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“Keith went with me. You should have seen Detective Gilchrist’s face when I walked in with him. The man practically genuflected.”
Paul chuckled.
“He walked me through the morning Annabelle was killed. Then I wrote it all down and left.”
“So what happens now?”
“Keith is releasing the videotape to some reporter friend of his tomorrow.”
“Best offense is a good defense, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“I know you are upset right now, Jackie, but there is something I want to ask you when things settle down.”
Oh no! I knew what the something was. He had been waiting to ask it for a long time.
“Today has been rough, Paul. I can feel my brain shutting down.”
“I’m glad everything turned out okay, Jackie. I was worried.”
I yawned. “I’ve got to call Mama and then get some sleep.”
“Okay. Will you be home tomorrow?”
“No, I’m going to spend the day with Mama. She is still pretty frazzled about this whole thing. I need to reassure her that its almost over.”
“Alyssa came to the Black Pack meeting tonight. She told us that you signed her up for a few projects.”
“That’s right.”
“Maybe you should have waited to see what the fallout will be for her.”
In other words, wait until Alyssa got back on the white folks’ good side before hugging her to our collective bosom again. It was some sad, gutless plantation-type thinking and I didn’t want to talk about it.
I changed the subject and tried to sound casual. “Who else showed up tonight?”
“Yes, Victor was there,” Paul said brusquely.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Whatever,” he snapped.
“Good night, Paul,” I said softly, “and thanks for Keith.”
“Don’t mention it.” He hung up.
I hadn’t told Paul about the insulting e-mail that Victor had sent me. Maybe it was because I was ashamed of being treated so badly. Or maybe I was afraid he’d say that I deserved it for throwing myself at Victor again.
In any case, with the detective coming to my office, riding downtown in the back of Keith Williams’s limousine and the videotape, which would probably be aired Monday morning, I’d have quite a story to tell at Black Pack next week.
Maybe I could embellish it a little and make Victor believe that Keith Williams was romantically interested in me. That would make him kick his girlfriend and her pretty new underwear straight to the curb.
14
DUST
By Sunday night, I was running across Mama’s television screen with my braids flying behind me as I glanced anxiously at my watch and shoved the appointment book into my bulging tote bag at the same time. The doorman watched my hasty exit from the building in open-mouthed surprise and the tape ended in a flurry of static. The scene changed and Keith Williams was standing in front of The Dakota apartment building, surrounded by strobe lights and microphones.
