Janet Evanovich - Full Speed

"Would you calm down!" Max said.

"And what if I did kill him? What if he had a severe reaction to the laxative I put in his drink? Oh God."

"How many did you give him?"

"Two. I crushed them into a powder and put them in his drink."

"You didn't bother to tell me that."

"I figured you would think it was silly."

"People don't die from an over-the-counter laxative," Max said. "Now, calm down until I can get us out of here." He turned onto the interstate and sped up.

"What is all this noise about?" Muffin demanded. "I'm trying to download an e-card from my laptop friend at MIT and I can't think straight for all this noise."

"Harlan Rawlins is dead," Jamie said. "I was the last one to see him alive. Somehow they're going to find out who I am, and I'll end up on Unsolved Mysteries." She gulped. "Vera will find out. She'll probably be the one to turn me in."

"I'm not easily confused," Muffin said, "but you're not making any sense."

Max filled her in. Finally, he exited at a rest area and backed into a slot far away from the other motorists. He reached behind the seat and pulled out a license plate and a screwdriver.

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked.

"Covering our butts in case somebody got a look at the truck and wrote down the tag number. I always keep an extra on hand."

"Do you know how that sounds?" Jamie asked. "I can't believe I'm associating with a man who carries an extra license plate wherever he goes. That is scary."

"It works for me," he said, climbing from the truck.

Jamie leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. All she could see was Harlan's face as he'd looked in death. "Oh God," she said.

"Calm down, Jamie," Muffin said gently.

"I'm going to prison," Jamie said dully. "They'll put me on the chain gang. I could get the death penalty. What will I do with Fleas? Nobody is going to want him. They'll put him to sleep." She turned around and glanced at the bed of the truck where Fleas was sleeping.

"You're not going to prison," Muffin said. "Max will make a few telephone calls and—"

"And clear me of a murder rap? I don't think so."

Max opened the door. "Lose the wig."

Jamie looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Give it to me."

Jamie plucked it from her head. She watched Max toss the wig and license plate into a trash can. He returned and stashed the screwdriver behind the seat before climbing in.

"That's not going to do any good. My fingerprints are all over the hotel room."

Max shook his head. "Dave wiped everything down while I was trying to revive Harlan. He's good at that sort of thing since he hates germs."

Jamie rolled her eyes. Dave had almost gone off the deep end after touching Harlan. "You seem to forget there was a witness, Max. Harlan's bodyguard personally escorted me to the room."

"You were in disguise. And a damn good one at that," he added. "Nobody is going to recognize you once you wash off all that makeup."

"The police are going to lock me up and throw away the key."

"You're not going to prison," Max said. "I don't know what happened to Harlan, but I know you didn't have anything to do with it.

Unless he got so excited with you he had a heart attack."

"What?"

"Sounded like things got pretty hot in there. You were trying to get him undressed and into bed."

Jamie gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, brother," Muffin said. "I don't think I want to hear this."

"I heard it all," Max said. "I was afraid something like this would happen."

"Max, I don't think this is a good time to discuss what happened between Jamie and Harlan," Muffin told him. "I think we need to be a little more sensitive to her feelings."

Jamie looked at Max and shook her head. "Relax. Nothing happened."

"What?"

"Harlan got sick. I was trying to loosen his clothing so he could breathe. If I was trying to get him to lie down it was because I thought he was going to pass out." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You seem to really want to know all the details."

"Where you're concerned? Absolutely."

"Well, forget it. We need to figure out who killed Rawlins."

* * * * *

Ward Reed sat quietly in the living room of Harlan's suite as the detectives examined the man's body. The medical examiner had already been summoned, and they were awaiting him to pronounce Rawlins dead, despite all obvious appearances. An officer carefully wrapped the plates of food on the table while another dusted the room for fingerprints.

A young detective with a neat beard stood in the kitchen questioning the officer who'd first responded to the call. Finally, the detective joined Reed.

"I'm Detective Sills of the Knoxville Police Department," he said. "You're Ward Reed?"

He nodded. "I was Harlan Rawlins's bodyguard," he said.

Detective Sills sat down. "I've read your statement, Mr. Reed. You say you escorted a woman to the reverend's room this afternoon?"

"That's correct. I unlocked the door and let her in."

"And she said her name was Jane? She never gave you a last name?"

"No."

"Reverend Rawlins was to have lunch with her?"

"Yes."

"Was Reverend Rawlins alive when this Jane person arrived?"

"I didn't see him, but I heard him call out to her as I closed the door and put the Do Not Disturb sign on it."

"You also said you had seen Jane at the last church service."

Reed nodded. "And she visited the reverend in his home yesterday as well."

"Is it possible he might have listed her full name in his appointment book?"

"If he knew it, he would have, but he referred to her only as Jane when he asked me to notify the security guard at the front gate of the appointment. I can check."

"I'm sending a couple of my men over. They'll go through the reverend's things and question the guard."

"You'll give me time to break the news to Mrs. Rawlins first, right?"

"My men will have to follow you over, Mr. Reed. We'll want the reverend's office and personal belongings secured immediately." The detective made notes on his pad. "Did Reverend Rawlins often meet women here?"

"Do I have to answer that question?"

Sills shrugged. "You can answer it either here or at the station."

"Am I a suspect? Do I need an attorney?"

"This is normal procedure, Mr. Reed. Your answers will help in the investigation. As one of his most trusted employees, I'm certain you'll want this case solved as quickly as we do."

Reed sighed heavily. "Yes, he often met women here."

"Did you personally escort these women up to meet the reverend?"

"Yes."

"Can you remember their names?"

"It was really none of my business to know their names or why they were visiting, and I never felt the need to inquire. Had I thought the reverend was taking a risk, I would not have brought them up."

"You'll call me if you happen to remember any of their names?"

"Of course." He checked his wristwatch. "Is this going to take long? I really need to get back to the house and break the news to his wife."

"Be patient, Mr. Reed, I promise I won't keep you any longer than I have to. Do you think you could give an accurate description of this Jane person to our artist at the station? I'd like to have a composite drawing. After you speak to Mrs. Rawlins, of course."

Reed nodded. "I'll do my best."

The medical examiner, a heavy-set man whose double chin bulged over his shirt collar, walked into the room. "I'm done," he said.

"What can you tell me?" Sills asked.

"He's deader'n hell."

Sills sighed and muttered, "Thanks a lot."

The heavy man nodded. "I found pills on him, looks like amphetamines and barbs, but we won't know for sure until the crime lab checks them out." He shrugged. "But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what killed him. His throat was slit right through the carotid artery."