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“What about the back door? That was left unguarded.”
“I had the house wired,” Jeanne Ellen said. “I knew you were in there.”
“The house was wired, but you still couldn't find Evelyn?”
“Evelyn's location was never mentioned. You blew the whistle on me before I had a chance to follow Dotty
to Evelyn.”
“And what about Soder? The scene in the bookstore and at Dotty's house?”
“Soder was a fool. He thought he could bully Dotty into talking.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
Jeanne Ellen shrugged. “Professional courtesy.”
I looked beyond her to Sebring. “Do you have an ongoing interest in this?”
“Not unless Soder comes back from the dead.”
“What's your opinion? Do you think Annie's in danger?”
“Someone killed her father,” Sebring said. “That's not a good sign. Unless, of course, it was Annie's mom who hired the hit. Then everything works out roses.”
“Do either of you know how Eddie Abruzzi fits into this puzzle?”
“He owned Soder's bar,” Jeanne Ellen said. “And Soder was afraid of him. If Annie actually was in danger, I thought the threat might be tied to Abruzzi. Nothing concrete, just a feeling I had.”
“I hear you found Soder sitting on your couch,” Sebring said to me. “Do you know what that means?”
“My couch has death cooties?”
Sebring smiled and his teeth almost blinded me. “You can't wash away death cooties,” he said. “Once they're on your couch, they're there to stay.”
I left the office on that cheery note. I got into my car, and I took a moment to process the new information. What did it mean? It didn't mean much. It reinforced my fear that Evelyn and Annie were running, not just from Soder, but from Abruzzi, as well.
Valerie called again. “If I go out to lunch with Albert, would it be a date?”
“Only if he rips your clothes off.”
I hung up and put the car in gear. I was going back to the Burg, and I was going to talk to Dotty's mom. She was the only connection I had to Evelyn. If Dotty's mom said Dotty and Evelyn were peachy fine and coming home, I'd feel like I was off the hook. I'd go to the mall and get a manicure.
MRS. PALOWSKI OPENED her front door and gasped at seeing me on her porch. “Oh dear,” she said. As if the death couch cooties were contagious.
I sent her a reassuring smile and a little finger wave. “Hi. I hope I'm not imposing.”
“Not at all, dear. I heard about Steven Soder. I don't know what to think.”
“Me, either,” I said. “I don't know why he was put on my couch.” I did a grimace. “Go figure. At least he wasn't killed there. They packed him in.” Even as I said it, I knew it was lame. Leaving a sawed-in-half corpse on a girl's couch is rarely a random act. “The thing is, Mrs. Palowski, I really do need to talk to Dotty. I was hoping she might have heard about Soder and gotten in touch with you.”
“As a matter of fact, she did. She called this morning, and I told her you were asking after her.”
“Did she say when she'd be home?”
“She said she might be gone a while. That was all she said.”
There goes the manicure.
