“Shirley Dombrowski? Sebastian’s secretary? That Shirley? Lucy, are you insane?” asks Will. “She’s like the sweetest lady in the world. I have no idea what we’re doing here.”
Paco, who refused to let us leave the house without him, looks up at me like he’s in agreement. The three of us are at Shirley’s front door, waiting for her to answer the ringer.
“Even the sweetest lady in the world can be a little kinky. You should have seen her reaction when Jefferson Pike came out on that stage doing his Sean Connery imitation. She was like a giddy schoolgirl.” I ring the doorbell again.
“That doesn’t mean she’s a voyeur.”
“Maybe not. But that’s her earring I found outside of Betty Jean’s window, and I want to know how it got there. We have thirteen hours left to figure out who killed Jefferson Pike, and I don’t intend to rest until we do.”
The porch lights come on and the door opens a crack. “Yes?” Shirley blinks in surprise. “Oh, Lucy, dear. It’s you. And Paco. And Will Cunningham?” She opens the door wide and ushers us into her living room. She’s wearing a robe, and her hair is in curlers. A crucifix hangs above the fireplace mantel.
“What are you all doing here? It’s almost eleven o’clock.” Her face pales. “Oh no. Don’t tell me something has happened to Father. Is Sebastian all right?” She pulls a set of rosary beads from the pocket of her robe and makes a sign of the cross.
Will gives me an I told you so look. “Sebastian is fine,” he says. “And we’re sorry to disturb you so late. Believe me, this wasn’t my idea.”
I cringe. Standing here seeing Shirley look so … Shirley-ish, I have to admit I might have overreacted. But like I told Will, I’m determined to find out what happened. “I’m sorry we alarmed you, but it’s important we talk to you tonight.”
“Shall I make tea?” she asks, clearly still confused over our presence.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. We jus
t have a few questions, and then we’ll leave.” I pull the earring from my purse and hand it to her. “I think this is yours.”
She recognizes it and chuckles. “It’s my earring! Where did you find it? I’ve been looking for it ever since … ” She stops cold. “Oh dear.”
“I found it the night Jefferson Pike was murdered. Right outside Betty Jean’s bedroom window. Do you want to tell us what you were doing there?”
She covers her face with her hands. “I’m so ashamed. Please don’t tell Father McGuffin. I don’t think I could ever look him in the eye again if he knew what I did.”
Oh boy. This doesn’t sound good at all. Surely, the court will go easy on her, what with her age and the fact that she probably has a spotless record.
“It’s okay, Shirley. Just tell us what happened,” I urge gently.
“That day, after you came by the rectory, I tried to finish my work, but I was just so excited about the book club meeting and the chance to speak to J.W.—well, he wasn’t J.W. Quicksilver, was he? I was so excited, I wasn’t thinking rationally. I left early, around four thirty, instead of my usual five. To see if Betty Jean needed any help with the refreshments,” she adds, wringing her hands together.
“What happened then?”
“I got to her house and rang the doorbell, but no one answered.”
“So you went around to the back?”
“Her car was in the driveway, and there was this awful music blaring, so I knew she had to be inside. I knocked on the back door too, but there was still no answer, so I became terribly worried.”
“Worried enough that you tried to peek through the windows?”
Shirley catches the skepticism in my tone. “Young lady, when a woman gets to be a certain age and she lives alone, she appreciates anyone who cares enough to snoop inside and make sure that she’s all right.”
My cheeks go warm. I’ve just been deservedly chastised by the secretary of St. Perpetua’s Catholic Church. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course.”
“Imagine my shock when I saw Betty Jean was … was … ”
“Discovering what was beneath Jefferson Pike’s kilt?”
“Exactly. Once I was satisfied that Betty Jean wasn’t lying on the floor with a broken hip, I immediately left her house. After that, I had no intention of returning for the book club meeting. I didn’t find out about the murder until the next morning.”
“And that’s it?”
“What else is there?”