I shake off my feeling of despondency. “No, it’s this … murder case.”
“So is it true? Did Quicksilver murder Pike??
??
“No,” I say firmly. “And please, if you hear any more rumors claiming that he did, I’d appreciate it if you’d nip those in the bud fast.”
“Sounds like this is personal,” she says.
“I just don’t like to see an innocent person railroaded for a crime they didn’t commit.”
“If J.W. didn’t kill Pike, who did?”
“Like I said, that’s what Will and I have been trying to figure out.”
“Maybe I can help,” she says. “Most likely I was the last person to see him alive. Besides the killer.”
Good idea. Why didn’t I think to ask Betty Jean before? Probably because I wasn’t sure she’d be honest with me. Considering what I think happened between her and Jefferson Pike.
“Are you sure you want to answer our questions?” I ask cautiously.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Okay, here goes.
“The book club meeting was scheduled for seven, but you said Jefferson Pike got there early to help set up. What time was that?”
“Around four thirty.”
Archie claims he and Anita left town at four fifteen. Which means after they left the beach house, Jefferson must have come straight over to Betty Jean’s.
“Archie Clements told me that Jefferson was scheduled to meet a potential mark at The Harbor House at five for drinks before coming over to the book club meeting. Obviously, he never made it. Do you know why?”
Betty Jean makes an oops face. “Because I was the person he was supposed to meet for drinks but I invited him to come over early to my place instead.”
“You’re writing a book too?” Will asks.
“Nah. I just said that to get his attention.”
Will fights back a smirk. That’s just so Betty Jean.
“Did Pike know that you had no intention of buying into his scheme?” I ask.
“He did once he got to my place.”
I can’t keep beating around the bush and keeping a straight face at the same time, so I’ll just come out with it. “Did the two of you sleep together?”
“No. But we did have sex. No sleeping involved.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment. “I thought after all those hot sex scenes he wrote in his books, he’d be a little bit more entertaining in the sack, but he was just your typical sixty-five-year-old.”
I don’t even want to know what that means.
I glance over to gauge Will’s reaction. His face is redder than a cherry.
“So, after the two of you, uh—”
“Knocked boots? I told him I needed to go to the grocery store to get more wine for the book club meeting. But that was just an excuse to get out of the house. We had a whole hour and half before the group showed up, and I wasn’t about to sit there and make small talk, you know?”
“But you did go to the Piggly Wiggly, right?”