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from you
to help me solve the case. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, of course” Giving myself a mental shake, I
cleared my mind of everything besides the murder.
Needless to say, not a pleasant thought.
    “Now, if you could tell me exactly what happened
yesterday from the moment you met Hillman to the time
you returned to his house and found him dead” He
pushed a small tape player across the desk. “Just speak
slowly and clearly, and I’ll have our secretary transcribe
your statement later. Then you can look it over and see if
there are any changes you want to make. Okay?”
    “Okay” I cleared my throat a couple of times. It
seemed as though my windpipe was closing up and,
when I started speaking, my voice sounded unnaturally
strained. I’d never had to speak into a tape recorder like
this before and I was very conscious of enunciating
every syllable.
    Eventually, I relaxed into a comfortable rhythm and relayed everything that had occurred the previous dayleaving out my anger over Hillman’s criticism of my
bike path story. Detective Billie listened intently, occasionally jotting down a note in the manila folder.

    When I finished, he switched off the recorder.
“Thank you. Your statement should be very helpful”
His tone was brusque, all business.
    What did I expect? That he’d be bowled over by the
impeccable quality of my memory? That he’d find my
red hair suddenly irresistible? That he’d tell me I wasn’t
really a suspect? Hope springs eternal, even for me.
    “One thing-you said last night that Hillman critiqued the writers in the Institute and they appeared …
disturbed. Does that include everyone?”
    I hesitated. “Some of them. I think Chrissy was
probably the most upset” Although shy George did
have his fists clenched.
    “How upset?”
    “She started crying after Hillman left the room. The
other writers seemed to take it in their stride-especially
Burt and Betty” No doubt fortified by the margaritas.
    He scribbled down everything I was saying.
    “How about you? Were you angry?”
    “A little.” My windpipe started to close again. I
coughed a couple of times and cleared my throat. “But
not enough to kill him. I mean, it was only a bike path
story”
    “True” Detective Billie tapped his pen against his
cheek and regarded me with a deep, long look. “You said that Hillman was on the cell phone right before
you left. Did you hear him mention the name of the
person he was talking to?”

    “No.
    “And when you left, Chrissy Anders was going out to
the hottub to join him?”
    “Yes” So far so good. The motor mouth was under
control. “That means she might’ve been the last person
to see him alive, right?”
    “Possibly”
    “So then you’ll be questioning her too?”
    “Certainly.”
    “Who else will you be talking to?”
    He set the pen down. “Who’s doing the interview
here, Ms. Monroe?”
    “Just curious. And since I’m the main reporter for
the Observer, I’ll be the one to write the story-“
    “Hold it right there. Did Anita tell you that I’d share information with you or some such kind of foolishness?”
    I smiled.
    His straight, dark brows leveled into a severe line.
“Look, Ms. Monroe, I don’t involve civilians on murder cases and I certainly don’t give possible suspects
information about the case they’re connected with.” He
flipped the manila file shut. “Anita knows that. She still
thinks she’s working on the Detroit Free Press or something. The reality is this is a small island and she’s the
editor of a small-town weekly. Murder cases are out of
her league-and yours”

    My smile faded as irritation flared inside. I might not
be the most ambitious person or the most organized, but
it rankled when someone told me that I couldn’t do
something. That made me really want to do it. So what if
Detective Billie was a handsome hunk? He didn’t have
the right to order me around. “Maybe the Observer