Silence of the Hams

room. Without being told to.'

“That's scary!' Shelley said. 'Maybe you're about to enter a new era. Tell me what Mel said.”

Jane took a deep breath, reviewed it in her head for a second, and launched into a long monologue full of 'he saids' and 'I saids.' Shelley listened quietly, occasionally saying, 'Wait. Wait. Let me think.' Then, 'Okay, go ahead.”

When Jane was done, Shelley said, 'What a pair they were! Using and either abusing or planning to abuse the client privilege. Do you think they'd already been using the material they had to blackmail people?”

Jane thought for a minute. 'You know, if I had to guess, I'd say not. I think if Stonecipher had been using it, he'd have gotten more cooperation in ramming through his silly rules. He's lost on practically all his causes, hasn't he?'

“I think so. But that's assuming he'd blackmail people for moral support rather than plain old cash. And he appeared to have lots and lots of money. Those house renovations alone must have run well over $100,000 apart from the decorating. And you saw those Oriental rugs in the living room. I don't think they came from Sears. The real things cost the earth.'

“Even the fake ones are out of my range. Can't you just picture Weyrich and Stonecipher staying late at the office, poring over their nasty little private file cabinet?' Jane shuddered. 'That's really creepy.'

“So Mel gave the Dohertys as an example of people who were at the deli opening, had dealt with Stonecipher, and didn't have a file. Did he mention anyone else?'

“No. I don't think he was suggesting they were high on his list of suspects, though. Just giving an example that I'd recognize because we were the ones who blabbed to him about them.'

“I'd sure like to see his short list,' Shelley said.

“So would I, but if you think I'm going to ask—'

“God, no! He'd be down on us like a ton of bricks,' Shelley agreed.

“Stay here a minute,' Jane said and went inside.

She came back out with the little blue lozenge of cardstock from the file folder. 'Does that look familiar to you?”

Shelley stuck out her hand and Jane put the paper on her palm. 'I don't think so,' Shelley replied. 'Why?'

“Because it rings a terribly faint bell in the back of my mind.'

“Maybe you've had file folders like it.”

“Maybe. It could be that I've vacuumed up bits like this. But I don't think so.'

“Close your eyes and try to picture where you've seen it,' Shelley advised.

“I've tried that. I can't bring it any farther forward in my mind.'

“Maybe that time you were in Stonecipher's office—?' Shelley handed the bit of paper back and Jane put it in her jeans pocket.

“No, if I really have seen such a thing before, it's been much more recent. But I don't think it was blue. If I could get a fix on the color, I might be able — oh, well. Never mind. I'm probably mixing it up in my head with something else entirely.'

“Poor Mel. He's really up a creek, isn't he?' Shelley said. 'The dog that didn't bark. I like that phrase. It's from a Sherlock Holmes story, isn't it?'

“I wonder how many people she had lined up,' Jane said. 'If she wanted to see me at four, that probably means she had at least the two people who belonged to the red and yellow file before me. And who knows how many others?'

“What a cold-blooded bitch,' Shelley said.

“Yes, but in a way I feel sorry for her. Not just because she's dead, but because of what Patsy Mallett said about the argument she overheard. Emma wasn't a kid anymore. She must have been — what? — thirty-five or so? She might have been hanging in there being the other woman for a large part of her adult life. And then, when Rhonda said she was divorcing Stonecipher, Emma thought she was going to get the big payoff. Instead, he apparently told her he had no intention of marrying her. Think of the blow to her ego that must have been.'

“Not only her ego, but her finances,' Shelley added.

“Yes. I hadn't thought about it that way, but she'd been counting on being his wife some day and having financial security and she had it yanked out from under her. I can almost see why she'd act so quickly and probably angrily to cash in on that file drawer full of dirty little secrets.'

“I don't suppose there was any kind of index in the file drawer?'

“I doubt it,' Jane said. 'And I imagine if there had been, Mel would have mentioned it. How's he going to tell what's missing when he has no way of knowing what was there?'

“Well, he has his list of people who admitted having consulted Stonecipher. That's a start.'

“But doesn't prove anything. Most people don't go to see a lawyer and immediately pour out all their most heartfelt secrets and/or criminal activities,' Jane said.

“Still, you don't go to a lawyer unless you have a problem of some kind. And most problems are, to some degree or another, your own fault. Even if it's just failing to have done something you should have.'

“Mom?' a distant voice bellowed.

“Out in back,' Jane bellowed back.

Mike came out the garage door. 'You forgot orange juice.'

“No, I didn't. I got it. Look in the fridge.'

“I did. And on the counters and even in the car. It's on the receipt, but it didn't get home,' Mike said.

“Phooey! The sacker must have left it out. And I guess you can't live without it?'

“I'll drive you to the store, Jane,' Shelley offered. 'I need to pick something up anyway.'

“So much for not going shopping for another two weeks,' Jane complained. 'I didn't even make it for two hours.”

She went in and got her purse and they took off. Jane's gallon of orange juice was still sitting at the checkout she'd gone through, waiting for her to come back. The clerk didn't even want to see her receipt. Shelley went off to find the cream cheese she needed for a recipe she was trying out and Jane waited in front of the store.

And waited.

She finally got impatient and went back into the store to find Shelley. Reaching the dairy case, she discovered Shelley in conversation with LeAnne Doherty. Shelley gave Jane an I wondered-when-you'd-get-here look.

“Hi, Jane. Sorry I wasn't in the shop yesterday when you stopped by,' LeAnne said. LeAnne was a plump, pretty woman in her thirties with naturally curly reddish hair and freckles. She still had on her church clothes and a grocery cart full of mostly house brands. A careful shopper, Jane thought.

“Oh, we just wanted to say hi, nothing important,' Jane said.

“You've heard about Emma Weyrich, I guess,' LeAnne said, lowering her voice.

“We have,' Shelley said neutrally. 'Awful, isn't it?'

“Are you still dating that detective, Jane?' LeAnne asked.

“Uh-huh,' Jane said warily.

“I guess he tells you all about his cases.”

“Afraid not,' Jane said.

“Is he investigating Emma's death?' Le- Anne asked, undeterred.

Jane saw no reason for concealment. 'Yes, he is.'

“How was she killed? This morning's paper j ust said a blow to the head.”

“Some kind of barbell thing, I think,' Jane replied. That, too, would soon be public information if it wasn't already.

“I guess they went over her apartment pretty carefully,' LeAnne said. 'I wonder if they found anything — helpful.”

Jane shrugged. 'I have no idea. I know they search really thoroughly.'

“So you don't know what they found?”

“Me? No. Mel wouldn't even consider shar? ing inside information with me,' Jane lied. I wish he were here, Jane thought. He'd be impressed. And very interested in LeAnne's questions.