Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James

Author:Sarah James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

THIRTEEN

Kiblowski escorted us all to the police station, following in the squad car as Terry drove Vic and me in silence. Soon enough, Jack—followed a few minutes later by June—joined us in the blank off-white room, empty except for half a dozen uncomfortable blue padded chairs. “So,” said Kiblowski, still smiling, “I have some news for you all. Given the break-ins at both Miss Laurence’s and Mr. Durand’s, and the particularly threatening nature of that note, we’re reopening the investigation into Mrs. Farris’s death.”

“Why is that good news?” I asked.

“I didn’t say it was,” said Kiblowski. “I only said it was news. Although, wasn’t it you that spent the night of Mrs. Farris’s death trying to convince us someone at the Canteen had it out for her?”

“So you don’t think it was a suicide anymore?” Vic said.

“We think there’s enough reason to reexamine our initial findings, that’s all. Especially now that it’s going to be all over the papers that two of Mrs. Farris’s friends were attacked. We may come to the same conclusion; we may not.”

“If you’d listened to me that night, maybe Vic and I would still have windows,” I said.

“I can’t change the past, unfortunately, but I can try moving forward,” began Kiblowski. “It’s like Victor Hugo wrote: ‘To rise from error to truth is rare and beautiful.’”

“I prefer that other Victor Hugo quote,” said Jack. “‘All cops should jump off a bridge.’”

Kiblowski shot him a sour smile. “Detective Cooper and I have just a few questions for each of you. Wait here. We’ll be with you in a bit.”

With that, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Jesus,” sighed Jack before turning to me and Vic. “Are you two okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Physically, sure. Mentally, strap me down, sedate me, and lock the door,” answered Vic. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

“What?”

“Annie called you,” said Vic. “Both of you. You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear the phone ring,” said June.

Jack said nothing.

I closed my eyes. If whoever had thrown that brick through the window knew what we were doing and wanted to threaten us, get us to stop looking into Fiona’s death, then it couldn’t have been Beverly and Adam. I hadn’t seen them since the Canteen, hadn’t managed to get them on the phone today, hadn’t even spoken to someone who could have passed on a message that I was investigating anything. The Cooks couldn’t have thrown a brick through my window; therefore, they probably had nothing to do with Fiona’s death either. I was surprised to find myself relieved by this conclusion.

The next conclusion was not so welcome. Terry had said it herself, back at Vic’s place: only the five of us knew we were doing this. I wracked my brain for other potential culprits. Don knew we suspected foul play. But even if I’d been wrong to discard him as a suspect in Fiona’s murder, he couldn’t have been responsible for this threat. Don didn’t know where I lived.

In fact, no one

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