Murder in the Collective by Barbara Wilson

Author:Barbara Wilson [Wilson, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781480455146
Google: MZCYAQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00G3WL5K8
Barnesnoble: B00G3WL5K8
Goodreads: 18722717
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1984-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

19

AT FIRST I DIDN’T think Elena was going to open the door, even when she peeped through the tiny hole and saw it was Hadley and me.

“It’s okay, Hadley,” she said through the scorched wood. “Everything’s okay now. Fran’s here and everything’s okay.”

“I want to see her,” said Hadley.

“Well, she’s asleep. She’s asleep and she’s exhausted.”

“I don’t believe you, Elena. Come on, open up.”

She opened up. Fran was sitting resignedly on the sofa, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Had,” she said and nodded to me, “Pam.”

She looked tired but relatively tranquil. Her black, white-streaked hair was smooth and her strong forehead gleamed like coated paper. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, but not much. She didn’t turn away from Hadley’s scrutiny. “Here you see me,” she shrugged. “Back in the land of the living.”

“Not everyone is, anymore,” I put in. “Jeremy, for instance.”

Hadley said, “Would you mind telling us where you’ve been all this time and what you know about what’s been going on?”

The gentleness and intimacy of her tone took me aback; what a way to question our star witness. Elena, who’d been fidgeting over to one side, broke in.

“Can’t it wait, Hadley? Fran has been through a lot. We’ve spent the last two hours just getting things straight between us. Why do we have to talk about Jeremy and the rest of it now?”

I thought Elena looked worse than Fran, like she was the one who’d been out on a binge. Fran just appeared tired, but Elena was strung out like a nervous cat. Her hair was still greasy and a muscle moved in her slender cheek. There was a slightly rank smell to her, as of too many suppressed feelings. Emotions, like the garbage, should be taken out and dumped once in a while.

I would have given in, gone home, but Hadley was implacable, in spite of her gentleness.

“You can go to bed anytime, Elena. It’s Fran’s story I’m interested in.”

Elena didn’t budge, but shot Hadley a look of despair and dislike that astonished me. I’d thought they were friends; what was all this about?

But Fran was speaking, in deep, measured tones, as if her speech were rehearsed. “I know I’ve put you through a lot, all of you. I can’t really say what started it. I remember just feeling angry, at you, Pam, and at Elena, in the Bar & Grill. I get into these things, these drinking things, with the excuse that I’m allowing myself to feel, allowing myself to get in contact with how I really am, bad and strong and not afraid. And I want to lash out.” Fran’s deep voice had gotten flat now, almost expressionless. “There’s a fatalism to it, as if something builds up and then just has to work its way out. I feel it, I don’t understand it. And lately, you know, of course, it’s been getting out of control. It’s scared me to face giving it up though. It’s been the only way I’ve known of getting rid of myself for a while.

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