“Of course, we can,” Miles said.
I knew I was probably going to regret this, but I had to ask. “Frances? The night of the party you said you were with Scott…” I paused, unsure how to continue.
Frances looked at me in teary confusion at first, but then a seed of comprehension took root in her brain. She knew I’d remembered her absence. “Yes,” she said with deliberation, “I was with Scott all night. He and Michael fought, but he couldn’t have killed Michael.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. In a sense Scott’s fate was in my hands. I shut up.
I glanced at Peter. I saw the doubt I felt about this statement reflected in his eyes. I had to admit, it didn’t look good.
We were allowed to visit Bonnie the next day. Ann, Aunt Winnie, and I arrived with flowers in hand. Bonnie lay quietly in her hospital bed, pale and dazed. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. Seeing us, she merely said, “Who did it?”
Not sure what she knew yet in regard to Julian, Aunt Winnie said, “Who did what, honey?”
“Who poisoned me?”
“We don’t know what happened,” Aunt Winnie said gently. “We’re trying to figure that out.”
“Then get out,” Bonnie said.
“What?” asked Aunt Winnie.
“You heard me. Get out. Until I know what happened, you can all just stay the hell away from me.” Bonnie jabbed at the call button on her bed. Moments later a harried-looking nurse appeared. Bonnie said, “I want these people out.”
The nurse turned to us, her face apologetic but firm. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“It’s all right. We understand,” replied Aunt Winnie, setting the flowers on a table. “Bonnie, I’m really sorry. I hope you’re feeling better soon.”
Bonnie turned her face toward the wall.
Bonnie was released from the hospital the next day. Upon her return, she kicked Ann and me out of the house and hired a day nurse. Phone calls were not returned.
Ann returned to her house in Bethesda. I went back to the Jungle Room, which I now shared with Aunt Winnie. Having a giraffe with Graves’ disease stare at you while you slept was bad enough, but having to deal with that along with someone who kicked and hogged the covers—I could not tolerate the prospect of being so miserably crowded.
“I don’t know how Randy puts up with you in bed,” I groused as I attempted to pull back my half of the comforter over me the next night.
“I have had no complaints in that department,” Aunt Winnie replied with a mischievous grin. “Ever.”
“Okay, first of all eww, and second of all … eww. My point is, you are impossible to sleep with.”
“Back at you, babe. You snore.”
“I do not!”
“Then you speak to chain saws in your sleep. Call it what you like.”
I rolled over and stared at the hippo. After a moment, I asked, “Do you think Scott did it?”
“No,” Aunt Winnie said promptly. “Now if it was Frances who was sitting in jail charged with both murder and attempted murder and you asked me that, I might have a shadow of doubt. But not with Scott. Violence just isn’t in that boy’s blood.”
“Who do you think did do it, then?”
“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know. It’s all so confusing. I’m not sure we know the real reason Bonnie was poisoned.”
“Well, considering that Julian was poisoned, too, it would seem that it was because of the planned investment.”
“But you don’t buy that, do you?” she asked.
I thought about it. “No,” I said finally, “I don’t. I think it’s a dodge of sorts. I think we’re meant to think it’s about the money, but I don’t think that’ll turn out to be the real reason.”
“So what is the real reason?”
“I don’t know. I think it all goes back to Michael, though. I just haven’t figured out how yet.”
Aunt Winnie sighed. “Well, let me know when you do. In the meantime, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” With a baleful glance at the ceiling, she added, “Besides, that damn giraffe is giving me the creeps.”
Work the next day was a challenge, to say the least. Dickey returned, but rather than summon us all into the conference room, he just summoned me. Then he asked me to shut the door. I thought he was going to fire me. However, rather than experiencing a cold moment of fear at such a thought, my spirits actually soared. If that’s not a sign that it’s time to quit, then I don’t know what is.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Parker,” Dickey said, gesturing to the empty seats around the table.
I slid into the nearest chair to the door and adopted what I hoped was a politely interested expression.
Dickey did not speak but rather tapped his pen on the table. I couldn’t be sure, but I think he was trying to play the percussion portion of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham! My politely interested expression began to slip. Finally he said, “Well, Ms. Parker, I suppose you know why I’ve called this meeting.”
“Not really, sir.”
Dickey’s eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. “I find that hard to believe, Ms. Parker. Well,
I stared at Dickey with unfeigned astonishment. I felt a bit like Elizabeth when she has it out with Lady Catherine in the side garden.
Dickey continued. “Well, I must say I would have thought that you of all people would be sensitive to the position your family has put our little paper in.”
“My family? What position?”
Dickey snorted at my question. I clearly wasn’t scoring any points with him today. Which, when I really stopped to think about it, was actually a point in my favor. “I am referring to the revolting matter of the arrest of your cousin’s husband. It’s all over the news how he tried to kill his mother-in-law and then went on to kill that other man.” Dickey glared at me as if I were somehow responsible.
“Scott never poisoned anybody,” I replied evenly. “There’s been a terrible mistake.”
“Well, that may be so,” Dickey said with a peevish expression. “But you can appreciate the delicate position it puts our paper in.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t see how it affects anyone but our family.”
Dickey’s mouth pulled into a frown and he slammed his pen onto the table. “If I may say so, that’s a very selfish attitude. We are getting ready to publish the first of our Significant Humans in Town series tomorrow, featuring none other than your great-uncle, and every paper in town is filled with coverage of this scandalous murder investigation featuring your family! I am your boss. I have a right to know about everything that affects this paper!”
I stared at Dickey, dumbfounded. What the hell did he expect me to do about it? “Sir, I don’t think I understand exactly what you want me to do. If it’s a problem, pull the piece.”
“I intend to. However, I will need something to run in its place.” He paused. The shoe dropped. The light dawned. I got it.
“You want me to write a replacement piece?” I asked in astonishment.
“By the end of day, please.”
Sitting there in the conference room, with Dickey in his cheap suit and the faces on his vanity wall smiling down at me, something snapped. I did a quick calculation in my head regarding the contents of my savings account and stood up. “I’ve got a better idea for you,” I said, and then told him.
Dickey sputtered in shock at my rather vulgar suggestion. I, however, felt better than I had in weeks.
“You selfish, horrible girl! How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you quit on me like this! Have you no regard for me or this paper?”
