“She’s talking to me,” I explained, “but she wants to talk to you.”
Perplexed, Savannah shook her head, but followed Inspector Lee, who got a few feet away, then whipped around and pointed her finger at me like it was a gun. She made a clicking sound as if she’d shot me. Then she laughed and walked on with Savannah.
“Funny lady,” I muttered.
“You seem to know her pretty well,” Kevin said, joining me.
We sat down at the nearest table. “Yeah, I know her. She’s kind of gung ho, but usually fair.”
“I hope so.” She gazed around the room. “It’s hard to believe this is all happening, you know? Do you remember that first night we were here? I thought this room was one of the most beautiful I’d ever seen.”
“I remember, and I thought the same thing.”
“Once this investigation is over, Brooklyn, I hope I never have to see it again.”
“You won’t,” I assured her. “But for now we’re sort of stuck.”
She sighed. “Seems we are.”
“How was your interview?”
“Oh, just dandy.” She rolled her eyes. “It only took a few minutes. Basically just a follow-up, since they already interviewed us earlier.”
“Earlier?” I couldn’t remember seeing the inspectors interviewing anyone. “When was that?”
“You weren’t here yet.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, and I didn’t have a chance to finish telling you. I was halfway through my story when I got so wretchedly sick to my stomach.”
“That’s right.” It was only a few minutes ago, so I was surprised I’d forgotten already. Although, considering everything else that was going on…“You look like you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She shook her head like a wet dog, as though she was trying to shake the memory out of her brain. “I absolutely hate getting sick like that. And in public, for all my lovely new street friends to see. I’m such a class act.”
“You couldn’t help it,” I said. “But tell me the rest of the story. What happened?”
“Right.” She leaned forward with her elbow on the table and spoke in a low voice. “We’d only just found poor Monty when those two homicide inspectors walked in.”
“They got here that fast? Did one of you call them?”
“No,” she whispered. “They claimed that Monty called them.”
“Wait. What?” I sat up in my chair. “Monty? But…when? How?”
“Frankly, Brooklyn, I don’t believe they meant to tell us as much as they did. I think they were so blown away at the sight of him lying there, dead, that they just blurted it out.”
I thought about it, tried to picture Inspector Lee walking in on that scene. “She’s usually tight-lipped as a clam, so it must’ve been a shock for her. What all did they say to you?”
“Just that Monty called them late last night and told them he knew who the killer was. But he couldn’t talk on the phone long. Apparently he asked them to meet him here at ten o’clock this morning and said he would tell them what he knew.”
“What he knew? But why didn’t he just tell them the name of the killer?” It was like a bad plotline from a B movie. “It doesn’t make sense.”
She shifted in her seat and her voice dropped even lower. “Margot thinks he wanted an audience for his big reveal. You know how he’s such a drama queen, right?”
“Well, yes, but the police don’t know that.” This didn’t make sense. Why would Monty put himself in the crosshairs, so to speak? If he had known the name of the killer, why not go to the police immediately and keep himself safe? And what about the police? “If they had someone calling in, claiming to have information critical to their investigation, why didn’t they just go to his hotel and question him?”
“If they’d done that, he’d be alive.” She contemplated that for a moment, then shook her head in disgust. “They probably thought he was a raving lunatic and didn’t want to encourage him.”
“That’s possible.” But knowing Inspector Lee as well as I did, I couldn’t believe it. She was a fanatic when it came to finding the truth. But wait a minute, I thought. Lee had brushed me off more than once when I’d pushed my theories on her. I hated to admit it, but she could be a little arrogant about civilian involvement in police matters.
Was that why she hadn’t moved on Monty’s information? Could she have assumed that because I was involved my friends would be irritants, too?
I wasn’t trying to blame myself, but if that was the reason why Inspector Lee didn’t follow up on Monty’s story, it was just sad. Monty might still be alive if they’d checked up on him. Even though, sorry to say, he probably had sounded like a drama queen.
On the other hand, we didn’t have all the facts. Maybe Monty hadn’t actually spoken with the homicide inspectors. Maybe he’d left a message with a dispatcher who wasn’t able to reach the people in charge of the case in time. It would be rushing to judgment to blame the police before I knew what had really happened.
Yet more answers I desperately needed.