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Chapters (37)
  1. Dead Beat
  2. Dedication:
  3. Acknowledgments
  4. 1992–Part One
  5. Chapter   1
  6. Chapter   2
  7. Chapter   3
  8. Chapter   4
  9. Chapter   5
  10. Chapter   6
  11. Chapter   7
  12. Chapter   8
  13. Chapter   9
  14. Chapter   10
  15. Chapter   11
  16. Chapter   12
  17. Part Two
  18. Chapter   13
  19. Chapter   14
  20. Chapter   15
  21. Chapter   16
  22. Chapter   17
  23. Chapter   18
  24. Chapter   19
  25. Chapter   20
  26. Chapter   21
  27. Chapter   22
  28. Chapter   23
  29. Chapter   24
  30. Chapter   25
  31. Chapter   26
  32. Chapter   27
  33. Chapter   28
  34. Chapter   29
  35. Chapter   30
  36. Chapter   31
  37. About the Author

Gloria shrugged. “She’d done it a couple of times.”

“And did she know you were a diabetic?” I asked.

“There’s no secret about it. She never actually discussed it with me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

The next question was obvious, though I knew she wouldn’t like it. That was just tough luck. “Who else comes into your room either regularly or occasionally?” I demanded.

I was right. “Just what are you trying to suggest?” Gloria flashed back, outraged.

“I’m not trying to suggest anything. I asked a straightforward question, and I’d appreciate a straightforward answer.”

Gloria pointedly turned away from my stare. “No one uses my room except me,” she mumbled. “Moira was the only person apart from the cleaner who’s been in there.”

I took pity on her. I couldn’t see being madly in love with Jett as an emotionally rewarding pastime, and I didn’t want to rub in the fruitlessness of her passion. “Given that it wasn’t a drug overdose that killed her, have you any ideas about who might have wanted rid of Moira?”

“How should I know?” Gloria snapped.

“I would have thought there was no one better placed to have a few theories,” I replied. “You’re right at the nerve center of the household. You’re in Jett’s confidence. I can’t imagine there’s much goes on around here that you don’t know about.” When in doubt, flatter.

Gloria rose to the bait. “If I had to choose one person, I’d pick Tamar,” she bitched right back at me. “If Jett wasn’t such a nice guy, she’d have been out of here weeks ago. They’ve been rowing for ages, and when Moira arrived, Tamar’s nose was put right out of joint. Jett needs a woman who understands him, who really appreciates how demanding his work is. But Tamar just wants to

It was a long speech for Gloria, and her efforts to make it sound objective rather than vitriolic would have been funny under any other circumstances. I nodded sagely, and said, “I see what you mean. But do you really think she’s capable of a crime of violence like that?”

“She’s capable of anything,” Gloria retorted. “She saw her position under threat, and I think she acted on the spur of the moment to protect herself.”

“What about the others? Micky? Kevin?” I inquired.