A.J. used her nightstand to push herself upright. Sitting was the worst, but she could hardly eat lying flat. Tray settled at last across her knees, she asked, “Were there other birds-er, women?”
Neatly dissecting her ham into bite-sized sections, Elysia murmured vaguely, “Sorry?”
“Dicky. Did he have other lady friends?”
“Oh, he must’ve done. He could hardly afford to live on what I paid him.”
A.J. thought of the Armani coat, the Rolex watch, the Gucci shoes. She suspected her mother was right about Dicky supplementing his income with other victims. Perhaps blackmail was like potato chips-no one could stop at one.
She probed cautiously, “And it didn’t bother you that Dicky had other lady friends?”
Elysia looked up and laughed.
So much for that theory. “But you don’t have any idea of who these women might have been?”
Elysia shook her head. “It’s not the kind of thing he would share with me, you know. Not when he was trying to convince me we should plight our-er-troths.”
Mr. Meagher said grimly, “You must know, Elysia, how very bad this looks.”
Mr. Meagher rarely called Elysia Elysia. Even Elysia seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Her eyes darkened. She said, “Oh yes. A.J.’s inspector will do his best to stitch me up for this, I’ve no doubt.”
“You know, in fairness to Jake, you do make a lovely prime suspect.”
“I know.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“A.J.’s right,” Mr. Meagher put in. “You could well be arrested for this.”
“I’ve no doubt I will be.” Elysia nibbled on ham. “That is good. I am a bloody good cook!”
A.J. struggled to control her exasperation. “Did you tell Jake everything you told us?”
Elysia’s mouth full, she nodded pleasantly.
Of course she had. For all her love of quotations, Elyisa had apparently never heard the one about discretion being the better part of valor. “What did he say?”
“What you would expect from a man with his limited imagination.”
A.J. let that slide. “What about your alibi?”
Elysia raised an elegant shoulder. “He seems to think it’s shaky. I lost my receipt-well, who holds onto the receipt for a single container of milk? Field Marshall Rommel suggested that I might have shot poor Dicky, tossed a tin of evaporated milk in a paper sack, and taken a drive around the valley.”
“But won’t they remember you at the store?”
“One can but hope.”
“It can’t have been crowded on Easter morning. And they’ll have a surveillance camera, surely?”
“No, it wasn’t crowded, but there’s the question of when the murder occurred. The timing is going to be fairly tight. I expect the prosecution will argue that I killed poor Dicky and then went shopping to give myself an alibi.”
“The prosecution.” A.J. looked worriedly at Mr. Meagher. “But surely it won’t go to trial?”
The lawyer’s expression was not reassuring.
“What can we do?”
Elysia said, as though the answer were obvious, “We could always solve the crime ourselves.”
Three
Voices. Arguing.
A.J. opened her eyes. Moonlight illuminated her bedroom. Monster, on the foot of the bed, raised his head, listening. A.J. listened, too. The voices were not raised-in fact they were muffled-but all the same it triggered unpleasant memories of her adolescence. Her parents had enjoyed one of those can’t-live-with-and-can’t-live-without relationships. Although enjoyed was perhaps not the right word. They had certainly loved each other, though, despite everything.
She turned her head on the pillow. The clock on the bedside table read twenty past eleven. A.J. swore under her breath. It took great effort, but she managed to crawl-nearly literally-out of the bed. Hobbling across to the door-it felt like she was about to crack in half-she inched it open.
Light from the front room fanned the hallway. Jake’s voice was quiet but carried. “Listen, lady, the only reason you’re not in jail right now is that you’re A.J.’s mom.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want mere innocence to sway you!”
A.J. huffed an exasperated sigh and, hanging on to the doorframe, pushed the door wider. “What’s going on out there?”
“I am trying to throw this brute out,” Elysia moved into view. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I’m not six years old, Mother. I’m allowed up past ten o’clock-even on school nights.” She stared past Elysia to Jake who stood by the front door as though uncertain of his reception. “I didn’t think you were coming over this evening.”
“Yeah. Well.”
“I can see why you can’t resist this silver-tongued devil.”
“Mother.” Jake’s gaze held her own. A.J. said to her mother, “You don’t need to stay. I’ll be okay now.”
Elysia did not exactly roll her eyes, but the effect was similar. “Far be it from me to play the third wheel, but are you expecting Herr Himmler to help you bathe in the morning, fix your breakfast, and the rest of it?”
A.J. blinked as the reality of her situation sunk in.
Her point made, Elysia said dryly, “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” She and Jake passed each other in the hallway like a cat and dog pledged to an uneasy truce.
Jake reached A.J., who backed carefully into her bedroom. He heeled the door shut and took her-carefully-in his arms and kissed her.
“Are you okay?”
“Better now.” She kissed him back. She was very glad he was there, glad she was in his arms again, despite the strain of knowing that he suspected Elysia.
As though reading her mind, Jake said, “I didn’t expect her here. I guess I should have. What did the doctor say?”
A.J. freed herself gently, making her way to the bed and lowering herself slowly and painfully to the mattress. “No twisting, no turning, no lifting. What you’re seeing is basically my full repertoire.”
“How long are you on bed rest?”
“For as long as it takes. I’m supposed to get a steroid shot on Tuesday if the inflammation is reduced enough.”
Jake hovered over her. It was not in his nature to stand by helplessly, that was obvious.
A.J. bit her lip against a yelp. This was so unbelievably frustrating! When she was lying flat again on her heating pad she said, “It’s not as drastic as it sounds. I used to have a lot of back trouble. The yoga has really helped. Until this morning.” She added, “You’re an awfully long way away over there.”
He sat down gingerly on the side of the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She held out an arm and he came to her, kissing her mouth lightly.
“Poor baby.”
It should have been patronizing, but oddly… it wasn’t.
She nuzzled him back. “How is the investigation going?”
“Not good. And before you say anything else, remember that I cannot discuss this case with you. Not at all.”
“She’s my mother, Jake.”
“You think that escaped my notice? That’s my point.”
“You cannot honestly believe she did this thing.”
“Just cool down for a minute and look at this objectively.”
“I don’t want to look at it objectively!”
He drew back. “And I don’t want to discuss the case with you. So let’s drop it.” He added quietly, “Or I can leave if that’s what you’d prefer.”
Would she prefer that? As angry and worried as A.J. was… she cared for Jake. A lot. Having to choose between her boyfriend and her mother was a dilemma she’d prefer not to face.
“Don’t go,” she said.
Not that they were going to be able to get up to much mischief what with her mother, The Accused, down the hall and A.J. unable to move a muscle without wincing. It took a fair bit of mindful shifting and rearranging before they managed to arrange themselves comfortably.