“Answer the damn questions,” she breathed in my ear. “Or it looks like you have something to hide.”
And then she swung away.
I did have something to hide. I had a whole family tree of criminals and rogues that needed burying. But I grit my teeth, and stayed. “Yes, it has been ten years since I’ve seen my mother. We are not in contact. And I have no idea where the ruby is.”
“You were her alibi in the breaking and entering case,” Jim said. “The charges against her were dismissed on the basis of your testimony.”
“What is your question?” I asked, knowing in my stomach what the question was going to be.
“No question,” Jim said, and I nearly sighed in relief. “Just getting my facts straight.”
So you can come at me later. I had no illusions that Jim Blackwell was just here to get his facts straight. Jim Blackwell was throwing down a gauntlet, right here in front of me, Mrs. Vogler, and the kid with a mouthful of chocolate-chip cookies in the back.
Well, good luck to him. Jim Blackwell was starting a fight, and I loved a fight.
“I feel it’s necessary to remind you of my law degree from Old Miss,” I said. “I understand the legalities of libel better than the previous administration, and I would say after your last article about my family, you are skating on thin ice.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. O’Neill?”
“Just helping you get your facts straight, Mr. Blackwell.” I glanced over at Amanda, whose smile was sharp, approving. Apparently I’d handled that right. Score one for the Notorious O’Neills.
“We’re done here,” I said and stepped away from the podium toward Amanda, who had pulled out her phone and was, no doubt, already on damage control.
“Your father is giving me heartburn,” she muttered, shooting me one poisonous look. “And now I’ve got to look out for your mother?”
“No one has any idea where my mother is,” I said. “She’s a nonissue.”
“Excuse me!” a woman cried, and I knew, just knew it was elf girl, and I just wasn’t up for more questions.
It was bad politics, bad human, even, I knew that, but I pretended not to hear her.
“Wait a second!” she yelled, her voice sharper. I reluctantly turned.
The elf had gotten on a chair. Great.
She was lovely, actually. Her long, shapeless coat had some kind of wild embroidery on it, and her short, ink-black hair sparkled in the light coming through the dirty windows.
A pixie.
She slowly pushed back her long coat to reveal the swell of a very pregnant belly.
Maybe it was the way this day had been going; maybe it was the bloodthirsty toddlers, but some warning system in my head went: uh-oh.
“Where have you been for the last five months?” the elf asked, her eyes snapping. Her hands cupped her belly, and Mrs. Vogler sat down like a stone.
“Oh,” she sighed. “You’re a bad, bad man.”
The whispers started immediately.
Jim Blackwell lifted his cell phone and snapped a shot of the pregnant elf on the chair.
“Oh, crap,” Amanda said.
“I’ve never seen this woman in my life,” I said to Amanda and to the crowd.
Elf girl shook her head and got off the chair. “I knew you’d say that,” she whispered, convincingly heartbroken.
Thank God, the little liar started to walk away.
“You need to go after her,” Amanda furiously whispered in my ear.
“Are you nuts?”
Amanda pointed to Jim Blackwell, who was writing everything down. “Get to the bottom of it, before he does,” she said. “We can’t let that guy get the drop on us any more than he has.”
Amanda was right. I pushed my notes into her hand, and she immediately stepped forward and began spinning the situation, but it was like waving a tissue in front of a bull. I felt every eye, especially Jim Blackwell’s, on my back as I approached the girl.
I caught up with her at the front door and put one hand under her elbow. Carefully, so it didn’t look as if I was manhandling her, I spun her around and led her back around toward the pool, and the second exit onto an alley, where things would be less busy.
“I’m sorry,” she said right away, her voice breathy. “Really, really sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“About what?” I snapped. “Ruining my career?”
“Getting your attention.”
“Really? Nothing but accusing a total stranger of leaving you knocked up and alone?”
“You just kept ignoring me. Which, may I say, was pretty rude. And talk about man-splaining to all those moms-”
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Don’t say one more word.”
“Okay,” she said quickly. “Right. I’ll shut up.” The silence lasted for all of ten seconds, in which I recognized the delicious smell coming off the woman. Ginger cookies. Weird. “Hey, sorry, I know I’m supposed to keep quiet, but could you just ease up on the grip?” she muttered. “And slow down—you’re like ten feet taller than me.”