Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

have it even in August) did I speak. “You know what that felt like? Like not being in a room at all. You had no right to accuse Rob.”
    “I didn’t accuse him.”
    “The hell you didn’t! Your voice did, and the question did. Whatever was going on in there was between Rob and me, not Rob and you.”
    “You’re my daughter.”
    “I’m an adult. Also, what was going on was not your business. But be that as it may, if you wanted to stick your nose in, I was the person to address, not the other person because he happened to be male.”
    “I was trying to protect you.”
    “My point exactly. I’m not two, Dad. I can protect myself.”
    “Well, it looked like you were doing a piss-poor job.”
    Dad, it had nothing to do with Rob. I was upset because I might have cancer.
    I couldn’t say that now. As inappropriate as it was for Dad to try to protect me from Rob, it would have been great to have some paternal comfort about The Thing. But I couldn’t ask now. I’d gotten up this head of righteous indignation that said, Don’t mess with me, I'm strong. I couldn’t switch gears in mid-tantrum.
    In the end, it was better, I guess. I had hated being treated like some teenage princess by my very politically correct father, but now that that was over, the anger it left in its wake felt a lot better than feeling sorry for myself.
    We walked in silence for a while, me huffing with righteousness and Dad thinking it over, I guess. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Beck. I won’t do it again.” But his blue eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”
    “Okay.” I put out my hand. “Truce.”
    He sighed. “I thought I’d finally passed Feminism 101.”
    “Just don’t open any doors.”
    He laughed. Mickey objected to this, though I didn’t. I said, “What made you drop by, anyway?”
    “I wanted some of Alan’s fabulous coffee.”
    “Bleeagh. Well, I’m glad to see you. I wouldn’t mind getting your opinion on McKendrick and Chris.”
    It was probably what he’d come to talk about anyway. The story had been heavily covered by all the local media, but aside from a polite call the first day, both my parents had pretty well kept their noses out of it. Which was a great thing, especially in the case of Mom. But Dad was the best lawyer in town, and since I had access to a free opinion, I was going for it.
    He said, “Are you sure she didn’t do it?”
    “What!” I couldn’t believe my ears. Chris was family.
    He patted the air, okay-okay. “Just checking. You’d have some intuitive feeling if something didn’t ring right.”
    “Do you rely on intuition a lot?” I hadn’t told him about Chris’s little psychic problem.
    He looked shocked. “All the time. Don’t you?”
    I pondered. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
    “I’ll tell you what mine says now— or maybe it’s just common sense.”
    “What?”
    “Chris knows something.”
    It was all I could do not to say, ‘How dare you question her? How could you?’ Instead, I said, “She says she never even met McKendrick.”
    “Well, then, I’d believe her on that. But it wasn’t coincidence her car was used. How could it have been? Someone had to follow her to that movie.” (I’d made the Raiders meeting a movie so as to keep her secret, yet make clear she didn’t have a decent alibi.)
    “All she’ll say is she doesn’t have any enemies.”
    “Famous last words. Look, she probably knows something she doesn’t know she knows. Could it be that?”
    “I think it could. But what?”
    “Maybe she should try hypnosis.”
    “It’s a thought.” A formidable thought. Here was someone who already spent lots of her time in a trance. If we could find a reputable hypnotist, it could be a great shortcut. I told Dad about Tommy La Barre.
    He shook his head unhappily. “I don’t know, Beck. You better hope it’s not him. This is the kind of guy who’s going to have an unshakeable alibi.”
    “If he hired someone, maybe they’ll turn up.”
    “How? You think they’ll find Jesus and suffer remorse?”
    “I thought you might have some ideas.”
    “Thanks for the vote of confidence. When looking for a hit man, see Isaac Schwartz.”
    “Omigod, that’s a great idea. I just meant I thought you might be able to think of a strategy. But come to think of it, you know half the unsavory characters in town.”
    “And those I don’t know probably carry my tattered business card just in case. But La Barre’s probably connected. I stay as far as