I didn’t want to go into a long explanation, so I said, “Nothing as dramatic as all that. I broke a collarbone playing hockey.”
“Oh, McKenzie, you’re too old to be playing hockey.”
“Gordie Howe was fifty-two when he retired, and I’m nowhere near his age.”
“You’re not Gordie Howe, either.”
She had me there.
“Were you playing without a helmet?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you have a bruise on your forehead? Why is your cheek scratched and your hand bandaged?”
“I’m accident-prone.”
Jenny drank half of her wine in one gulp before setting the glass in front of her. She held the stem with fingers from both hands, but when her hands began to tremble, she released it and slid them under the table. All of a sudden, she was afraid again.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” I asked.
Her eyes left the glass, met mine, and looked away. “You’re lying to me,” she said.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s a very long story and I don’t want to go into it.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?”
“What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jen?”
“Why did you call me? Are you worried? You have to know I won’t tell anybody.”
“Tell anybody what?”
“Nothing. I don’t know anything. McKenzie, please.”
“Jenny Hackert,” I said.
“It’s Thomas now, and has been for almost twenty years.”
“You’ll always be the girl in the yellow bikini to me, Jen. Tell me what’s wrong?”
Jenny’s hands came out from under the table and took hold of the wineglass again. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“Why do you think I’m here? What’s made you so nervous?”
“Don’t be like that, McKenzie. You know what’s making me nervous.”
“I really don’t.”
“What happened to Patrick Tarpley—I don’t know anything about it. Anyone asks, that’s what I’ll say. You have to know that.”
“Tarpley? Sweetie, what makes you think I’m interested in Tarpley?”
Jenny gave me a puzzled look that wandered around the room before coming back to me. “Wait, wait a minute.” She covered her face with both hands. When she uncovered them, she had a thoughtful expression on her face. “Let me think.” She turned in her chair to look out the window. While she did that, the waiter reappeared. I ordered another round. He delivered it, and I sucked on the Seven and Seven until Jenny decided to start speaking again. She was excited. I knew because of the way she spoke in short, quick bursts as if she were conserving her breath.
“Patrick Tarpley,” she said. “You didn’t—you didn’t kill him. Did you?”
“No. Of course not. What would make you even think such a thing?”
“Oh God, McKenzie. Oh God. I am so relieved. I thought…” She started to chuckle. “I thought you came here—I’m not sure what I thought.”
“Jennifer, please, tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re serious now. You’re using my full name, so I know. McKenzie, why did you come here? Why did you want to meet me?”
“I needed to ask you a question, although I think I might have part of the answer already.”
“What question?”
“I’m sure you remember a couple of years ago I did you a favor.”
“I remember.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about that? About what happened?”
“No. Well, yes. I mean … I’m not stupid, McKenzie. If my husband ever found out…”
“But you told someone.”
“I did,” she said. “You know that. At least I thought you did. Are you saying she never called you? She never got in touch?”
“Who?”
“Von Tarpley.”
“Patrick Tarpley’s wife? How do you know her?”
“We met through the City of Lakes Art Museum. We’re members of the board of trustees, my husband and I.”
“When did you meet?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Just before the museum opened.”
“You gave her my name?”
“A few weeks ago. She was in trouble,” Jenny added. “She needed help. I told her—if it’s broken, you can fix it. I said, ‘McKenzie can fix anything.’”
“Fix what exactly?”
“That’s where it gets a little complicated. You see, I saw Von kissing a man who was not her husband a month or so ago. It was at one of those exhibit openings at the museum. It was an accident. I walked in on her, saw what I saw, turned around, and walked away. Either she or her lover must have seen me, because twenty minutes later Von sidled up to me in the buffet line and said, ‘Please.’ No explanations, no excuses, no anything, just ‘Please.’ I never said anything to anyone, McKenzie. I never had any intention of doing so. I’m not a gossip. That’s not because I’m virtuous. It’s just that I’ve never been very curious about other people’s lives. I have enough problems of my own to keep myself occupied. Anyway, because I never tattled on her, I guess Von decided she could confide in me. A couple of weeks ago she told me she was sure her husband was cheating on her with someone at the museum.”