"Oh." He sounded like the starch had been taken out of his argument. "I thought you were toasting dumping me."
"Honestly, Jonathan, does that sound like something I would do?" I thumped into my chair. Wasn't it enough that the sheriff was considering me a person of interest? Did Jonathan have to chip in and assassinate every other aspect of my character?
"I don't know, Thea. I just don't know you any more."
There was no avoiding a discussion. I was going to have to toss another ball in the air and hope gravity didn't win. Not being argumentative would help. I took a deep breath and softened my tone.
"Why don't we have dinner someplace quiet and talk? Tomorrow, maybe?"
"Can't tomorrow. Wednesday will work."
I looked ceiling-ward for some kind of divine deliverance from Mr. Control-freak. None arrived. I gave up. "Fine. Where?"
"Bernard's in Snohomish. You like that place and it's decent. I'll pick you up at seven."
"Okay. See you then, and thank you for Mr. Green's name."
"Not a problem… and Thea?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
I grappled for a response that was true but not cruel. "I know you do." I immediately knew I'd missed the "not cruel" part.
Less than a minute later, as I rested my face in my hands and contemplated this character flaw, the phone rang. Now what did he want? On the third ring I picked up and sighed a "hello."
"Well, don't you sound down in the dumps." The brisk voice belonged to Andrea Anderson, my best friend since fifth grade.
Relief almost made me laugh. "I'm so glad you called."
"So," she said, slowly, as if testing the waters. "Rumors are flying. What's going on, and why haven't you called me?"
"About what?" So many things had gone on since I spoke with her a week ago I wasn't sure what she meant.
"Don't be cagey with me, now. Something's going on with Jonathan. Fess up. Am I the last to know he's been buying expensive jewelry?"
"Oh, that." I took a deep breath. "We went out to dinner with his parents Saturday night, he proposed, I failed to give him an answer, left and went home on my own."
"That's it? That's the condensed version. I want all the dirt."
"I don't know where to start. There's been so much going on."
"Jump in anywhere," she urged. "Obviously the rumor mill is woefully outdated."
So I did, and gave her a messy, disjointed tale of my recent misadventures, from Paul showing up at McMurphy's instead of Juliet, to finding Valerie's body, Paul dealing with Greg and again with Randy, and my fun time at the sheriff's office.
"Good golly, Miss Molly," she commented when I took a breath. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You're sure? You're just saying that, I know you are. Be honest with me. Have you been to the doctor? How about the police? Tell me you've talked to the police about Greg, please. And a lawyer? I know some good ones."
Andrea is an attorney, and like Jonathan specializes in corporate law. I wish she'd find a guy, get married and have some kids so she'd quit practicing her mothering on me.
"Yes, yes, yes, and I've got a name."
"Who?"
"Jacob Green. Jonathan told me he was good."
"Jeez, Thea, I'd be traumatized into the next decade."
"I'm okay. Believe me, and stop worrying. Aunt Vi and Uncle Henry are fussing enough for everybody."
"Well, I can put a lid on the fussing, but I'm still worried. Is there anything I can do?"
"You're doing it."
"I can do more -"
"Andrea!"
"Okay, okay. You know, I can't believe the little witch got whacked. I wonder who she pushed over the sanity edge." Without waiting for my comment she made a quantum jump to her favorite recreational topic: men. "Who's this 'Paul' you keep referring to? Just how sexy is he?"
"Paul?" I said, slightly unnerved. "I mentioned him twice."
"Sorry to inform you, but I stopped counting at six."
"No," I attempted to argue with her.
"Yes," she interjected. "He sounds intriguing. Is he the one who turned your head from Jonathan?"
I closed my eyes in resignation and exhaled, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. This conversation needed a whole lot more time than the five minutes I could give it before I'd be late for dinner at my aunt and uncle's.
"I have an awful lot to tell you, Andrea, but I have to get going or Aunt Vi will be worrying about me again. Can we have dinner this week?"
"How about tomorrow. No, wait. Wednesday?"
"Can't. I'm having dinner with Jonathan."
"Oh, so you haven't actually broken up with him? Thea, Thea, Thea -"
"I've postponed the confrontation because of everything else that's going on." I could smell a lecture. I wasn't up to it.
"In all fairness, you shouldn't get involved -"
"I'm not getting 'involved' with anyone. Period. I'm just saying, with everything that's going on, dealing with Jonathan is too much. Besides, I know exactly how it's going to go. He'll bring out that ring again, tell me to just try it on, tell me we can have a long engagement so I don't feel pressured, then poof, we'll be married and I'll wonder how it happened." I wadded my hair up in my fist, released it, combed it back into place with my fingers, and took a deep breath.
"Be strong, Thea. You know what you want. Don't listen to his arguments or he'll have you convinced he's the best deal in town and he's doing you a huge favor."
"Don't I know. He could give telemarketers lessons." I leaned back in my chair and put my feet on my desk.
"All you've got to do is look at his hairline and imagine what he'll look like when that blond hair gets thinner and disappears. Should keep you from listening to a word he says."
A giggle escaped as a snort. I grinned. "That's a trick I hadn't thought of."
"Let's meet for dinner on Thursday then," she said. "And if he's talked you into something you don't want we'll have time to fix it."
I laughed and agreed. Why hadn't I talked to Andrea earlier?
"Ordinarily, Thea, I'd think it would be wonderful to have some guy be so attentive, but Jonathan? I don't know. He's so obsessive about you. Gives me the creeps. I'm sorry I introduced you to him."
"I don't think it's that bad." She tended to carry the over-protective thing a bit far.
"It is from where I sit. I'll bet I'm not the only one who thinks so, either. You're doing the right thing, and remember I'm here for you."
"Yes, Mother."
We made plans to meet at The Cheesecake Factory at the mall in Bellevue, two blocks from her office. We'd get dinner and retail therapy within steps of each other. I was feeling better already.
Right.
I should have known.
The doorbell rang as I put my last client file away. I wasn't expecting anyone, but then I had more than my usual share of unexpected visitors lately. I slid the metal drawer shut and went to the front door.
"Who is it?"
An unfamiliar male voice responded. "Mr. Frederick Parsons to see Miss Campbell."
Crap.
I sprinted into the living room and looked out my front window. A large black Mercedes sat idling at the curb.
Tell him you're not here. Tell him you're the maid, or the neighbor watering the house plants.
No. He'll come back. He has to know by now that Blackie is innocent. He can't know I'm a person of interest. Not yet. He won't hurt me. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and stuck it in my pocket – just in case. With my pulse rate pushing optimal work-out level, I opened the door and looked up at a Frankenstein-sized man in a black uniform and dark glasses. An extra twinge from some recess of my mind added to my tension. I pushed it down.
"Miss Thea Campbell?" The big guy did not smile.
"Yes?" I tried to.
"Mr. Frederick Parsons would like a word with you."
"Of course."
He turned toward the car and, as though through some pre-arranged signal, its back door opened. Out stepped a gray-haired man impeccably dressed in a well cut, steel gray suit. He moved with the square-shouldered confidence you expect of someone who is used to having people snap-to at his command.