Ashley Snell had actually been at home,
but she wasn’t. Ashley rented apartment A, the first floor of a small two-story house
on the outskirts of Harrison Falls, not far from Grandville. I banged on the door
extra long just in case. It wasn’t like I was the sleazy media. I convinced myself
that Alex Fine would have wanted this. Officer Smiley, on the other hand, was right
behind me, with his roof lights flashing as I walked away from Ashley’s house.
The fact that I hadn’t done anything remotely wrong had no impact on my aversion to
the law. It was automatic. I was well trained. Anyway, it wasn’t as though I liked
Officer Smiley or anything, I reassured myself. Cute, yes, but too pink cheeked. Too
blond. Too pretending to be nice.
But since he was also too in my face, even if it was to smile in my face, I decided
to use Uncle Mick’s “take the upper hand” method and question the cops before they
could question me.
“What can I do for you, Officer?”
He laughed. “That’s what I was going to say. Hey, do you have a lot of experience
with the police?”
Now what did he mean by that? I didn’t want to look flustered, but a weird sound came
out of my mouth. Real smooth, Bingham.
“Is there a problem?” That came out all right, more or less like a normal person without
criminal connections.
“I just stopped to say hello. It’s a lovely afternoon.”
“You just stopped to say hello? To me?”
“Well, yes.” He leaned forward to sniff a cluster of low-hanging lilacs. My palms
had started to sweat. Should I beflattered? Or worried? Did lilac sniffing symbolize anything? Why did I find that
chipped incisor so adorable?
He said, “So, visiting a friend?”
“No. Yes. Well, not exactly. I’m following up on some research.”
“Anything I can help with?”
My car was so close. My instincts told me to push past him, jump into the Saab, gun
it and be out of sight in two seconds. My rational side told me those actions wouldn’t
look good or end well. Some other part of me noticed the little freckles on the bridge
of his nose and wondered what it might be like to be tackled by him. I gave my head
a shake. “I don’t think so. Thanks.” I made a beeline for my car. I had just settled
in and snapped on my retrofitted seat belt when he tapped on my car window.
I rolled it down.
Apparently he had never stopped smiling. “By the way, who’s your friend?”
“What friend?”
“The friend you were visiting here. The one who’s not at home.”
I reminded myself once again that I had done nothing wrong. And I needed to avoid
telling fibs out of habit and inclination. “Not really a friend, just someone I need
to speak to.”
“Oh sure, but anyway. It’s a small town, I might know them.”
Fine. He might have some useful information. “Her name is Ashley Snell.”
A small shadow clouded his sunny smile. “Right. Wasn’t her…? Oh boy. That was an awful
thing. That poor girl witnessed it.”
Of course, he would know all about Alex and his terrible death. The fiancée too. Harrison
Falls was indeed a small town, and everybody knew everything about everyone’severy action. It wouldn’t have surprised me if my uncles were already aware that I
was having this conversation.
I said, “I have to go now.”
He nodded. “I am glad that Ms. Snell has good friends like you.”
He sounded like he really meant it. For a second I wondered if I was dreaming.
* * *
I SPENT THE rest of the afternoon plowing through my stack of research material on
Agatha Christie, her disappearance and her plays. I worked undisturbed for hours,
if you don’t count Signora Panetone arriving with an afternoon snack of prosciutto,
melon and fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. The cat, of course, came and went like magic.
I quite liked it when it was in a good mood, purring and wanting to snuggle up, but
when that leg-slashing business started again,
but she wasn’t. Ashley rented apartment A, the first floor of a small two-story house
on the outskirts of Harrison Falls, not far from Grandville. I banged on the door
extra long just in case. It wasn’t like I was the sleazy media. I convinced myself
that Alex Fine would have wanted this. Officer Smiley, on the other hand, was right
behind me, with his roof lights flashing as I walked away from Ashley’s house.
The fact that I hadn’t done anything remotely wrong had no impact on my aversion to
the law. It was automatic. I was well trained. Anyway, it wasn’t as though I liked
Officer Smiley or anything, I reassured myself. Cute, yes, but too pink cheeked. Too
blond. Too pretending to be nice.
But since he was also too in my face, even if it was to smile in my face, I decided
to use Uncle Mick’s “take the upper hand” method and question the cops before they
could question me.
“What can I do for you, Officer?”
He laughed. “That’s what I was going to say. Hey, do you have a lot of experience
with the police?”
Now what did he mean by that? I didn’t want to look flustered, but a weird sound came
out of my mouth. Real smooth, Bingham.
“Is there a problem?” That came out all right, more or less like a normal person without
criminal connections.
“I just stopped to say hello. It’s a lovely afternoon.”
“You just stopped to say hello? To me?”
“Well, yes.” He leaned forward to sniff a cluster of low-hanging lilacs. My palms
had started to sweat. Should I beflattered? Or worried? Did lilac sniffing symbolize anything? Why did I find that
chipped incisor so adorable?
He said, “So, visiting a friend?”
“No. Yes. Well, not exactly. I’m following up on some research.”
“Anything I can help with?”
My car was so close. My instincts told me to push past him, jump into the Saab, gun
it and be out of sight in two seconds. My rational side told me those actions wouldn’t
look good or end well. Some other part of me noticed the little freckles on the bridge
of his nose and wondered what it might be like to be tackled by him. I gave my head
a shake. “I don’t think so. Thanks.” I made a beeline for my car. I had just settled
in and snapped on my retrofitted seat belt when he tapped on my car window.
I rolled it down.
Apparently he had never stopped smiling. “By the way, who’s your friend?”
“What friend?”
“The friend you were visiting here. The one who’s not at home.”
I reminded myself once again that I had done nothing wrong. And I needed to avoid
telling fibs out of habit and inclination. “Not really a friend, just someone I need
to speak to.”
“Oh sure, but anyway. It’s a small town, I might know them.”
Fine. He might have some useful information. “Her name is Ashley Snell.”
A small shadow clouded his sunny smile. “Right. Wasn’t her…? Oh boy. That was an awful
thing. That poor girl witnessed it.”
Of course, he would know all about Alex and his terrible death. The fiancée too. Harrison
Falls was indeed a small town, and everybody knew everything about everyone’severy action. It wouldn’t have surprised me if my uncles were already aware that I
was having this conversation.
I said, “I have to go now.”
He nodded. “I am glad that Ms. Snell has good friends like you.”
He sounded like he really meant it. For a second I wondered if I was dreaming.
* * *
I SPENT THE rest of the afternoon plowing through my stack of research material on
Agatha Christie, her disappearance and her plays. I worked undisturbed for hours,
if you don’t count Signora Panetone arriving with an afternoon snack of prosciutto,
melon and fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. The cat, of course, came and went like magic.
I quite liked it when it was in a good mood, purring and wanting to snuggle up, but
when that leg-slashing business started again,
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