The Day of the Jack Russell (Mystery Man) (31 page)

He kept walking. He may not have seen it. He definitely didn’t see Jeff’s Black Power salute.

Alison said, ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish.’

‘He’s not that bad,’ I said.

‘I’m glad you think so. Now get on the phone to Interflora and send Pat some flowers.’

I smiled.

She did not.

‘No way,’ I said.

‘Yes way. Or else you take them round yourself. I’m serious, you owe her. Just do it. Make me even prouder of you.’

She had a way of saying things. I sighed. She took that as affirmative.

‘Good. I’m going to Starbucks. Where are you on the menu?’

I told her
precisely
. She said she’d be back in ten minutes, and she expected the flowers to have been ordered by then.

When she’d gone, Jeff said he was going to get a burger from Springsteens next door and did I want anything. I shook my head. I had Vitolink. Besides, I was too busy watching Alison walk away. She was beautiful and she was carrying my baby, or at least someone’s. But she was mine. And always would be.

Jeff went out, leaving me alone in No Alibis.

I love it here. It’s where I feel most at home, with my books and their patterns. I will fight tooth and nail to keep it open. Books are important. Books are not beans. We stand against the tide, and pray.

I was happy, after a fashion. Although for the first time I had not correctly unmasked the killer, I had no doubt that I would have eventually. I had allowed myself to get hung up on one particular piece of evidence and its destruction, instead of taking it in my stride and approaching the case from a different angle. It was an important lesson to learn, and it would serve me well on future investigations, if I lived long enough.

I mixed up the Vitolink, opened a Twix, and sat behind my precious counter. When I felt suitably refreshed, I called Interflora and ordered a cheap bunch of flowers. I paid by credit card and gave them the address and the woman asked me if I had anything to say, and I said, ‘Thank you?’

‘I mean, on the card. With the flowers.’

‘Oh, right. Ahm. Okay. Write: SORRY YOUR BOYFRIEND’S DEAD.’

I could already see Alison coming back, coffees in hand. She wasn’t really fat. I loved her. She was smiling to herself.

‘Is that it?’

It is important to retain one’s sense of humour at times of stress and sadness.

‘No. Add: LOOKS LIKE YOU GOT AWAY WITH IT.’

The woman sighed. ‘Is
that
it?’

‘No, could you add one of those winky faces?’

So she did.