Jazz Funeral

murderer?”
    “Of course. I’m sorry about this.” She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, which was already damp from the Coke. “Being such a baby, I mean.”
    “Don’t be silly. This whole town loved Ham, and it’s going to take us all a while to get back to normal. I wanted to talk to you because I figure you know more than anyone else about the inner workings of JazzFest.”
    “Well …” She seemed to be assessing that. “I might. I guess with Ham gone, I probably do.”
    “What would you think about being a little indiscreet?”
    “Indiscreet?”
    “I have some unofficial questions for you. What the press calls deep background.” She spread her arms, showing how expansive she was, what good buddies she and Ariel were. “Oh, heck. Let’s call it what it is.”
    “Gossip?” For the first time since Skip had met her, her eyes twinkled; she smiled a real smile.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well, for Ham.”
    And they laughed together, just two fun gals having a real fun time together.
    “I was wondering about Ti-Belle.”
    “Yes?” Ariel licked her lips, poised for action. Looked slightly predatory. Skip had chosen well.
    “Well, I was wondering about her relationship with Ham. Did they get along well?”
    Ariel looked disappointed. “Ham didn’t really talk about that.”
    “But you probably saw them together a lot. I thought maybe you came to your own conclusions.”
    “Actually, they seemed perfectly happy. But I did overhear Ti-Belle telling someone else about a fight they’d had. It surprised me, to tell you the truth. Maybe that’s why—” She stopped, raising her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “It’s okay. This is all confidential. And let’s face it, Ariel—Ham’s dead. Trying to protect him at this point is an exercise in futility.”
    She looked down at the table. “I guess so.”
    “They fought and maybe that’s why …”
    “Okay. You’ll probably find out anyhow. Everyone’s buzzing about it.”
    “Yes?”
    “The word is, Ti-Belle’s seeing Nick Anglime.”
    “Ah.”
    “I haven’t personally seen them or anything—I’ve just heard it.”
    Skip took it in, raised an eyebrow, said nothing.
    Ariel looked pleased with herself.
    “You must hear a lot of things.”
    “It’s one of the things I like about the job.”
    “I must introduce you to my friend Alison Gaillard.”
    “Who?”
    “Someone you’d like. Tell me—was there any buzz about Ham?”
    “You mean seeing somebody?”
    Skip slouched back in her chair, the very picture of “nonthreatening.”
    “Um-hmm.”
    “Not that I can recall.”
    “Ariel, you’re blushing.”
    Her hands went to her face. “Oh, shit, I always do that. Well, hell. I was wondering if I should tell you. Okay; Ham and I got together once, a long time ago.”
    “‘Got together’? You mean you dated?”
    “No. We just kind of fell into bed one night when we were working late.”
    “Just once? That was the whole story?”
    “Yeah.” Her voice said it might have been for Ham but it wasn’t for her. “I guess he wasn’t very interested. Or maybe he didn’t want to get involved with an employee. So, hell. I went back to my natural color. That’ll show him.” She smiled, letting Skip know she was perfectly aware it wouldn’t show him anything.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Sorry, I guess I left something out. I was a blonde at the time, and Ham told me a weird thing. He was drinking—we both were—we went for a late drink and ended up having too many. I guess it was his idea of foreplay—what he said.”
    “What was it?”
    “He said he could only have sex with blondes, brunettes just didn’t do it for him. I guess I didn’t pay too much attention that night, but later, when he—you know—never followed up, I got mad about it. I thought, ‘Right, Mr. Big-Shot Producer, you can get all the blondes you want, so why mess with mere brunettes?’ Pissed me off.”
    “So you grew your hair out to show you didn’t care?”
    She touched her cheeks. “Oh, hell, I’m blushing again. I guess so. Only it didn’t feel like that. I just got less interested in being a blonde. I mean, the remark really turned me off. Like we have to make ourselves into whatever they want, and they just reject us anyway. I was sick and damn tired of it.”
    “Was this before he was seeing Ti-Belle?”
    She thought a minute. “I don’t think so. But they weren’t living together then—I do have some