11th hour

Chapter 70

I was in desperate need of a laugh or, even better, a boxcar full of them.

I called an impromptu meeting of the Women’s Murder Club, and because it was only two blocks from the Hall, I convinced everyone to meet at MacBain’s Beers o’ the World Saloon.

An hour after sending up the flare, I climbed the wooden back steps to the small room with two tables and one window where Captain MacBain used to count out the day’s cash. Cindy and Claire had already made good progress on the first pitcher of beer, and Yuki had only about an inch left of her margarita.

I could have put down a pitcher of beer all by myself, but the little bundle I was carrying under my jacket had the majority vote and that vote was no to booze.

Claire pulled out a chair and patted the seat and I dropped into it.

Yuki flashed me a grin, said, “I was telling everyone about Brian McInerny.”

“The comedian? Go ahead, Yuki.”

“Okay, so he’s suing a transit worker for taking a punch at him. He deserved the punch, but anyway, I’m deposing him,” Yuki said. “McInerny wants to give answers as both himself and his alter ego.”

“I’ve seen his act,” Cindy said. “He has an imaginary twin.”

“Right,” Yuki said. “And it’s easier to let him do it than stop him. I’m asking him questions and he’s answering as himself and as his character. So crazy. We have it all on tape.”

I gave my order to the waitress, and Yuki continued her story.

“And you know, during a deposition, when someone needs a break, the videographer says, ‘All right, it’s eleven twenty-three and we’re going off the record.’ And then when you’re coming back on, the videographer says, ‘It’s eleven thirty-five and now we are back on the record.’

“So McInerny needs a lot of breaks. He doesn’t like the deli food we served, so he has to order lunch from his favorite restaurant. Then he has to have a conference with his imaginary twin. As if that weren’t enough to make us all crazy, now he’s got a new shtick.

“When we restart the camera, McInerny pretends that he’s in the middle of a conversation. The camera goes on and McInerny says to me, ‘That’s the filthiest joke I’ve ever heard in my life.’”

Yuki demonstrated the shocked look she got on her face; it was hysterical and we all laughed. Yuki said, “The second time we come back he looks directly at the videographer and says to her, ‘Are you hitting on me? Are you coming on to me?’

“Then, of course, we had to take a five-minute break because she was laughing so hard she was crying.”

One minute I was laughing at the story, but the next my mind must have wandered off, because I suddenly realized that the girls were staring at me.

Yuki in particular gave me an appraising eye.

“Something’s wrong, Lindsay. What is it?”

“I’m fine. It’s been a really long day, but I’m okay.”

“I know what you look like when you’re tired, Lindsay,” Yuki said. “This is different. You look like you’ve been running laps in hell.”

Cindy said, “Yuki’s right. Are you feeling sick? Are you coming down with something?”

The waitress brought over another pitcher of tap along with a bottle of Australian root beer and a frosty mug of ice, both of which she put down in front of me.

When her footsteps faded I said to my friends, “Joe is having an affair.”