Chapter Forty-Eight

It was after three in the morning when we hung up. And this old gal was too wound up to consider going back to sleep. I thought about calling Mitch so I could relay the incredible story I'd just been told. But since that's all it was, and there was no way it could be used by the police, I decided against waking him. It would be light out in a couple of hours. I'd wait until then. Until I knew he'd be getting up.

The next problem was how I was going to spend those hours that stretched in front of me. I headed downstairs to put on a fresh pot of coffee. The ankle had stiffened up on me the short time I'd spent in bed, but once I started moving around on it, it loosened up enough that I forgot about it for the time being. Or at least until I carried a fresh cup of coffee into the living room with me and saw the set of crutches propped up against the one end of the couch.

I'd put them away later. Maybe when the urge struck to run the vacuum cleaner through the room. But for right now, I was going to have a look at Friday and Saturday's newspapers.

I thought I was. The minute I spotted the little diary on the cushion next to me, the newspapers got tossed back on the coffee table. What did Angel want from Joe? She knew he wasn't her father. Why had she gone to the trouble of writing a book of fiction? The answers refused to come, and I was going crazy trying to force them.

I went back over parts of my telephone conversation with Betsy. I was sure she hadn't mentioned what Angel went on to do once she was released from the detention center. She probably didn't know. Otherwise, she would have told me. Or else she didn't feel it was important enough stuff to pile on top of everything else. To me, every move that young woman made was important, especially now that I knew about the hideous things she was capable of doing.

She had gotten away with shutting her stepfather in that refrigerator, which resulted in his death. I could understand why she had done it, too. But why had she gagged and tied up Ethel in that refrigerator? Ethel was no threat to her? Or was she? Ethel wouldn't t harm a fly, let alone a living soul. So she posed no physical threat to Angel. And the jealousy thing still didn't work for me. But she posed a threat to Angel in some way. Angel didn't just kill her for the fun of it. She had a reason. Just like she had a reason to try and set me up for the murder.

She didn't try, old gal, she did done it, that inner voice corrected.

This also reminded me my hours of freedom were coming to a rapid end. I had until Monday to prove my innocence; to prove Angel was the one the police really wanted. Even though they didn't know it yet.