O Is for Outlaw

anyway. What's one more thing?"
    She seemed curiously withdrawn. My guess was she'd had too much time to reconsider. At the Honky-Tonk earlier, I could have sworn she'd confide. People with problems are generally relieved at the chance to unburden themselves. Catch them at the right moment and they'll tell you anything you ask. I was kicking myself I hadn't had the opportunity to take her aside then.
    I said, "Look, I know you're pissed off because I didn't own up to who I was, "
    "Among other things," she said acidly. "I mean, give me a break. You're a private detective, plus you're Mickey's ex-wife?"
    "But Thea, get serious. If I'd said that up front, would I have learned anything?"
    "Probably not," she conceded. "But you didn't have to lie."
    "Of course I did. That was the only means I had of getting at the truth."
    "What's wrong with being straight? Or is that beyond you?"
    "Me, straight! What about you? You're the one screwing Mickey behind Scott's back."
    "You were screwing him too!"
    "Nope. Sorry. Wasn't me."
    She looked at me blankly. "But you said "Uh-uh. You might have leapt to that conclusion, but I never said as much."
    You didn't?"
    I shook my head.
    She started blinking, nonplused. "Then whose diaphragm was it?"
    "Good question. I just got the answer to that myself. It looks like dear Mickey was screwing someone else."
    "Who?
    "I think I'd better keep mum, at this point."
    "I don't believe you."
    "Which part? You know he was seeing someone. You saw the evidence yourself. Of course, if you weren't systematically betraying Scottie, you wouldn't have to worry about these things."
    Her gaze hung on mine.
    I said, "You don't have to look quite so glum. He did the same thing to me. That's just how he is."
    "It's not that. I just realized I didn't mind so much when I thought it was you. At least you'd been married to him, so it didn't feel so bad. Is he in love with this other woman?"
    "If he is, it didn't stop him from picking up on you."
    "Actually, I pursued him."
    "Oh, boy. I hate to say this, but are you nuts? The man's a barfly. He's unemployed, and he's older by what, fifteen years?"
    "He seemed, I don't know, sexy and protective. He's mature. Scottie's temperamental, and he's so self-involved. With Mickey, I felt safe. He loves women."
    "Oh, sure. That's why he betrays us every chance he gets. He loves each one of us better than the last, often at the same time but never for long. That's how mature he is."
    "You think he's going to be okay? I've been worried to death, but I can't get the hospital to say a word."
    "I hope so, but really I have no idea."
    "But you're hooked in, aren't you?"
    "I guess. What feels strange is I'd put him out of my mind. Honest, I hadn't thought of him in years. Now that he's down, he seems to be everywhere."
    "I feel the same. I keep looking for him. The door at the Tonk opens and I think he'll walk in."
    "Why'd he keep coming back? Was it you or was something else going on?"
    "Don't ask. I can't help you. I mean, I care about Mickey, but not enough to put my life on the line."
    "Isn't it possible Scottie knows?"
    "About Mickey and me?"
    "That's what we're discussing," I said patiently.
    "What makes you say that?"
    "How do you know it wasn't Scott who shot Mickey?"
    "He wouldn't do that. Anyway, his dad told us Mickey was gunned down two blocks from his apartment. Scottie doesn't even know where Mickey lives."
    "Well, that's weak. I mean, think about it, Thea. Where was Scottie a week ago last Wednesday?"
    "How should I know?"
    "Was he with you?"
    "I don't think so," she said. She stared at the table, going over it in her mind. "Tuesday, I was off. I wasn't feeling good."
    "Did you talk to Scott on the phone?"
    "No. I called and he was gone, so I left a message and he called me back the next day."
    "In other words, he wasn't with you that Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. We're talking May fourteenth."
    Thea shook her head.
    "What about the next day? Did you see him then?"
    She stubbed out her cigarette. "I don't remember every single day."
    "Start with what you do remember. When did you see Scottie last?"
    Grudgingly, she said, "Monday. He and Tim had a meeting on Sunday. He drove up for the night and then left for L.A. the next day. I didn't see him again until the weekend. That was Saturday a week ago. He drove up here yesterday and goes back to L.A. tomorrow."
    "What about you? Were you with Mickey at all on the night he was shot?"
    She hesitated. "I went down