Sandra Brown - Smoke Screen

“The two of you didn’t stay in touch after you left Charleston?”

“No.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t.”

“He was your best friend.”

“Was.”

“You hadn’t seen or spoken to him in five years?”

“No.”

“What caused the split? Your leaving? Or the events leading up to it?”

He wasn’t yet ready to talk about that. He had to get his facts straight on how Jay had died before he could address how he’d lived. “Jay told you he was dying.” She nodded. “Do you think he told you because he wanted a mercy fuck?”

She gave him a withering look. “That’s such a juvenile question. Such a man thing to conclude. I thought so when the two detectives asked me the same.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them no. Jay didn’t have to resort to pity any more than he would resort to date rape drugs.”

“That’s such a woman thing to conclude.”

“He didn’t.”

“Spoken with the voice of experience.”

She was about to retort to that but changed her mind and only stared at him, seething but silent.

“So he didn’t get you there to tell you he had only a few weeks to live.”

“No.” She told him that Jay had dismissed her sympathy. “He said he didn’t have time to talk about cancer and funerals. He said that he had something much more important to tell me, and that the story he had to tell would launch me straight into a network job.”

Raley waited, his heart knocking with anticipation. After several seconds passed, he said, “So what was the career-making story?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” He came out of his chair so quickly, she jumped in alarm. “I’m not a competing reporter. I’m not gonna call a network and get the jump on you. You can have your precious story, I just want to know what Jay told you.”

She came out of her chair to face him squarely. “Nothing! He became-”

“What?”

“Nervous. On edge.”

He barked a laugh. “Jay?”

“Jay.”

“Nerves of steel, always in control, never ruffled Jay? That Jay Burgess?”

“Yes. I realize it sounds out of character-”

“No, it sounds ludicrous.”

“I’m telling you, he got jittery and began to sweat.”

He raked the fingers of both hands through his hair, holding it off his heated face for several seconds before letting it go. He propped his hands on his hips and stared at her. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you? You see an opportunity and you grab it. You’ve got everybody by the balls and you’re loving it. The police. Me. Everyfuckin’ body. You’re milking this thing for all it’s worth, making up this elaborate story about memory loss when what really happened is that you and Jay got drunk together and then you screwed him to death.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think about me,” she said, one angry word tumbling after the next. “You, who live out here in this…this…shanty that looks like Tobacco Road, have no room to talk to anybody about ambition and what one does with one’s life. Think what you want about me.”

“Thank you, I will. I do.”

“But for whatever else I am, I’m not a liar. If you dragged me out here to beat the truth out of me, then you’ve committed a crime for nothing. You could have got the same truth from the newspaper. I went on record today at that news conference with the truth. You can like it or not, accept it or not, believe it or not. I really don’t give a damn.”

She took another step so they were standing almost toe to toe. “Jay was on the verge of divulging something vitally important to him. But he became nervous and distracted. He began to take notice of people at nearby tables. He glanced toward the bar several times. Even when he was talking to me, he was looking past me, over my-”

She broke off and for several seconds continued to stare into Raley’s face, but he thought she wasn’t really seeing him anymore. She backed away and sat down hard in the chair, staring into near space.

He returned to his chair and sat down, keeping his gaze fixed on her but remaining silent, not wanting to scare away a memory that was creeping back into her consciousness. He had hoped that prodding her, hammering at her as he’d done, would shake loose a recollection. Apparently it had. He waited.

Finally she began to speak. “I once interviewed a man who agreed to talk to me about a labor strike, but only if he could remain anonymous. My sound tech and I electronically altered his voice, and he wore a hood during the interview. And even then, all the while I was interviewing him, his eyes weren’t on me. Through the holes in the hood I could see them looking past me, just beyond my shoulder, anxiously darting from side to side. I even turned my head once to see what he was looking at. I didn’t see anything to be afraid of. But he did.”

Her eyes pulled Raley back into focus. “That’s how it was with Jay. I thought his restlessness meant he wasn’t feeling well, or that he’d become too warm in the crowded bar, or that, despite his dismissal of the cancer, he’d become upset when we talked about it. But now, I think he was afraid.”

“Of someone in the bar?”

“What else could it have been?”

“Did you ever turn and look behind you?”

“Actually, I was about to. Maybe Jay sensed it, because he reached for my hand and asked if we could move to his place to continue our conversation. He left money on the table, and we headed for the exit.”

“Did either of you speak to anyone as you left the bar?”

“No. Except to excuse ourselves as we made our way through the crowd.”

“No cross words with anyone? No hostile exchange of any kind?”

“Not even a dirty look.”

“See anyone who looked suspicious?”

“Suspicious?”

“Sinister. Up to no good.”

“I have only blurred images.” After a moment, she shook her head. “No, I don’t recall anyone with clarity.”

“Anyone follow you and Jay from the bar?”

“No.” Then hesitantly she said, “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“A memory flickered, but…”

He could tell she was trying to snag it, hold on to it, but she failed to. “I don’t think anyone followed us, but I can’t be positive.” She brought her eyes back to his. “I explained all this to the police. Nothing, nothing out of the ordinary happened between the table and the exit.”

“What about on your walk to Jay’s town house? Did you meet anyone along the way?”

“I don’t believe so, although I don’t have a sharp recollection of the trip. I was well looped by then. I vaguely remember going inside his town house and immediately making my way to the sofa, wanting to sit down. Needing to. I wondered how I could have become so drunk over one glass of wine, and I didn’t even finish the glass.”

“So you went to the sofa and…?”

“And, that’s it. I can’t remember anything else.”

“Did Jay join you on the sofa?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you start making out?”

“I’ve just told you I don’t even remember if he sat down beside me.”

“Do you remember drinking scotch?”

“No. But I must have because I threw it up the next morning.”

“Jay was good at talking women into doing things they were reluctant to do. Like drinking too much, taking off their clothes. He was an expert at getting a woman out of her clothes. He boasted about his technique.” He watched her closely, interested to see how she would respond.

“If he exercised his technique on me, I don’t remember it. I don’t know how I became undressed, or how we got into bed, or what we did there.” Suddenly there was a catch in her voice. Her blue eyes filled. “Can you imagine how awful that is for me? I realize you have a low opinion of me, but no one deserves to be taken advantage of that way. I don’t know what was done to me that night, but the possibilities of what could have been done without my knowledge or consent make me sick and afraid.”