about it. Cyclists had written furious letters to the editor after Roxanne Terrio’s death. People had waxed eloquent about the dangers of nut allergies after Judge Cardarelle’s demise. Everyone would be buzzing over Rollie’s bizarre end.
“So, you don’t still have any of the jokes?”
“Nah. Tonya is crazy clean. She hates any kind of paper around. She threw them out probably even faster than your dog could eat them. But when I got Rollie Thorsten’s name today and I knew from the news that he was defending in Brugel’s trial, I had to get over there to warn him if he was still alive. I heard there was a suspicious death today, but they didn’t give the name on the news. I knew it would be Rollie Thorsten, because that’s the name I got. I was too late.”
“We didn’t get that name,” Alvin said. “I know because I open the mail and I would have—”
“Hold that thought, Alvin. So, Bunny, why did you come to me?”
“I thought maybe I could talk to you and explain about the jokes and the names and figure out what to do. I called your cell, and someone said you were in court today.”
“That was me,” Alvin said. “She forgot her phone at home.”
“Then that Sgt. Mombourquette gave me the brush off. Do you think he’s good enough for Elaine? She’s really special and she deserves—”
“Bunny!”
“Sorry, so I came here tonight hoping you wouldn’t think I was nuts.”
“Not exactly nuts,” I said.
“Maybe peculiar,” Alvin said.
Bunny pouted. “You made fun of me. The Bunny of Death? Like I’m going to forget that anytime soon?”
“I think I said I was sorry.”
“You didn’t.”
“Well, I am saying it now.” Bunny has always been a sensitive flower. He said nothing, just kept stroking Gussie. Alvin seemed to have joined the conspiracy of silence.
“Fine,” I said. “Alvin? Anything to add?”
“How was I to know that those names were connected to the jokes?”
My voice rose. “You mean to tell me we did get them?”
Bunny said, “What can we do about it?”
“In the end, I think you’ll find that a lot of people probably got those jokes, and they’re not really connected to us.”
Bunny pulled his towel closer. “I sure hope you’re right.”
What do you call an honest lawyer? -A statistical improbability
Saturday morning, I was annoyed bright and early by more knocking at the door. I whipped it open expecting to see Bunny there with yet another nutty bit of information.
A small, crisp woman with expensive blonde highlights gripped my hand and shook it. I was so startled that I hardly noticed that she’d actually stepped right into the house. Maybe I was taken aback because her teeth seemed to twinkle, and her skin glowed like she was some kind of magic lantern.
“Jacki Jewell,” she said with a wide smile that left stars in my eyes. “You must be Camilla. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
I said, “I’m not sure I…” Oh, hang on. I knew the name Jacki Jewell. That toothy grin was plastered all over For Sale signs in The Glebe, Sandy Hill and New Edinburgh. But what the hell was she doing in my front hall?
Closing the door behind her, I discovered. “Your sister sent me,” she said.
Of course. I should have known.
I said. “Which one?” Each of them is capable of meddling in my life in ways I never imagine until the meddling is in full swing and then it’s often hard to find a defensive position.
“Edwina,” she said cheerfully.
“Oh, well. She’s out of town. They’re all on a three-week Mediterranean cruise along with my father. Not back until the first of July.”
I didn’t bother to add that I’d been reveling in a spell of peace and quiet without their daily badgering about my failure to measure up on so many fronts: quality of housekeeping, career path, marital status and driving skills being the main ones. Of course, I’d been dashing back and forth to Nepean to check on their houses every few days, but that was a small price to pay for peace and quiet.
Her expression stayed positive, but I sensed a bit of strain at the corners of her lipsticky smile.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “But…”
“So whatever it is, I want you to know it wasn’t my idea.” I smiled grimly, expecting she’d take the hint.
“That’s fine,” she said, sticking to her guns. “Doesn’t matter at all. There’s no finders’ fee for my services. I hear you’re interested in selling this house.”
“Well, I guess I’ve been thinking about it. A bit. I haven’t really decided yet because…” I trailed off.
Of course, I’d been thinking about selling the house. That was putting it mildly. I’d inherited the property, car and a pile of financial assets. The house was pretty and convenient, but I had good reasons to feel guilty living in it. The neighbours were less than lovable and Alvin’s decorating didn’t help. To add to it, the house had been fully furnished, and now my own belongings and whatever had survived from my office were squeezed in too.
“Well, good, that’s why I’m here.”
“Doesn’t work for me. I’m not ready yet. I have stacks of material from my previous office, and it’s taken quite a while to get that sorted out. In fact, I’m working on that this weekend.”
She reached out and patted my shoulder, something I’ve never really tolerated well. I barely resisted the urge to swat her hand, partly because I’ve been working on being a nicer person, but mainly because I didn’t want a barrage of long-distance calls from my collective sisters admonishing me for my bad manners. Jacki Jewell must have read my mind because she withdrew her hand and kept it out of swatting distance.
She didn’t lose her glow though, nor did her linen wilt. I had to hand it to her. “I can help with that. It’s a specialty really. You’ll be so glad when it’s over.”
“Thanks for your interest, but as I just clearly said, I’m not ready yet and—”
She opened her mouth.
I held up my hand. “And I don’t do well under pressure.”
Alvin’s voice piped up behind me, speaking directly to Jacki Jewell. “It’s so true. You’d want to watch out for that.”
“Of
