AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Calling her was not an option. According to the file, Tiffany had a taping device attached to the phone at the office which recorded all of her incoming and outgoing calls. Did she have such a system in her home as well? I couldn’t take that chance. It was clear that I’d have to pay Miss Nixon a visit.
She usually worked until six and it would be dusk before she reached her block. I wore a black sweat suit and sneakers. I put my money in my bra and my keys in my pocket. It was important to be able to run away if Tiffany sounded the alarm. Unless I was caught on her doorstep, it was a case of my word against hers. I wrote a long letter to Elaine, telling her where I was going and why, and dropped it in the mail on my way to the subway.
At seven, Tiffany Nixon turned the corner onto 71st Street. I was standing down a short flight of steps in front of a store that sold books on theater and film when she passed. I recognized her from the picture that always appeared at the top of her newspaper column.
Tiffany was about five feet-eight and weighed roughly 200 pounds. Her reddish-brown hair was thinly cornrowed and there were silver beads at the end of each one. She was wearing a multicolored peasant dress which swirled around her ankles, showing off a pair of silver sandals.
In spite of her considerable bulk, she was an attractive woman who walked like a dancer.
I slipped from my hiding place and walked behind her until she crossed the street. Then I fell into lockstep beside her.
“Your column last year on Jesse Jackson was very interesting,” I said without looking directly at her.
“Which one, honey? I do a lot of Jesse.” Her voice was tired as though she’d had a hard day.
“The one on his speech at the University of Michigan. The topic was ‘America Must Leave No One Behind: A Celebration of Diversity.’ ”
She kept walking. “Thanks, but I don’t really remember it.”
I jogged along beside her. “It’s the one where you described sitting in the Hill Auditorium on that campus listening to Jesse drone on about the merits of affirmative action and how the place was packed so tightly that you could barely breathe.”
She stopped walking. I stopped jogging.
“The one where you talked to several students after his speech was over and reported on what they had to say,” I concluded.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Someone who knows that you were nowhere near the University of Michigan the day Jesse gave that speech. You had a big fight with your sister, Oona, the night before. The two of you continued arguing the next morning and you were late leaving her house because of it. You missed your flight to Michigan, Miss Nixon.”
Tiffany Nixon didn’t move. My head was down, eyes gazing at her sandaled feet.
The feet moved toward me. I backed up.
“Who the fuck are you?” she snarled. “And what do you want?”
I looked up and saw that she was coming straight at me. I stood still and let her punch me right in the mouth.
She shook me by the shoulders. “I’m going to ask you one more time . . .”
A white woman rushed up to us, dragging her poor little dog on its leash. “I saw you hit this woman, now let go of her.”
Tiffany blinked and released me.
My lip was cut. I wiped my hand across it and saw blood. “Miss, could you be a witness to first-degree assault if I need you?”
The woman didn’t hesitate. “Yes. My name is Josephine Harris.”
My mouth felt like it was on fire. “Thank you.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. This woman won’t hit me again.”
She gave Tiffany a nasty look, mumbled something about New York going to hell in a handbasket, and walked on with her dog. I was just thinking that I’d forgotten to get the stranger’s address when Tiffany spoke.
“Look, I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to kick her ass. “My name is Jacqueline Blue.”
