough, the doorbell rang.
Before either of us could react, I heard Jimmie open the door and invite someone in. A woman’s voice, general chatter, dog barking, the sound of something breaking, scramble noises, more female voices. Listening so hard it made my head hurt worse, I finished drinking my coffee. Mostly I wanted to go back to bed very badly, wake up on the previous Friday morning, and tell Olivia, “No thank you, I can’t meet Angus.” He might still be dead, but at least I wouldn’t have pissed him off right before he began his journey in a fiery explosion toward his new incarnation.
Instead, what I said was, “Well, speak of the devil. That’s Josey. The detective. I recognize her voice.”
“Hey, Lilly Belle, you might wanta get yourself out here,” Jimmie shouted in my general direction.
“Please, do not give that woman any information. Not until we have thoroughly discussed all of this,” Philip said.
Though I bristled at his directive, I had to admit that not only was Philip a criminal-defense attorney, but also he was not suffering from the lagging half-life of Xanax, and he hadn’t recently fled the scene of a murder for no apparent reason. Also, early in my life I’d developed the habit of not telling law-enforcement officials much more than good morning.
Given all that, I just nodded and we eased out into the kitchen.
“Guess we’re having a neighborhood brunch,” Dolly said, and helped herself once more to my kitchen and handed Josey a cup of coffee.
“I kinda stepped on that dog bowl,” Jimmie said. “I sure hope you didn’t set great store by it.”
“You really shouldn’t use your good china for the dog,” Dolly said, as if she hadn’t been the one who put it on the floor in the first place.
Bearess was busy waggling and licking Josey as if they had been Timmy and Lassie in a former life together.
Stepping over the busted china, I pushed aside my phobias of crowds and junk and aimed myself at a second cup of coffee, only to discover that Dolly had poured the last of it for Josey. As much as I wanted to do so, snatching the cup from a homicide detective’s hands didn’t seem like the smart thing to do.
Not that doing smart things had lately been my specialty.
I put more water on to heat for the third pot of coffee, then sat down. My new theory was that if I sat still long enough, everyone else would settle themselves into some kind of workable pattern. Or leave.
Acting the host, Jimmie introduced himself to Josey, and then introduced Dolly to Josey, and while everybody was drinking my coffee and shaking hands, he said, “I reckon you know them two lovebirds, over there. That Philip and Lilly, they ain’t been out a the bedroom since they jumped in it last night. I had to turn me up that Garrison Keillor guy loud on the radio, give ’em some privacy. Ain’t love grand?”
I was astonished by how quickly Jimmie had just alibied me. Or had he? I double-checked Jimmie’s math, which is painful without a sufficient level of caffeine—Angus, Miguel, and I had left the phosphate meeting a little after seven. Then we’d gone out of our way, at my insistence, to get organic food, sparking the snit between Angus and me. Philip had said his mole told him the explosion was at eight-fifteen
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