Continuation of Bat Canary's Crime Thriller: Politics and Murder, Oh My!

Two days later

McLellan isn't expecting my call. Or maybe he is.

"Anna?" He laughs. "Of course. Who else would call at...4:12 in the morning? I guess The Gareth's sleeping pills finally kicked in."

My stomach is twisting into sloppy knots and my palms are starting to sweat. This shouldn't be hard. I'm making it hard. "Hope I didn't wake you," I say. At least I'm not stammering.

"You know I don't sleep. Except for the occasional post-coital snooze."

He would bring that up. Sometimes I think he'd like to show "The Gareth" the pictures. I know he took pictures. That's the kind of guy Rhodes is.

I clear my throat. "I've got some information for you."

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Regarding the fundraiser. You know I was there."

"With The Gareth. Of course. I saw your picture. Nice dress."

He definitely has nude photos of me. Good Lord. I should hang up now and call the police like a good girl. But...

"This isn't about me," I say.

McLellan doesn't laugh. I thought he would. "How long are you gonna keep this up?" he asks. "You're well past the six-month point now. What's next? Marriage? Children?" I hear him swallow something. Whiskey, I bet. "Good luck with that, Anna."

"Gareth is a great man," I hear myself saying.

"Okay. All right. Now, I've got some work to do, so-"

"Don't you wanna hear what I witnessed that night?"

"Did The Gareth cuddle with you afterwards? I'm happy for you."

"Shut up, Rhodes."

He's dropping ice cubes into a glass. I don't know if he heard me. "Shut up," I say again. It comes out as a pathetic whine.

"I heard you the first time. I was even doing as you asked. Till now."

I groan-involuntarily. He's probably smirking right now. Unless he's too drunk to smirk.

"Listen, it's great hearing from you," he says, "but I'm working and you're neglecting The Gareth. I think I hear him snoring."

"I saw the girl who was murdered. Before she was murdered. I saw her being dragged into the bathroom!"

McLellan says nothing. He was quiet the night we made love. So quiet I wanted to scratch his cheeks. Talk to me! I wanted to scream.

"I couldn't see who dragged her into the bathroom. It was a man. Black hair. Maybe 5'11. Caucasian. I only saw the back of his head."

McLellan sighs. A thoughtful sigh? An angry sigh? I'm not sure. "Have you already told the police?" he finally asks.

"No."

"Have you told him?"

"Gareth? Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

Tears are prickling my eyes. I refuse to cry until after I've hung up. "I gotta go," I say, in little more than a whisper. "Sorry."

"Anna, don't-"

I hang up. And wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my nightgown before returning to bed. Gareth doesn't stir. At least he's not snoring. Rhodes was wrong about that. Gareth never snores.