I saw that several samples of blood, bone, and shoe leather were collected before my gory Woolworth’s area rug was rolled up and removed, and then I watched while the bullet was pried out of the floor. (Luckily, it hadn’t blasted all the way through Luigi’s ceiling. Otherwise, the fish odor would have had a direct duct to my living room.)
After all the work was done, and all the officers and evidence collectors were gone, Dan left to “take care of business” at the hospital and the station house. Telling Abby and Jimmy to take good care of me, he gave me a parting soul kiss and said he’d be back later.
As soon as he split, I walked across the bare wood floor to the couch and picked up the phone. I couldn’t put it off any longer-I had to call Sabrina. Although I was busting to tell her that Dan had arrested Corona for the murder of Virginia, I really did not want to tell her that Jocelyn had been killed. (I can’t bear to be the bearer of bad news.) I finally faced the music, though, and dialed her private number.
Our conversation was short and bittersweet. She already knew about Corona’s arrest (Detective O’Connor had leaked the news to Sabrina as well as to Hogarth), and she had learned about Jocelyn’s death from the manager of the Barbizon, whom she contacted after all her phone calls to Jocelyn had gone unanswered. She had tried to call me, too, she said, but my line had been busy for hours. (I knew this was true, since my receiver was off the hook from the moment I fell asleep and dropped it on the floor, until a few dreadful decades later, when I snatched it up to call for an ambulance.)
Sabrina didn’t know whether Jocelyn had drowned by accident or been murdered, but she wasn’t surprised when I gave her the lowdown. And she wasn’t shocked that the DA had done the dirty deed. She was shocked, however, that Hogarth had tried to kill me, and she felt so sad and guilty about it that I thought she’d never stop apologizing. When I told her how Hogarth had suffered for his sins, however, she felt a lot better. And when I described in detail how Otto and Jimmy had saved my life, she was euphoric. She was going to send Jimmy a cash reward, she said, and Otto a ten-year supply of dog biscuits.
When my phone call with Sabrina ended, the celebration began. And that’s when my brain and body really went on the blink. I have a fuzzy recollection of drinking glass after glass of Chianti, eating slice after slice of pepperoni pizza, smoking a jillion cigarettes, laughing my head off over nothing in particular, crying my eyes out over the tragic deaths of Virginia and Jocelyn, and rejoicing in the knowledge that Hogarth and Corona were, in one way or another, going to pay for their atrocious crimes.
I was also raving on and on about Dan’s and my engagement, clinking glasses with Abby and Jimmy in a never-ending series of silly toasts, and stroking Otto’s soft, warm, brave little back till it was almost bald.
Sometime around midnight (I think), Dan came back. He had a glass of wine and tried to join in the festivities, but he looked exhausted. Taking their cue from Dan’s tired eyes and sagging shoulders, Abby and Jimmy said good night and went across the hall. They would have taken Otto with them, but I had grown so attached to his sweet, protective presence, I wouldn’t let him go. I begged them to let Otto spend the night with me, and they cheerfully agreed.
As soon as they left, Dan guided me upstairs and helped me get undressed. (Well, I was sort of tipsy, you know! And it’s hard to take off your sweater when you’re cradling a dachshund in your arms and won’t, even for a minute, put him down.) Then, after Dan got Otto and me into the bed and tucked us in, he went back downstairs and slept on the couch, in his clothes. I guess he thought one guard dog wasn’t enough.
WHEN OTTO AND I GOT UP IN THE MORNING, Dan was already gone. He’d left a note on the kitchen table saying he was going to his own apartment to shower and change, then heading uptown to pick up his daughter, Katy, for our ritual Sunday lunch and afternoon movie. He said I should meet him and Katy at Schrafft’s at the usual time. I gave Otto a bowl of water and a leftover piece of pizza, and ran upstairs to get ready.
I was happy as a clam (or any other merry mollusk). I’d had a good night’s sleep and I felt almost sane. Corona was in jail, Hogarth was in the hospital, and I was engaged to be married! I took a long, hot shower, washed and dried my hair, slathered on some makeup, and put on my favorite slim gray skirt and pale blue sweater (Sears Roebuck, of course). I even put on a string of pearls (cultured, not real) and a dressy pair of black suede pumps (Thom McAn, $7.99). In spite of my low-cost attire, I thought I looked like a million bucks.
When I went next door to return Otto, Abby was sitting at her kitchen table in her red negligee, long black hair fanned out over her shoulders, drinking coffee, and smoking a Pall Mall. Jimmy was still sleeping upstairs. “Hey, babe,” she said when I stepped inside. “You’re looking pretty slick this morning. Pearls and pumps, no less. Just like a married lady.”
I let out a goofy giggle, walked over to the stove to pour myself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table with her. I had thought Abby was happy for me, but when I took a good look at her face, I saw I was mistaken. She had a sulk the size of Kentucky on her kisser.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much,” she said with an overly dramatic sigh. “I’m just losing my best friend, that’s all. She’s getting married and moving away, you dig? I’ll probably never see her again.” If her lips had been any poutier, they’d have been drooping down over her chin.
“That’s nuts!” I said, hurrying to reassure her. “I may be getting married, but I’m not moving away. No way, Doris Day! I like it here.” I really hadn’t given this matter much thought before, but now that I was, I felt a very strong desire to stay put. “Dan will move in with me!” I declared, hoping my words would turn out to be true. “I couldn’t live anywhere else but here. And we could fix the place up a lot-carpet the living room, buy a real couch, plant a garden in the courtyard. The apartment’s small, but it’s fine for two people… even three,” I added, thinking ahead, imagining how I could turn my office into a neat little nursery.
“Absolutely not, Dot!” Abby cried, pounding her fist like a gavel on the tabletop. “That’s a big fat no, Flo! I refuse to live next door to a screaming baby! I think you and Dan better move to Levittown.” It was obvious that she was joking. Her sulk had turned into a smile so wide you could slide a ruler through it sideways.
Crisis over, we laughed and chatted together for a while, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, feeling good about the future. Then it was time for me to go. “Gotta split, Ab,” I said, standing up and walking to the door. “I’m meeting Dan and Katy uptown for lunch.”
“Later, gator,” she chirped, tying her hair up in a pony and waving bye-bye with the tail.
The minute I got back to my place the phone started ringing.
Thinking it was Dan calling to make sure I got his note and would be leaving on time, I picked up the receiver and cooed, “Don’t worry, baby cakes. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“No rush,” Mr. Crockett said. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.”
“Huh?” I was a tad confused.
“Tomorrow is Monday,” Crockett grunted. “Be in the office at the usual time. Sort the mail, clip the papers, make the coffee.”
I finally got the message. “You mean I haven’t been fired? I’ve still got a job?”
“Right. Harrington wants you to come back to work. And he wants to see you in his office tomorrow at eleven.”
I was too stunned to speak. What was this all about? Did Harrington want to apologize for the way he kicked me out before, or did he just want to do it again?