Page 30 of Murder Notes

I grab the plastic bag holding the note from the seat and reject that idea. No. It’s not Kane. He’s not the note-writing, scary-tactic kind of guy. He’s about power. Directness. Demand. Proven by his demands directed my way today and even that night. Not to mention the man tried to keep me from leaving town with a rock the size of Texas. And yet, I think, he never called me. It’s odd, but I reasoned it away as his bruised ego. Only now do I consider there was another reason he distanced himself from me. He inferred as much. But what reason? And how does it connect to Junior? And why the hell am I not in on this secret?

Pissed off, I make a decision. I will find Junior and I will have my answers about that night. How I approach that will depend on how long this case keeps me in town and how much opportunity I have to fade into the shadows without really going away this time.

I do a search on my phone and find the Hempstead medical examiner’s office, retrieving Beth’s work cell phone number and then getting her on the line. “Agent Love,” she greets me. “I thought I was going to see you at the press conference this morning.”

“Yeah. Right. No. Can we meet?”

“When?”

“You went to the news conference, which means you’re still in the village. Now.”

“Obviously you still don’t believe in giving people a heads-up,” she states dryly.

“A heads-up gives people time to make up stories that waste my time.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just infer I’d make up stories if you didn’t rush me to this meeting.”

“Can you do it?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that, Beth,” she says in a singsongy voice that, coming from her, is cute. Coming from me, and inclusive of at least one F-word, it would be a different version of cute. The kind of cute that isn’t cute at all. “I trust you, Beth,” she continues. “We’re friends, Beth.”

“Okay,” I say. “All that. Can you . . . ?”

“Yes. I just finished the autopsy, so I’m free. Where?”

“Micki’s Diner. I’ll grab us a table.”

“See you in fifteen,” she says, hanging up and proving it’s only the men in my life who don’t bother with a departing remark.

I slide the note inside my bag, not about to give Junior a chance to clean up again. With it sealed away, I exit the vehicle and make my way to the diner. I reach the door right about the time it’s opening, and Jack Leroy is just exiting. “Lilah Love,” he says, giving me a big hug.

Most people who are not me would love the chance to be hugged by a famous, once-hunky movie star. But the thing is, most people, including my mother, believe that he killed his very famous wife, and therefore I’d rather he hug a street pole with cuffs holding him in place. “How you doing, kiddo?” he asks, thankfully releasing me and giving me a once-over. “As stunning as your mother.”

“You say that every time you see me,” I say to the familiar compliment, which I brush off for one reason and one reason alone: I’m not as stunning as my mother, and I’m okay with that. “How long are you here?”

He laughs. “Why? Do you think I killed that woman?”

I don’t even try to hide the sneer, which I hope I wear as poorly but obviously as I do bright-red lipstick. “That’s not a funny joke,” I comment, “if it’s a joke at all.”

His expression tightens and he looks uncomfortable. “Lighten up, Love.”

“Agent Love,” I correct, and fully enjoying that sourpuss look on his face, I press onward. “Did you know Cynthia?” I ask, calling last night’s murder victim by her first name.

“I did not.”

“And yet you know who I’m talking about?”

“I watched the news conference this morning.”

It’s a reasonable answer but I’m not done making him uncomfortable. “Where were you last night?” I ask, because, you know, once a murderer always a murderer. Which actually isn’t true. Once a murderer is statistically once a murderer, but I don’t like him and choose to think he might just be the anomaly.

“At a movie screening in Southampton.”

“What movie?”

“The new Star Wars release,” he answers and immediately changes the topic. “You can’t seriously think I’m involved in this?”

“I don’t ‘think’ anything. I gather facts. And this alibi you’ve provided can be confirmed and how?”