LITMIR.BIZ

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stepped back and looked directly at Kendall. “You think they’re going to charge me with Lulu’s murder, don’t you?”

      “I think that if they don’t find another suspect and they can come up with the least bit of evidence against you, no matter how circumstantial, they just might try to pin this on you.”

      On the way to the Criminal Justice Center, Jim Norton sipped on a container of black coffee as he maneuvered his seen-better-days Chevy truck along Poplar Avenue. He’d downed a cup of the high octane brew before he left his apartment in the Exchange Building, right after wolfing down a bowl of corn flakes. The alarm clock had gone off at six-thirty, but he’d hit the snooze button twice. He’d gotten all of maybe four hours sleep. He’d tried to get in touch with his ex-wife last night without any luck. He didn’t really give a damn where Mary Lee was or who she was with, but he sure as hell wanted to know where his son was. Spending the night with a friend again? Whenever Mary Lee needed to scratch an itch, she’d send Kevin to a friend’s for the night.

      He could complain. He had in the past. But Mary Lee had pointed out to him that he was lucky she didn’t have sole custody. “What if you didn’t even have visitation rights?” she had asked him when he’d suggested she let him keep Kevin whenever she had a date. “All things considered, you’re lucky I let you see Kevin as much as I do. After all, if I hadn’t agreed to your getting some visitation rights—”

      He’d just call her again later this morning—or at least try to—to make sure she hadn’t forgotten that he was supposed to pick up Kevin this evening and keep him until Monday morning. He’d made plans for them to spend tomorrow with his sister Susan’s family. Kevin enjoyed spending time with his three cousins, twin boys only a year older than he and a girl two years younger. Jim liked the idea of his son seeing what a real family was like. That’s what he’d wanted for Kevin—that all-American, mom-and-apple-pie life he and Susan had had as kids. But both he and Mary Lee had fucked up big time. And now, thanks to them, Kevin would never have what Jim had wanted most for his son.

      He could blame it all on Mary Lee. And sometimes, especially when he’d had too much to drink, he did blame it all on her. But when completely sober and in the cold light of day, he knew he had to accept his share of the blame. Way back when he’d been a young hotshot with great ambition, he had neglected his wife and son. His arrogance and cockiness had gotten his partner killed, had put him in the hospital and had landed him in a heap of trouble with the department. By the time he’d healed physically and emotionally, he’d already lost his wife, even if they didn’t divorce until nearly three years later.

      After pulling into his parking place and releasing his safety belt, Jim removed his cell phone from its holder and hit the button that instantly dialed his ex’s home phone number. Much to his surprise, she answered on the fifth ring.

      “Mary Lee?”

      “Yeah. Who were you expecting, the Queen of Sheba?”

      “I tried calling last night.”

      “I had a date.”

      “Stayed out kind of late didn’t you?”

      She laughed. “I stayed out all night. Just got in.”

      If she thought telling him she’d spent the night with some guy would bother him, she was wrong. He had actually given a damn that she screwed another guy only one time. The time he’d caught her in the act. After that, she could have done it with every guy in Memphis for all he cared. He just hated that Kevin’s mother had gained a reputation as a…as a what? A slut who’d spread her legs for just about any guy?

      Mary Lee had always been a little wild and God knew she hadn’t been a virgin when they got married, but he hadn’t cared. He’d been crazy about her. Hog-wild crazy. And she’d loved him, too. He knew she had.

      “I just wanted to remind you that I’ll be picking Kevin up at six-thirty this evening,” Jim said. Now wasn’t the time to get into it with Mary Lee about Kevin spending too many nights at other people’s houses.

      “He’ll be ready. He’s been looking forward to seeing you.”

      “Yeah, me, too.”

      “Jim?”

      “Huh?”

      “I saw in this morning’s Commercial Appeal where you and your partner are working the Lulu Vanderley murder.”

      “Yeah.”

      “Lulu Vanderley was somebody real important, wasn’t she? If you solve this one and bring her killer in, it sure won’t hurt your career, will it?”

      “I don’t worry as much about my career as I used to,” he told her.

      “You don’t worry as much or care as much about a lot of things.”

      “That’s the way life is.” He took a deep breath. “Tell Kevin I’ll see him at six-thirty.”

      Before giving Mary Lee a chance to say anything else, Jim hung up. One of these days he’d be able to have a conversation with his ex and not think about what might have been. “If only” was a game for idiots.

      Annabelle emerged from her white Cadillac, hoisted her leather bag over her shoulder and took a deep, calming breath. On the drive over from Austinville, she’d made a dozen phone calls, using her On-Star system, which made phoning while driving an easy, risk-free task. She’d spoken to the president and two vice presidents at Vanderley, Inc., and helped their top PR person word a press release about Lulu’s murder. She’d also spoken to her uncle twice and it had broken her heart to hear the sound of his weak, trembling voice. Knowing that Dr. Martin had arranged for nurses to be at Uncle Louis’s side twenty-four/seven gave her some comfort.

      Before leaving early this morning, she’d fielded numerous calls from local, state and even national newspapers and televisions stations. Her cousin’s murder was front-page news throughout the state of Mississippi and most of the South. Even now, a good twelve hours after hearing the news from Sheriff Brody, Annabelle was having difficulty believing it was true. Accepting the death of a family member was always difficult—she’d gone through the agony with her aunt Meta Anne’s and both her parents’ deaths and again when she lost Chris. When someone young died, someone only twenty-seven as Lulu had been, the loss seemed all the greater because you felt that the person hadn’t gotten a chance to live a full life. She’d felt that way when Chris died two years ago. He had been the center of her world for so long that shortly after the funeral, she’d fallen apart completely. But in typical Annabelle style, she hadn’t allowed herself to wallow in self-pity for very long. She’d pulled herself up by the proverbial bootstraps, dusted off her bruised and bloody emotions and thrown herself back into work. Thank God for work. It had been her salvation more than once over the years.

      As she approached the Poplar Avenue entrance to the Criminal Justice Center, she recited the directions she’d been given over the telephone by the helpful police officer she’d spoken to an hour ago while she’d been en route. With her mind on other matters—finding the homicide division of the police department within this huge complex, as well as thinking about what she’d be told concerning Lulu’s murder—Annabelle failed to notice the small crowd gathering around her. Suddenly, someone shouted her name. She jerked her head up and searched for the speaker.

      “Ms. Vanderley? Annabelle Vanderley?” A short, wiry man with a camera in hand moved toward her.

      “Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”

      “You are Lulu Vanderley’s cousin, Annabelle, aren’t you?” a small, slender blonde holding a microphone in her hand asked as she zeroed in on Annabelle.

      “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” another reporter joined in the fray.

      “I have no comment,” Annabelle told them. “The spokesperson for Vanderley, Inc. will make a statement at noon today at our headquarters in Jackson, Mississippi.”

      “Is

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