The Friday Night Mystery Club by Joanna Campbell Slan

Author:Joanna Campbell Slan [Slan, Joanna Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spot On Publishing
Published: 2021-09-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

When I got back to my apartment, Zee was standing in the hallway and holding a basket of clean clothes. “Where have you been? You look awful.” She fussed over me the way a mother dog examines her pup after it’s been briefly removed. I almost expected her to sniff me and lick my ears.

“I’m okay,” I said in a world-weary tone. Making my statement had only taken twenty minutes, but the process had been draining.

Zee handed me her laundry basket while she locked her front door. Taking the basket from me, she walked with me into my apartment. “Go get changed,” she said.

While I put on sweats, she retrieved my mail, which was junk except for one envelope from a law firm. Inside was a letter from one James Platkzy, who identified himself as Robert Smithson’s attorney. He invited me to a reading of Robert’s will, immediately following the memorial service scheduled for Monday. I showed the letter to Zee. She read it and said, “Hmmm. Interesting.”

We sat on my sofa while I told her about being interviewed at the police station by a cop named Hooligan.

“Don’t you mean Hoolihan? Jimmy Hoolihan?” Zee asked.

“I guess so. Why?”

“Jimmy and I went to high school together. We were a year ahead of my brother, Latrell.” She stopped there. Nearly ten years ago, Latrell had been killed in a clash between a group of Black teenage boys and the police.

Raw pain passed over Zee’s face.

“I so sorry,” I whispered.

She stared down at her laundry basket. Absent-mindedly, she picked up a washcloth and folded it. “Hoolihan asked how you knew Robert and all that?”

“Right.” I grabbed a dishcloth to fold. “Get this: Tim told the cops that Robert and I were lovers! Can you believe it?”

“I’d like to bump into Tim in a dark alley. He’s no-count.”

“What’s that? No-count?”

“Worthless. What else did Hoolihan say?”

“Hoolihan said that he’d been told that Robert owed me money.”

“Is that so?” Zee lifted an eyebrow.

“Robert was into me for a whopping $35.53. He never carried cash. I always paid for our weekly lunch at Bell’s. Robert joked that he’d remember me in his will. He was always telling Frannie, our waitress, that one day I’d walk in with a big tip for her because I’d be an heiress.” I’d created a small stack of folded kitchen items. “Hoolihan asked me what story Robert might have been working on. I said I thought he was following up on the car plant. But Hoolihan exploded and said that there wasn’t going to be any car plant.”

“Dumber than a rock,” said Zee.

“I explained how I’d found the disk. I said that there wasn’t much on it, but it might have some value. I was prepared for that question, so I handed over a copy of the copies you and I printed. Then I got lucky. They didn’t ask me how long I’d had the disk or where I’d found it.”

“Whew,” said Zee. “Thank the Lord.”

“Up until then, Hoolihan had done most of the questioning.

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