Lee nodded back, then said, “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying there was no fight between you and Karastovsky that night?”
“That’s right. Absolutely right. No fight. We were talking and laughing; he was in a jovial mood and happy to see me. You can ask anyone-besides Minka.”
“And you’re saying Karastovsky fired her,” Jaglow said.
Hearing Jaglow say it aloud made me remember that Minka had her own motive for murder. Hadn’t I accused her of that when we first spoke in the basement hall the night of the murder? I rubbed my head. Days and conversations were getting blurred. The thing was, I seriously doubted Minka was capable or even competent enough to commit murder, but I was almost giddy with relief that the spotlight was off me. Now it was time to return the favor and kick Minka under the tires.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Minka had been hired by the Covington to work with Abraham on the Winslow collection. He fired her from the project within a week. Frankly, if it had been up to him, he never would’ve hired her in the first place.”
“You know this because?” Lee drawled.
“Because Abraham knew she was a hack, and he knew what she tried to do to me with that knife. He knew she brought problems with her wherever she went. Any job she works on never goes smoothly. She’s disruptive, a troublemaker, and besides her crappy attitude, she’s just not very good at the work.”
“But tell us how you really feel,” Lee murmured, and almost cracked a smile.
Jaglow nodded in amusement. “I hear that.” He looked back at me. “So you and the La Beef woman have some history and all, but what does she have to gain by lying about you?”
“For Minka, it would be for the sheer joy of watching me squirm.”
“That’s some serious stuff,” he said.
Lee was more philosophical. “Girls just want to have fun.”
I walked into the town hall alone after watching the inspectors drive off. I’d offered them both some takeaway goodies, but they declined. Too bad. Lee could use the calories.
I was gratified to see Derek still cornered by Mary Ellen Prescott. He looked utterly desperate. I knew Mary Ellen, so I felt his pain, but I flashed him a broad smile and he bared his teeth at me. I’d be sure to remind him later that karma was a bitch.
I was headed toward the kitchen when someone called my name.
“Brooklyn, my dear.”
I turned and saw Guru Bob walk toward me.
“Are you in a hurry, gracious?” he asked.
“Yes. Uh. No.” He always left me tongue-tied. What did you say to someone who’s supposed to be a highly evolved conscious being? I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but I knew he was incredibly intelligent and perceptive. He could talk anyone into doing anything. I’d grown up trying to stay under the Guru radar and I’d been fairly successful for years. Then, when I was fourteen, Abraham showed him a beautiful family Bible I’d restored. That gained his interest.
It had been Guru Bob’s suggestion that I go for the multiple degrees in library science and fine art, even though Abraham had thought it irrelevant. I’d always insisted to my parents that neither of their opinions mattered, but Guru Bob’s encouragement had helped move my parents to fully finance my college and postgrad schooling, so I was grateful for that.
“I saw you speaking with the police, dear,” he said.
Good to know someone had been aware of my situation out in the parking lot. The fact that it was Guru Bob caused my throat to go dry as sand. I reached for a water bottle from the nearby table, popped it open and took a long sip.
“You are distressed,” he said kindly.
“No, I am fine,” I said. “I am just very thirsty.”
Guru Bob never used contractions and I tended to imitate him whenever I spoke with him. Weird.
“Water is life-giving,” he said quietly as I drank.
He was a tall man with broad shoulders, but when he spoke with you, he would hunch over to appear less intimidating and more humble. He also spoke softly, believing his words would be better received than if he spoke louder. It worked. I definitely paid attention to him.
“The police upset you?” he asked.
“No, no,” I said. “They were just asking me about Abraham and some statements one of my, er, colleagues made.” Calling Minka a colleague left a bitter taste, but I didn’t want to have to explain the whole thing to Guru Bob.
“There is no need to explain,” he said, doing that creepy mind-reading thing he did sometimes.
I felt an urgent need to explain anyway. “It’s just that this woman lied to the police and I had to tell them the true story. She’s not really a colleague, Robson, she’s really a…” I sighed. I couldn’t say anything too negative to Guru Bob.
He touched my shoulder and I felt a tingle of energy.
“You are under a great deal of strain, gracious.”
Guru Bob called most people “gracious.” Mom said he liked to make them aware that they actually were full of grace. He was definitely a glass-half-full kind of guy.