She paced the floor, wringing her hands as she spoke a mile a minute.
“Naomi is a mess,” she said, almost to herself. “The managers are both in a dither, and there’s Ned. He’s an odd Thomas, isn’t he? Well, I just hope nobody expects me to pick up the slack. I’m one step removed from a basket case at the best of times.”
“Alice,” I interrupted, amused despite the fact that I had the same concerns, “things will work out. Nobody expects you to grab the helm. Everyone here needs time to grieve and regroup.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “You know what, Brooklyn? I think I should grab the helm. Now is not the time to shrink back, but to move forward. Now is the time to hit the ground running, to ask ourselves, What would Layla do?”
She began to march back and forth, a little soldier now, shaking her fist with firm resolve. “I can’t give in to the fear. We have a festival to get off the ground. And next month, the print arts program will be launching a new book. There’s already publicity out on that and we’ve got a huge party at the end of the month. No, Layla would want us to proceed full steam ahead. There’s no time for lollygagging, no time indeed.”
Maybe she was channeling Layla, but whatever she was doing, I was glad to see she wasn’t crying or rubbing her stomach anymore. Maybe her taking charge was a good thing, just the diversion she needed to take her mind off her friend’s sudden death.
On impulse, I said, “Alice, I’m having a girls’ night at my place tomorrow night. There’s just a few of us, dinner, drinks, some laughs. Would you like to come?”
Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Is that a yes?” I said after a moment.
“You . . . you’re inviting me over to your house? To meet your friends?”
“Yeah. You want to come?”
She sniffled. “I would be so honored. Thank you.”
“We’re just talking pizza and cheap wine here.”
“It sounds wonderful,” she whispered. “I’ve hardly met anyone since I moved here and I don’t get out much, so you’ve got to excuse me if I’m overcome with emotion.”
I laughed. “Okay, good. I’ll write down the directions.”
The door swung open and Inspector Nathan Jaglom walked in. I smiled, happy to see the homicide detective who had investigated the murder of Abraham Karastovsky less than two months before. Was it perverse to feel as if I were greeting an old friend?
“Inspector Jaglom, hello,” I said, hopping down from the chair and walking over to shake his hand. “Do you remember me?”
“Ms. Wainwright,” Jaglom said with a broad grin. “Of course, how could I forget you? Are you involved in this?”
“Only peripherally, I promise you.” I waved my hands a little too frantically. “I was teaching a class when we heard the gunshot. I’ve got more than ten witnesses that will back me up.”
“Good.” He looked relieved, but not half as relieved as I was.
“Everyone in my class is a witness for each other, as well,” I hastened to add. “We were all working when the gunshot was fired.”
“Okay, that’s good. We’ll need a few minutes with each person, ask a few questions, check their IDs and contact info. Then you should all be free to go home.”
“Okay, sounds fair.” I noticed Alice then. “Inspector, this is one of my students, who’s also the center’s assistant director. Alice Fairchild.”
He nodded. “Ms. Fairchild.”
“How do you do?” she said, her voice barely registering. She gave me a questioning look.
“I met Inspector Jaglom recently,” I explained, “when he worked on a case where a friend of mine was killed.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She touched my shoulder in sympathy, then whispered, “I’m just going to wait in the gallery.”
After she left the room, Jaglom browsed the front counter. Holding up one of my journals, he said, “Is this the kind of stuff you’re teaching?”
“Yes. It’s a bookbinding class.”
“Looks good,” he said, then smiled kindly. “So, how are you getting along these days?”
“I’m doing pretty well, thanks.” I knew he was asking how I was dealing with Abraham’s death. “Really, fine.”
“Good.” He turned as the door opened and Detective Inspector Janice Lee entered. “Hey, Lee.”
“Sorry I’m late,”Lee said,then saw me.“Brooklyn Wainwright. Why am I not surprised?”
“She’s got witnesses this time,” Jaglom said, and chuckled. I was so happy to provide amusement for local law enforcement.
“Listen,” Lee said. “We’ve got two classrooms available for interviews. You want to take this room or the other one?”
He looked around, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Minka LaBoeuf is teaching in the other classroom,” I said helpfully.
“I’ll take this room,” Lee said immediately.
Jaglom grimaced. “Great. See you later, Ms. Wainwright.”