'Lowell… Lowell…' I couldn't for the life of me then remember any Lowell but I also didn't remember any murders, or murderers.
'Mother, his lawyer has been trying to catch up with you. So he says. I gave him the name of your lecture bureau so they could give him your itinerary. I figured if you were involved, you'd better know and if you weren't, you could sue for libel, or something. Only the lawyer has been phoning me saying he keeps leaving messages only you don't answer them. Are you trying to evade him?'
I was still fumbling for the name Lowell.
'What's the lawyer's name?' That might give me a clue. 'Jefferson, Marshall amp; Taggert is the firm. Peter Taggert the particular man. Mom, are you sure you're all right?'
'I'm tired, very tired, Timmy. I'm so tired I don't even remember if I've given my talks in Tulsa or I have them to do. What's today's date, please?'
'It's the 10th of April, Mom, and you were to speak in Tulsa on the 8th and 9th. Mom, are you sure you're all right?' Tim's voice now had the 'small boy in search of security' tone.
'Yes, Tim. I'm just talked out, travelled out and de-synced. You woke me out of a sound sleep. You know how I am just waking up.'
'Yeah…' He sounded somewhat reassured.
'So, this Peter Taggert believes I can help his client, a Daniel… Dan!'
'You do know him?' My admission startled Tim more than my bleary state of mind.
'Denver Dan-the-man. Yes, I know Dan, and he isn't a murderer. I don't see how he could have murdered anyone… I mean. When? Who? Why?'
'I don't know many details, mother, except that it happened in Denver… Is he that swimming-hiking freak you wrote me about?' Tim wasn't certain that these were sufficient bona fides. 'Haven't you seen the papers?'
'Papers! I've been on tour. I'm lucky I get to read menus.'
'He's supposed… alleged is the word they use… alleged to have killed his former wife on Thursday, March 20. She wasn't found for two days because of the snow but he's supposed to have killed her approximately 11 PM Thursday evening.'
As Tim talked, I had been thumbing through my diary. Thursday was the last evening we had spent together… and at 11 PM we'd been watching Gunga Din… No, we hadn't. We'd been making love. But that was irrelevant to the fact that Dan Lowell had been most decidedly in my company the entire evening.
'He was with me all Thursday evening, Tim. What do I do now?'
'I suggest that you call the legal man. He said he'd been trying to reach you. He's phoned me three times because you're the only proof his client didn't murder the woman. Plenty of circumstantial evidence to prove that he could have.'
'He couldn't have and he wouldn't have. He's not that kind of guy.'
'Call the man.' There was relief in Tim's voice for my positive statement. 'When will I see you?'
'I'd planned to fly back tomorrow but now…'
'You'd better let justice triumph. Mom. I'll see ya when I see ya!'
It was ten-thirty Rocky Mountain time. As I dialled the number Tim had given me, I recalled receiving message slips at the last two hotels. They hadn't made any sense to me at the time. I had stuffed them in my case and sure enough, they were all from a Peter Taggert, and they informed me, classically, that it was a matter of life and death.
'My name is… Jenny Lovell,' I told Taggert's receptionist in Denver. 'I believe Peter Taggert wants to get in touch with me.'
'Miss Lovell? Just a mo… Mrs. Lovell?' The girl reacted violently. 'He is, but he isn't here. Oh, he's in court with Mr. Lowell. Oh, where are you, please? Babs,' this was said to someone at her end, 'she's calling in. It's her. Hold on, Mrs. Lovell, for Mr. Taggert's secretary.'
'Mrs. Lovell? Where are you calling from, please?' The second girl was more in command of herself but I could hear the undercurrent of excitement and relief in her tone.
'Right now I'm in Tulsa but I can be in Denver as soon as I can get a plane. Will that help?'
'Yes, it will. Your presence here is urgently needed.'
'Look, I'm terribly, terribly sorry I didn't call earlier. My son just rang me. I haven't read any newspapers in days. You're sort of in a limbo when you're touring. If I'd known… I mean, Dan Lowell wouldn't kill anyone. I've never heard of anything so outrageous. My son said that he's supposed to have killed his former wife at 11 on Thursday evening and you tell Mr. Taggert I know he didn't. He was with me the entire evening. Things haven't gone too far, have they?'
'Just come to Denver, Mrs. Lovell. Your testimony is vitally needed.'
'I'll be on the next plane. And look, would you tell Mr. Lowell that… Gunga Din is bringing the water?'
'I beg your pardon?'
I repeated my remark which then didn't sound too witty but Dan would appreciate the reference and I couldn't think of anything else that didn't sound trite and insincere.
'There must be a plane out of here for Denver sometime today, and I'll be on it. Be sure of that. Okay?'
She asked for and I gave her the present Tulsa number but as soon as I disconnected that call, I got the flight reservations desk. I had missed a morning flight from Tulsa but I could book on the 2 PM. I packed in a flap, remembering to cash one of the lecture checks where I was known. At that, I had to get a bit huffy with the manager because he wouldn't believe that I didn't have any credit cards apart from my Allied Irish Bank cheque-cashing ident. I had to ask him, in my most acid tones, didn't he think the University's checks were any good so he demurred and grudgingly handed over the money. I noticed he used dirty bills and small ones so I had an unwieldy wad. Then I over-tipped the bellboy and doorman as I got in the cab for the airport.
There was no trouble in altering my ticket to include a stopover in Denver but I had two hours to wait until I could board the plane: plenty of time to stew. I found a Denver paper at the newsstand but there was no follow-up yarn about the murder: no mention of it at all.
Had Tim had the facts straight? Thursday? I riffled through the diary. Most of Dan's time those three days had been spent in my company, except for a few brief hours, especially that Thursday evening. He'd been with Hearty-har-har when he hadn't been with me. Had Tim said 11 PM? Dan was covered as far as the AM was concerned, too, because… yes… we were swimming at 10 AM Thursday. Of course, he could have nipped out after I'd gone to sleep Thursday evening late, or was it by then Friday morning… but how far away had his ex-wife lived?
Dan had been worried about something. Worried? Anxious? Annoyed? Betrayed? Yes, that had been the elusive quality about his mood that evening: he'd been angry and felt betrayed. By his former wife?
I shook my head. This line of thought was unproductive. And disturbing. I had too few facts beyond the major one: Dan had been in my company most of those snow-bound days, his time accounted for when he wasn't. Besides which, he wasn't a murderer.
I recognised that anyone can be pushed to the point of murder. But Dan had not acted like a driven or trapped man, unless he was far more a dissembler than I could give him credit for. And, he'd had two tickets in the airport that afternoon. Furthermore, at lunch he had definitely acted relieved, as if he'd solved his problem. Solved his problem by escaping the scene of the crime? No, no. He'd been with me at the reported time of the murder!
I killed (whoops…) passed some time eating a good lunch in the airport restaurant, complete with a half bottle of wine for its soothing quality. Anger is a good therapy and I was angry on many counts: angry at Tim's being involved at all in this; angry at myself for not having appreciated the genuine urgency in the messages from Taggert; angry at the unknown murderer who had involved Dan, me, and Tim in such a ghastly affair. Angry because my very lovely brief encounter was now besmirched.