"Which room did Monica do?" I asked faintly.
"Put the peas back on your face." I obeyed, and Mom said, "The bedroom."
I moaned. Sally had worked hard finding just the right pieces for her bedroom, haunting estate sales and auctions to find the perfect antiques. Some of them had been heirloom quality. "What did Jazz do with Sally's furniture?" Technically I guess it was his furniture, too, but Sally was the one who was emotionally invested in it.
"That was the kicker. Monica talked him into putting it in her consignment shop, where of course it sold right away."
"What?" I dropped the peas to stare openmouthed at Mom. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Poor Sally couldn't even re-create her bedroom. "Forget the car, I'd have rented a bulldozer and gone after him! Why didn't she back up and take another go?"
"Well, she was hurt. I told you it broke her nose. And her glasses, so she couldn't see, either. I don't know what's going to happen to them. I don't see how she can ever forgive him- Hello, Wyatt. I didn't see you standing there. Blair, I didn't have time to put on the roast, so we're going to grill hamburgers."
I looked around at where the two men were standing in the doorway, listening. The expression on Wyatt's face was priceless. Dad took it all in stride.
"Fine with me," Dad said affably. "I'll get the charcoal started." He went through the kitchen and out onto the deck, where he kept his monster grill.
Wyatt was a cop. He'd just heard about an attempted murder, though I knew Sally had really intended more to break Jazz's legs than to kill him. He also looked as if he'd just stepped into an alternate universe. "She can't forgive him?" he asked in a strained tone. "She tried to kill him!"
"Well, yeah," I said.
Mom said, "He redecorated her bedroom." Did we have to draw him a picture?
"I'm going outside," he said warily, and followed Dad. Actually, it sort of looked as if he was escaping. I don't know what he expected. Maybe he thought we should be discussing my personal situation, but you know that thing I have about dancing around and not thinking about something? I got it from Mom. It was much better for us to talk about Sally trying to run over Jazz than it was to think about someone trying to kill me.
The topic was like a nine-hundred-pound gorilla, though; we might put it in a corner, but we couldn't forget about it.
Siana arrived, having gone home and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Jenni breezed in, cheerful in a pale yellow dress that went great with her skin tone, and she had to be brought up to speed on the car accident. That was the topic of conversation at the dinner table, over juicy grilled hamburgers. Actually the dinner table was the picnic table out on the deck, but the principle is the same.
"I'm going to talk to Blair's ex-husband tomorrow," Wyatt said when Mom asked what the plan of action was. "Blair says it isn't him, but statistics say I'd better have a talk with him."
I shrugged. "Knock yourself out. Like I said, I haven't seen or talked to him since the divorce."
"But he called and left a message on her answering machine when it was on the news that she'd been shot," Wyatt told my intensely interested family.
Siana leaned back and said thoughtfully to me, "It's not beyond the realm of possibility that he wants to get back together with you. He may be having trouble with his second wife."
"All the more reason for me to have a word with him," Wyatt said, with a snap in his words.
"I can't see Jason doing anything violent," Mom said. "He'd be too concerned with how it would look. He'd do anything to protect his political career."
"Would he kill to protect it?" Wyatt asked, and everyone fell silent. Jenni toyed with her silverware and didn't look at any of us.
"But I'm not threatening his political career," I pointed out. "Whatever I know about Jason is the same thing I've known about him all along; there's nothing new. So why would he suddenly decide, after five years, that he needs to kill me?"
"Maybe it isn't your situation that's changed; maybe it's his. Maybe he's planning to run for something more important than the state legislature, such as governor, or congressman."
"So he thinks he'll commit murder and get away with it? How likely is that?"
"Depends. Is he a man who's smart, or a man who just thinks he's smart?"
We all looked at each other. The problem was, Jason wasn't a dummy but neither was he anywhere near as sharp as he thought he was. "I'll give you that," I finally said. "But there's still no motive that I can see."
"You can't see any motive, period, for anyone, so that doesn't rule him out."
"I see. Since I can't point you to any specific person, you have to consider everyone."
"But in the meantime, Wyatt, until you catch this person," Mom said, "how are you going to keep Blair safe? She can't go to work; she can't stay in her own home. I'm surprised you even let her come here."
"I thought about canceling," he admitted. "But I had to balance that against other needs. I can guard her coming and going to the car, and I can make certain no one follows us when we leave. Unless this person knows Blair and I are involved, and knows where I live, we're in the clear there. Have any of you told anyone?"
"I didn't even tell Sally," Mom said. "She isn't in any state to listen right now."
"I haven't," Siana said. "We talked about Blair getting shot, but we didn't get into personal stuff."
Jenni shook her head. "Same here."