Twenty-Five
THE NEXT FEW MINUTES are chaotic. Helen stands, looking confused. Rebecca Myer screams and collapses on the couch in tears. Edmund Watson stands next to his wife, talking in her ear, saying, “What are you talking about, Marjorie? What in the world are you talking about? What nonsense is this?” Marjorie Watson for her part stands stock still, staring into space, her jawline firm.
“Well,” Helen whispers to me when she walks to where I am standing. “This is a fine mess.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Do? Do? I’m going to listen to what she has to say,” Helen says. “Either she’s covering for the daughter or she’s telling the truth. We can check to see if Rebecca has an alibi. In the meantime, Tom, let me do my job. And keep your mouth shut. Just sit over there, will you pl
