Death and the Motherlode

Chapter Eight

"So what did you do when Ms. Alston came downstairs?" Greenberg asked. The tap water hadn't improved my mood any, but I galloped for the finish line as fast as my tongue could carry me. I wanted out.

"I yelled at her," I said. "Something about being a thin-skinned, callow bitch."

"That's all?" Karlson asked.

I looked at him, but he wasn't even cracking a smile. "I reserve my more pungent epithets for policemen," I said.

Greenberg remained undeterred by the witty badinage. "What'd she say?"

"Nothing. She seemed frightened."

"Of you?" Greenberg snorted.

I bit my lip. Arguing with them wouldn't get me out of the interrogation any sooner. "I might appear more menacing, Officer Greenberg," I said, "if you consider that she was five feet two inches in her stocking feet and weighed all of 120 pounds carrying a ten-pound bowling ball. The Princess was tiny. I had her backed into a corner outside Will's office. I loomed over her. I think she expected me to hit her."

"Did you?" Karlson asked. He seemed to enjoy watching his partner rip me a new one.

I took a deep breath. My hands gripped the edge of the table. This was the part they weren't going to believe. "I wanted to," I said, "but she appeared too damned pathetic. I prefer an adversary who doesn't cringe."

"Did Mr. Dolan hear any of this?" Greenberg said.

This was a new one. I had to think about it. "Probably. Her sobbing was loud."

Karlson seemed puzzled. "She was crying loudly, and nobody came to help?"

"Will's office is in the other corner, across from Jimmy's. He came out to see what was wrong."

"What explanation did you give?" Karlson asked.

I shrugged. "I let the Princess handle it. No one was going to believe me if she said I got physical."

Karlson surprised me by nodding in agreement.

Greenberg was now scratching his other ear with the pen. "And she said what exactly?"

"She told him she'd stubbed her toe on the copy machine."

Karlson offered up a faded smile. "How come?"

I shook my head. "It's a mystery to me. I was sure she'd go for the jugular."

"She walks away after you threaten her?" Greenberg's eyebrows were almost up to his hairline. He wasn't buying it. The look on his pasty face was as attractive as his mustard yellow golf shirt.

"The Princess tripped lightly up the stairs together with Will," I said. "And that's the last time I saw her alive."

"She said she stubbed her toe?" Karlson's partner still wasn't getting the point.

"Nobody bought that, did they, Paulette?" Karlson tried to bore into me with his blue eyes. Great, now he wanted to take control.

"Nope," I said, "not even Will, who isn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"And then?"

As much as I didn't want to blab the rest of the story, I did. I told them how Jimmy, impressed with my forbearance concerning Her Majesty, asked me to go out for coffee. Coffee consisted of two large orders of cheese fries and a giant Cherry Pepsi shared on a picnic table at Sinnissippi Park overlooking the Rock River and the bike path.

Under a full yellow moon, we talked about our dreams, our loves, and what brought us to this moment in our lives. I didn't know if I should blame the moonlight or the caffeine, but Jimmy Dolan made me dizzy. At the time, I didn't know that the man who deftly administered my goodnight kiss would also be my alibi. Because, if the cops were telling me the truth, the Princess was killed while Jimmy and I were entwined.

Karlson didn't ask a single question after that, and he didn't look at me, even when Greenberg escorted me out.