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The story trotted out my past, my involvement with similar things. Then I got personally involved with Gillian, the killer, through phone calls, tapes, mail, even poems. She was very clever. I became the go-between. There was no way out, nothing to do but see it through to the end. To be truthful, I resented the intrusion. On my personal and professional life. I’d just signed a recording contract, work was coming in, and things with Natalie were fine. Then Lawrence—Andie, everybody called her—got involved. I had to help her create a profile of Gillian. Natalie didn’t understand all the time I spent with Andie or why I was so involved in the first place, and I couldn’t tell her everything.”
    “And did she have any cause to be worried, jealous even?”
    I paused a moment before answering. “Worried? Yes, it was more dangerous than anything I’d ever done. Jealous? I don’t know. Not at first, but there was chemistry between Andie and me, strong sexual tension. I admit that. I thought I was committed to Natalie, but maybe not as much as I thought. It didn’t help that Andie was very attractive. She made it very clear she was available and interested.”
    “Did you think that was unprofessional of her?”
    I shrugged. “I didn’t connect it like that. I knew she was testing the waters, but under the circumstances, it was different. We were thrown together, we traveled together to San Francisco. People can’t help their feelings, even if it means being unprofessional. It happens all the time, and I suppose I was flattered by the attention.”
    “And did you act on those feelings?”
    “No, I didn’t, but Natalie wasn’t convinced, and that in turn made me doubt her, wonder why she couldn’t trust me. I was just doing a job I didn’t want to be doing. I could tell her less and less as they closed in on Gillian, but it was in part for her own protection as well. Nobody knew what Gillian was going to do. I was juggling Gillian, the FBI, Natalie, Andie Lawrence, and trying to keep my music together, all at the same time.
    “In San Francisco, Andie and I were staying at the same hotel, in adjoining rooms, but something kept me from opening that door, even though I knew it wasn’t locked. Natalie, of course, didn’t see it that way. She suspected the worst, and nothing I could tell her would make it go away. But there was something else as well.”
    This was the real problem, and I’d been working up to it gradually by talking about Andie Lawrence and Natalie. Now it was time.
    “What?”
    “Gillian. Her phone calls. I never knew when they were coming, but she was playing with my head, seducing me in a way, mentally. I wanted…to know. It became an obsession to know why she was doing this, what would make anybody do what she did, and if I could stop her.” I smiled at Hammond. “Makes me sound weird, huh?”
    “Not at all. It was a natural feeling. You had too many opposing forces closing in on you all at once, that’s all.”
    “I always thought music was the only thing for me, but I got caught up in those other things the same way, just on a different level. I had to know the answers once the questions were put before me. Wardell Gray’s death—how did it happen? The Clifford Brown recordings—were they real or not? I wanted to know, even though I should have stopped long before I did.”
    “And when you found the answers, was there satisfaction?”
    “Yes, there was satisfaction, even though all the questions weren’t answered.” I got up and walked around the office, glancing at Hammond’s certificates on the wall, the art posters.
    “Can I smoke?” I asked Hammond. She nodded yes. I lit up and sat down again while she poured us both some coffee. “It’s hard to explain, but yes, I got satisfaction from tracking down people, finding the answers, resolving things. Sometimes maybe even as much as I get from music. And that scared me.”
    Hammond said, “No reason it should. You were