Catch a Falling Knife

find any marijuana at Elise’s apartment?”
    “No. It appears that she had been smoking somewhere else earlier that evening.”
    But probably not with Ted. “Maybe she had another boyfriend,” I said, “and she was out with him.”
    “There’s nobody either her parents or her roommate knows about.” Detective Johnson turned his gaze on Mark. “But we’re still working on it.”
    “I heard she had a boyfriend last year. Could that still be going on?”
    “I talked to him. That was over last June, almost a year ago. And besides, he has an ironclad alibi for the night of the murder.”
    Who did that leave? Was Detective Johnson implying that she had gone out with Mark? I found myself wondering whether or not Mark had ever smoked marijuana. But that had to be irrelevant.
    My thoughts were interrupted by the other officer knocking at the door.

Chapter 18
     
    Mark didn’t have to show up at his job as bartender until late in the afternoon and so he was at loose ends. Since he didn’t like the idea of me driving myself to Bethany, he insisted on taking me to Eric Hoffman’s home. It wasn’t because he had anything to do at Crescent Heights College; he had made his appeal for reinstatement and his fate was in the hands of the committee that decided such things. They would issue a ruling when they were good and ready.
    When I asked him what he thought his chances were, he said, “What are the chances of a lion and a zebra signing a non-aggression pact?”
    “That bad, eh?”
    “Let’s just say that I should have decided on a career as a burglar when I had the opportunity.”
    I didn’t say much more on that subject. I figured that the best way I could help lift Mark out of his depression was to solve the murder of Elise. We agreed that he shouldn’t talk to Eric Hoffman so he dropped me off at the Hoffman driveway and drove away. I would call his beeper with my cell phone when I was ready to be picked up. He used the beeper in conjunction with his bartending job.
    I had called Eric from my apartment to make sure that he was going to be there and June wasn’t. She had returned to work. I told him that after talking to Detective Johnson I had some more ideas I wanted to discuss with him. He seemed to be willing to talk to me. I didn’t tell him that the detective had threatened me and I didn’t plan to tell him about Elise’s marijuana use. Let Detective Johnson do that. After all, that’s what he got paid for.
    I carried a dog treat for Monster; King loved them so I hoped Monster would too. Monster growled a little when he first saw me, but then he must have recognized my scent because he stopped and came amiably forward. The treat cinched it. We were buddies for life. I scratched him between the ears and told him I had to talk to his master.
    Eric acted surprised when he answered the doorbell and found that I had gotten past Monster without him hearing. He appeared to be agitated as he invited me to come inside and sit down. He served us coffee that was already made. He declined my offer to help, saying that he could carry the tray with one hand and wield his cane with the other.
    He could, although the tray shook slightly and the contents chattered as he placed it on the coffee table. But he was still strong. I took a sip of coffee and was preparing what to say when I noticed a copy of the Bethany Bugle sitting on the table beside the coffee tray. That was my opening
    “Have you read today’s paper?” I asked, indicating the Bugle .
    Eric looked startled. “You don’t get that paper, do you?”
    “I was told there was an article in it about Donna.”
    “Is that why you’re here?”
    “I do want to talk about Donna, yes. How do you feel about the article?”
    “How do I feel about Elise’s roommate working as a stripper at Club Cavalier? How do I feel about her best friend corrupting my baby? I’ve dedicated my life to stopping the sin and the shame of this sort of thing. How do you think I feel?”
    The words were there, but the passion wasn’t. It sounded as if Eric were reading the scripture lesson in church. Maybe it was because Donna was the sinner, rather than Elise. Eric opened the paper to the article and handed it to me. I pretended to read it, going “tsk-tsk” at appropriate moments.
    “I guess this changes things,” I said, handing the paper back to him.
    “It throws a monkey wrench into my feelings about Donna. When she came here she seemed like such a nice girl,