Zephaniah 2:3
Tuesday 18th December: There was a sort of inevitability about the chain of events that led to Lisa, the well bosomed, well adorned, twenty-four year old barmaid from Pazzo's moving into the carriage house at 195 Longhill.
Point one. Vicky Walters was her friend.
Point two. Michael Hanlin had met Lisa and knew Vicky well.
Point three. The Hanlin's carriage house was empty and Lisa needed somewhere to sleep because her landlord had discovered she was an illegal and had decided to up the rent. She'd stormed out on him before she'd thought about where she was heading.
She'd come to Vicky for help and hence to Jane Hanlin. She could have gone to Michael for the same favor but it's always best to go to the top in any chain of command and when it came to matters of the home, Jane ruled. America is a conservative place, possibly one of the most matriarchal societies in the Western World.
What was less predictable was what happened next. Sure the Hanlins had known Maria. As did Vicky. But neither the Hanlins nor Lisa, nor for that matter Vicky, were on anything beyond nodding terms with Maria's boyfriend Mikhail.
But Lisa had got to talking to Mikhail after church. Given the fact that they shared a language and shared a lost friend, it was far from surprising that they shared friendship in view of the commonality of their grief.
It was obvious the way it happened in the end. Almost predictable. He had offered to walk Lisa home from church. It wasn't so far from O.L.P.H. but Lisa accepted, being the big hearted girl she was. She could see Mikhail wanted company and was at a loose end without Maria.
And she felt sorry for him. Which was why she invited him in for coffee. It was out of pity that she gave him lunch just as it was out of pity that she had later surrendered her bed and her body.
Their conversation on the way back from church ran as follows.
"Amazing Mr Hartnett confessing to the Robert Young murder. Would you do that Mikhail? Confess to something you didn't do to save someone you loved?"
Mickhail grimaced. "Who says he didn't do it?"
"Well they're still going on with the murder trial - of Mrs Hartnett I mean."
"That doesn't mean he's innocent."
"Maybe not but would you? Confess to save a lover I mean? If it meant you'd be executed?"
Mikhail pondered for little more than a moment. But his Latin blood was as ever to the fore. Mikhail knew there was no death sentance in Masachusetts but that was scarcely the point. "Of course. I would be shamed not to."
Lisa pursed her lips approvingly and nodded her head. "Yes of course, indeed of course. So would I." She broke step and looked squarely at Mikhail, forcing him to break stride in turn. "But she couldn't have killed Maria." Then she flushed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Sorry Mickhail."
He shrugged. "No problem. No, she had no reason to. That was Baxter Merill."
"You so sure of that?"
Mikhail snarled his response, contorting his face to do so. "Sure I'm sure. And he'll pay."
"Seems he's paying already."
"No," bit out Mickhail. "Not enough," he said. "Not nearly enough."
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