Got Your Number

could Tammy have told Nell?
    "What does this have to do with Carl Seger's murder?" Mike asked.
    Jaffey gave her the evil eye. "I think it's mighty convenient for Ms. Ryder to suddenly say that she saw Dr. Seger's car leaving the scene of a hit-and-run when he's not alive to defend himself." He pointed his finger at her. "Maybe you ran Tammy Paulen down in the street and now see your chance to pawn it off on Dr. Seger and claim self-defense for murdering him."
    She shook her head. "No, you're wrong. Besides, my car was examined."
    "But not until three days after the accident. It had been washed."
    She didn't respond.
    Jaffey slammed his hand on the table. "Did Tammy Paulen know you got on your knees for Dr. Seger? Was she threatening to tell?"
    "N-no. Tammy died when I was a freshman, and the thing with Dr. Seger didn't happen until I was a senior."
    "So you say. Then what was the big secret Tammy was holding over your head?"
    "You don't have to answer," Mike said. "She's already told you what happened with Dr. Seger. You can see by her bruises that the man nearly killed her."
    Jaffey shrugged. "Maybe she’s into erotic asphyxiation."
    Angora's eyes bugged. She'd read about that kind of thing—is that what Carl had been trying to do?
    "Ms. Ryder, did you know your cousin went to Dr. Seger's house last night?"
    She frowned. "What?"
    "She jogged over there to see what was going on." He angled his head. "What do you suppose she saw when she looked in the window?"
    Angora's stomach twisted. Roxann had spied on them? Had she seen Carl fondling her? Choking her?
    Roxann had seemed so concerned this morning on the back porch, but was she covering up her own sins? If jealousy had propelled her to follow them, maybe she had seen them together and snapped. Maybe Roxann had killed Carl with her scarf while she lay passed out on his bed. And now she was letting Angora take the rap.
    A sudden sharp pain in her chest took her breath away. She clutched the top of her dress, and fell forward in her chair.
    "Ms. Ryder," Mike said, his voice elevated. "Ms. Ryder, are you okay?"
    She was having a heart attack. She was going to die and everyone would say she was a murderer and Dee would have her cremated so she wouldn't have to bother with tending a grave.
    The pain grew so intense her stomach heaved. Bright lights exploded behind her eyes. Someone grabbed her, but it was Carl, and he had his hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. She gasped for breath and clawed the air. God, what a waste her entire life had been. No one would even miss her.

Chapter Twenty-two

    "SHE’LL BE FINE," Capistrano said for the tenth time.
    Roxann threw back the last mouthful of her hospital-vending-machine coffee. The emergency waiting room was packed with old people and mothers bouncing crying babies, which was why Jaffey and Warner had vamoosed two hours ago after giving orders for Angora to come back as soon as she was physically able. Meanwhile, she and Capistrano were holed up on a thinly padded bench in a corner. "I hope so."
    "Is there a history of heart disease in your family?"
    "No." She tossed the cup into an overflowing trash can sitting at her knee. "Just schizophrenia."
    He smiled, but when she didn't smile back, he sobered. "Seriously?"
    She nodded. "My dad told me the other day that our great-aunt was committed to an asylum after she pushed someone out of a window."
    "Did the person die?"
    "Yes."
    He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "So what triggered that revelation?"
    "I asked him."
    "Why?"
    "Because Nell told me that Angora was a suspect in a hit-and-run that occurred when we were students here."
    "Who was the victim?"
    "A girl named Tammy Paulen. She was a sorority sister of Angora's."
    "Why was she considered a suspect?"
    "Because she and the girl didn't get along. Apparently Tammy was holding something over Angora's head."
    "Do you know what it was?"
    She didn't look at him. "Yes. But I can't say."
    "Was it enough for her to want to kill the girl over?"
    "Of course not."
    "But you think she might have?"
    Roxann leaned back against the wall. "I don't know. It's hard to explain—Angora has always lived in a bit of a fantasy world. She would make up stories to convince people—and maybe herself—that her life was exciting."
    "What kinds of stories?"
    "Oh, the places she'd been and the people she'd met. It was funny because Angora would lie about little things that didn't matter."
    "I guess they mattered