“But I had nothing to do with any of it, except that I live here. It's not as if I pried the information out of Harwell — God knows I didn't want to hear about her and Steve — or went out searching for somebody to wreck my kitchen!"
“Mel's not going to see it that way," Shelley warned. "Especially if you're backing out on the romantic weekend."
“I don't know that I am yet. I still haven't had a chance to talk to Mike. I just don't want him to feel that I'm abandoning him at a bad time in his life. For him, this must be like losing his father all over again. First Steve died, and now even Mike's memory of him has to be drastically revised. That's tough, especially when you're still so young. Shelley, I told him about Steve leaving us the night he died. I didn't want him to ever know, but I heard myself telling him and I was appalled."
“Jane, he's a tough kid. He'll survive it and I've always thought you should have told him. He was bound to find out sooner or later. Better that it came from you. Where are your kids anyway?"
“As soon as Katie and Todd got home from school, Mike took my side about them not going out in the yard. Of course, he's just afraid they'll somehow find out what he learned. He took Todd to a movie, after getting into a screaming match with Katie. She's in the back bedroom watching out the window — and no doubt plotting revenge on Mike and me both. I could have used her help cleaning up the kitchen. It was an unholy mess, but I didn't want to have one more thing to fight about. With anybody.”
Both women fell silent for a while, watching the activities outside and thinking.
In the kitchen, the police officer questioned a hippy-dippy individual who was expounding on why she never wore a watch and couldn't possibly tell him what time anybody did anything because time was an artificial concept that had caused most of the misery in the world and ought to be outlawed so that the fascist pigs couldn't try to trip people up by asking about it. To his credit, the officer just went on to the next question without any comment.
“Oh, Jane — what a lot you have to sort out," Shelley said quietly.
Jane sighed. "Oh, I don't know. The police have to sort out Jake's murder, and Mike has to sort himself out. All I have to do is stand by and be available if needed. In both cases.”
Shelley nodded. "But aren't you curious? About Jake?"
“Madly!" Jane said, relieved to be talking about the one aspect of the hectic afternoon that least involved her. "I'm still trying to figure out whether the blackmailer I overheard was Jake. I'm inclined to think so, but I know that's partly because Maisie suggested it was the kind of nasty thing he'd do, and partly because he's dead and it would be a good motive. But I really had no good reason tothink so. It might not have even been a man speaking. Maybe a woman with a low voice."
“Like Lynette Harwell?" Shelley suggested.
“That crossed my mind," Jane admitted. "But I know that's because I want to think badly of her. I mean, I already do, but I'd like to pile on the sins, so to speak. I don't honestly believe it could have been her voice, however."
“Just who was at this lunch?"
“Jake, Lynette Harwell, that weirdo director, George Abington, Mike, and me. Angela and somebody else I didn't recognize were at the far end of the table, but they didn't have much of anything to say."
“How did everybody act toward each other?" Shelley asked.
“Absolutely bland for the most part. As if they'd never met or had a cross word. Well, except for George Abington and Lynette Harwell. They sniped at each other, but it had a quality of old stuff that neither of them really had their heart in. Cavagnari was unaware of anybody except as an audience to listen to a confusing story about a set that blew up or blew down or something. I think it was in Prague, which is very possibly the most boring place on earth to hear about."
“What about Jake? How did he act?"
“No particular way. He didn't say much. He pretended to politely listen to Cavagnari. Ate all his lunch as if he had nothing especially important on his mind."
“You didn't sense that he felt he was in danger?"
“No. Not at all. But then, I didn't know the man. I wouldn't have any idea what's normal behavior for him.”
They watched as Mel crossed the backyard toward the house. He came into the living room a minute later with the police secretary in tow. "Mrs. Jeffry, would you please repeat for the record what you heard earlier today? The conversation you overheard?”
Very formal, aren't we? Jane thought, and responded in kind. "Of course, Detective Van Dyne. I'm sorry, but I don't remember the exact words, only the gist. Two people were speaking—"
“Are you sure of that?”
Jane thought for a minute. "I think so. At least the context of the conversation suggested that there were only two. The first one said something about one of the actresses getting sick and that the other one knew what he wanted done. There was something about talking to the director and the second one said he and the director didn't get along and he wouldn't help. Then the first one said something about remembering some porn flicks and how they didn't give prestigious awards to people who had been in them."
“And…?" Mel prodded.
“And nothing. That was it."
“Nothing more specific than that?"
“The blackmailer mentioned the names of some movies, but I don't remember exactly what they were. One was Something Bambi or Bambi Something. The other one had something to do with college. Classroom Capers or something like that.”
Mel thought for a moment and the secretary sat with her pencil poised like an automaton with her batteries turned off.
“You keep saying 'he,' " Mel said. "Were the speakers both men?"
“I'm not sure. I thought they were, but I couldn't be positive. They were whispering."
“And you could hear them?"
“Whispering loudly," Jane said, feeling foolish. It was his job to pick holes in her story, but he didn't have to be so good at it. She was sure he was picturing her in the undignified position of having her ear glued to the back of the set, which was true.
“Okay. What about the way they spoke. I mean the grammar. Were they both educated sounding? Could you discern any accent? Any speech impediment?”
Jane considered carefully. "No, there was nothing remarkable in any way. Normal language. No glaring errors. No lisp or anything like that.”
He asked a few more questions about the time of day she heard them, the duration of the conversation, and her proximity to the speakers, then dismissed the secretary. He walked over and stared out the back window for a minute. "These are the oddest people. Look at them. Everybody looks busy, but you can't tell exactly what any of them are doing. And they just keep doing it. Murder doesn't seem to faze them. I like for people to be taken aback by death. At least for a little while.”
Mel seldom spoke seriously about his job and Jane was surprised. She and Shelley waited for him to go on, but instead he turned back to them and smiled. "You got your kitchen cleaned up, didn't you?"
“Not really," Jane admitted. "I just shoved most of the mess out of sight. I'll sort it out later and get things back to their proper places. Anybody who tries to use the guest bathroom is in for a horrible shock."
“Anything missing?" Mel asked.
“Who could tell? I doubt it. Mel, you haven't told us… how was Jake killed?"
“Stabbed. And the knife was jammed out of sight under the metal railing to the trailer. Blade outward. That's how the Kowalski kid cut his hand — if he's telling the truth."
“Mel, you don't suspect him!" Jane exclaimed. "He's a bone-deep nice kid."
“You know him? Well?"
“Well enough. I only met him once, but he was nice to my cats. Stop giving me that look! I know it sounds stupid, but a person who is gentle and considerate to animals can't be a murderer."