"She's all right. Talk to her," Qwilleran said. Then he yelled, "Treat!" Both cats shot out of the foyer, and he followed them to the kitchen, where he gave them a crunchy snack.
Wilbank wandered into the kitchen, too. "I saw Colin this afternoon. He told me everything that you and he talked about. He said you suspected Josh Lumpton of kill-ing JJ."
"I did, until I found some evidence incriminating Hugh. When I confronted him with it, he picked up the same chair that clobbered J.J. and would have pitched me over the cliff, too, I imagine, if I hadn't been ready for him. If my guesses are right, he killed J.J. to protect himself and his father. I see Hugh as the mastermind of the Hot Potato Fund, while Josh was the organizer of the bootleg operation. J.J.'s editorial would have exposed both of them. Hugh's future wife collaborated because she wanted to inherit her father's estate. They compounded their crime by conspiring to send an innocent man to prison. This time around, justice will be done. If it isn't, my attorneys are going to raise the roof of the courthouse, and I daresay the Gazette won't let the prosecutor get away with anything this time."
"The prosecutor was defeated in the last election," said Wilbank. "A woman holds the office now."
"She'll find some former witnesses guilty of perjury, including Sherry," Qwilleran predicted.
"Ardis and I know Sherry pretty well. It's hard to believe she'd be a party to it."
"Sherry was a would-be heiress who wanted to see her male parent underground, although she found it expedient to profess filial friendship. On the weekend of the murder, perhaps J.J. read his inflammatory editorial to her. Writers with any ego like to read their stuff to a friendly ear, you know. Did Colin show it to you?"
Wilbank nodded. "It's in his safe. He said he made the situation clear to you."
"Quite clear! What will happen to Sherry now?"
"We'll take her with us and work something out with the prosecutor ... I think I hear the sirens."
As the paramedics maneuvered the stretcher down the twenty-five steps, the Wilbankstold Qwilleran they'd take a raincheck on the drink; they left with a silent young woman in tow, who tossed her hair back nervously.
He had a strong desire to call Polly Duncan and break the news of his successful investigation. Now that it was all over, he could tell her the whole story without alarming her. He felt free to boast to Polly; she listened with understanding. But first he had to wait for the discount phone rates to go into effect.
Tuning in the eleven o'clock news on the local radio station, he heard this brief announcement: "A police prisoner in Spudsboro General Hospital is a new suspect in the Father's Day murder of J.J. Hawkinfield last June, name withheld pending charges. A spokesperson for the sheriff's department refused to predict what effect the suspect's apprehension will have on the previous murder trial. Forest Beechum is currently serving a life term for the crime."
Before the announcer could conclude with dire predictions of damaging rain and severe flooding, Qwilleran's telephone rang, and an excited voice cried, "Did you hear the newscast? They have a new suspect! Forest may be coming home! Wouldn't it be wonderful?"
Tm very happy for you, Chrysalis. I've recently talked to my attorneys in Pickax, and they expressed an interest in the case, so if you want legal advice, you can call on them."
"Are they high-priced?"
"You don't need to worry about that. The Klingen-schoen Foundation makes funds available for worthy causes."
Tm so happy! I could cry!"
Qwilleran himself was exhilarated by the events of the day, and when he called Polly he said, "G-o-ood e-e-evening!" in a musical and seductive voice. She knew it well.
"Dearest, I'm so glad to hear from you!" she cried. Tve had a most unnerving experience!"
"What happened?" he asked in a normal tone, thinking that Bootsie had swallowed a bottle cap or fallen down a rat register.
"I'm still trembling! I attended that formal dinner I told you about and arrived home after dark. Just as I approached my driveway, I saw a car in front of the main house, parked the wrong way, and someone was behind the wheel. It was standing there with the lights off. I thought it was strange, because no one's living in the main bouse, and curb parking isn't allowed on Goodwinter Boulevard, you know. When I turned into the side drive, the car started up and followed me—without lights! I was terrified! When I reached the carriage house, I parked near the door, left my headlights on, and had my doorkey ready. Then I jumped out, almost tripping on my long dress, and saw this man getting out of the car! I was able to get inside and slam the door before he reached me, and I sat down on the stairs and bawled like a baby!"
Qwilleran had been speechless as he listened to the chilling account. "This is terrible, Polly! Did you call the police?"
