Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

La Barre. Was he a good suspect?
    Vigorous nods. Shouts of approval. Tommy had fans.
    So how to find a motive?
    “Well, you could start in on his friends,” said Mickey.
    I sighed. “I can’t go around doing that— I mean, I’m still a lawyer. I guess I better hire an investigator.”
    “But you promised Rob.”
    It was true. We were still using the Chronicle ’s resources; I could hardly stop now.
    Kruzick said, “Maybe you could go to gay bars and ask around for Sean.”
    I almost said, “Maybe I’ll send you,” but that would have been playing right into his hands. He would have launched into an offensive swish act if I had. Years of knowing Kruzick were finally paying off.
    “Or you could thend me,” he said, holding his hands like paws, so I could watch his wrists go limp. So much for heading him off at the pass.
    “We could thend you to your room,” Mickey said.
    “But theriously,” said Alan.
    “Go!” Mickey pointed. She was getting tough, and I liked it.
    “I didn’t mean to do that. Seriously. Listen, I want to say something.”
    We cocked our heads politely.
    “This guy’s sex life is weird. I mean, it’s a trail to follow. It’s too strange to leave it alone.”
    He was right. It might have nothing to do with anything, but we couldn’t just leave it.
    “And I’ve got this other idea. Maybe some witch is mad at Chris. You know, like Chris is more powerful than she is, so she puts a spell on her to get revenge.”
    I tried to fathom this. “You know about her being psychic?”
    “I know she’s into something from the phone calls she gets.”
    Mickey said, “It would take a pretty damn powerful witch to get her name and number in Jason’s pocket.”
    “It’s interesting,” I said, “the way everybody went right from psychic to magic.”
    “What?”
    “Look. We’ve got to take Chris seriously. She feels lousy about being psychic. Let’s not make fun of her, okay?”
    “Touch-y,” said Kruzick.
    But Mickey said, “What’s it all about, anyway? I mean, it is pretty weird.”
    It seemed the secret was out. So I told them what Chris had told me in the dim sum restaurant. And then I launched into my favorite new subject— poor Rebecca betrayed by a heartless world that wouldn’t be still: “It’s hard for me, getting used to this. I mean, my best friend really isn’t the person I thought she was. She’s actually been leading a double life when you get down to it. I said that to Julio and turned out he had, too— I mean not really, he’s just in the men’s movement— or maybe he really isn’t, I don’t—”
    “Excuse me.” Mickey was up and out of there. We heard a door slam.
    “What’s going on?”
    Kruzick shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
    I got up and followed, but Mickey had locked herself in the bedroom. I heard sobs, but she wouldn’t answer my knocks. I couldn’t get back to the dining room fast enough— almost tripped over Lulu in the process. “Alan, what is going on?”
    “On the rag, I guess. She’s been weird lately.” He started clearing the table. That way he didn’t have to meet my eyes.
    “I swear to God, if you do not treat my sister the way she deserves to be treated, I’ll—”
    “What? Fire me? Hey, I quit. But I am treating her right. Why the hell is this my fault?”
    “Fire you! I’ll grind you up and make you into hot dogs, which I will donate to the zoo with the stipulation that they be fed to the monkeys. Mess with her and you are monkey shit, Kruzick!”
    “You need a vacation, you know that? And take Mickey with you.”
    Sure. Take her with me. He wanted to get her out of the house so he could carry on his affair. It had to be that because what else would she get so upset about the minute you mentioned secret lives?
    Figuring I was momentarily superfluous, I got out of there.
    And found myself with the same old blues I’d been singing all weekend. I didn’t want to be alone, that was all. It wasn’t like me, but I couldn’t shake it. Not even, apparently, by knocking on the door of everyone I knew.
    Why was I feeling so damned insecure? Honestly, it was a full two minutes, while my mind went through a litany of trivialities, before I remembered the lump. With amazement, I realized I’d had all day to call a doctor, and I hadn’t done it. Nothing like putting bad news off till tomorrow.
    But it was more than that— just as neurotic, but more. I couldn’t take time out to be sick right now. I could only