Miss Scarlet. Lead Pipe. Lounge.

Originally written January 1, 2006

“Probably that one.” Which would explain his response when I handed him the replica. “I thought it was supposed to…” he said. The end of the sentence was not going to be “be bigger,” as he’d invented at the time. He thought it was supposed to vibrate, as the real one had been in my purse only moments before. As the rose quartz one had probably been when I first sat down with him.

“Yeah. And another one around at the Crypt,” I conjectured.

“The woman who knocked you out later.”

“Uh huh. That’s the easy part. Now we get to figure out why Richard was holding out on me.”

“And who’s Pinky.”

“And how he accidentally sent the wrong charm back to me. Or why he decided to give one back at all. Even if he was trying to give back the fake one, it’s not like he had to.”

“True dat.” I heard nails scraping down a distant chalkboard when he said that, but I let it go. “Then he’s not the one collecting them.”

“Guess not, but he knows there’s something going on, and he’s still been around a bunch of times Moshe’s been under. Just possibly not in the tunnels with Trudy. And not at the Crypt.”

“Do you know that for sure? Just cuz he said he’d be leaving for U. of I. that night doesn’t mean he did.”

I felt a little ill at the idea of him being the one who’d molested me outside the restroom at the club as I waited for Jeanine. Recalling the moment now, the feel of him—the vibe of him—was definitely not present at the time. “Whether he was at the club or not, I’m not convinced it was just him.” I explained why.

“You’re sure you’re not just saying that cuz you want the person who felt you up to be a beautiful woman?”

“Was Miss Scarlet with the lead pipe in the lounge beautiful?” I knew I was ripping off Trudy's witticism. But what the heck? She steals mine all the time, usually not the politically correct ones.

“Hard to tell from far away, Professor Plum.”

“Anyway, I wouldn’t be horrified if it were a beautiful man, either. But Richard? That’s just kind of icky. He's like my brother. And you know it would be too much of a coincidence if it weren’t that woman.”

“Unless they’re working together.” We both thought about that for a moment. “Marya.”

“What?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“What?”

“I just have to suggest this.”

“What?”

“Does Jeanine have a pink wig?”

“What the fuck?”

“I’m serious. She wasn’t outside when you got hit. No one who knows her saw her up close. Only Moshe. And outside the ladies’ room? She could have manipulated you into making him kill. Marya, she was interested in the charm all night! She got you to wear it. And it was vibrating whenever she came closer to you!” He was building himself into a frenzy with his epiphany, coming close to shouting. “And at the restaurant. At lunch. She could have seen us with it when we were talking about it. Maybe that’s why she wanted to come out with us.”

My stomach churned. My head fell back onto the couch cushion behind me. I stared at the ceiling. It sounded so cliché, just barely a step above Trudy’s multiple personality disorder theory about Moshe. But too many pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit together to deny that it was a possibility. “It can’t be her.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe wishful thinking. I don’t know. Where would she have gotten a charm?”

“Where’d Richard get his?”

“Not a clue. She’s not an old soul, though.”

The events of this day to be continued...