Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,40
in front of her friend once again. “Unfortunately, my office didn’t have the windowless effect of most interrogation rooms.”
The woman pulled her hair out of its holder once again, her hands repeating the same pattern—gather hair, wrap with band, gather hair, wrap with band. “You, too, huh?”
“Me, too.”
Melissa dropped her hands to the table and slumped against her chair. “Does it make me an awful friend to say I’m a little relieved to know I wasn’t the only one being grilled about Ashley Lawson’s murder?”
She considered her friend’s words. “I’d say it makes you human.”
The faintest hint of a smile flitted across Melissa’s face only to disappear just as quickly. “Thanks, Victoria.”
Nodding, Tori reached for the glass once again, stopping her hand midway. “How about I just get my own?”
Melissa laughed. “You can have mine. I’m not thirsty.”
She accepted the glass and held it to her lips once again, the coolness of the liquid helping to dispel the dryness that had started during her own visit from the Sweet Briar police chief. “So what happened?”
“He asked me about the party, again, and I told him, again.” A burst of laughter wafted its way from the backyard and through the open window. Rising to her feet, Melissa peeked outside, her gaze lingering beyond the confines of the cheerfully messy kitchen. “I can’t be without these kids, Victoria. I just can’t.”
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked as she took yet another sip of water.
Without turning, Melissa spoke, her voice dripping with fear. “If Chief Dallas has his way I’ll be spending the next kazillion years behind bars.”
She choked on her water, the resulting cough pulling Melissa back to the table. “Are you okay, Victoria?”
“I—I’m f-fine. But”—she inhaled sharply—“what’s this with the prison stuff? Did he say that?”
Melissa dropped into her chair once again, her shoulders rising and falling as she did. “He didn’t have to. The questions he was asking said enough.”
She thought back over her own encounter with the chief just that morning, the man’s pointed questions and skeptically raised eyebrows a memory she’d tried to banish as she moved through the rest of her day at work. “Let me guess. He wanted to talk about the things you said regarding Ashley Lawson.”
“He knew I’d said strangling would probably be my preferred method of killing her. He knew I’d laughed when Caroline Rowen commented on eliminating her for the good of the kindergarten birthday party circuit. And he knew I’d been one of the ones to speculate how best to untie Milo’s knot.”
Blowing a strand of hair from her cheek, she pushed back her chair and stood. “I got essentially the same thing. Though his statements were tailored to the things I said that evening.”
For a moment Melissa said nothing as she traced a pattern across the tablecloth with her nail-bitten fingers. When she finally spoke, her voice was strained, her words wooden. “I feel awful that everyone is being harassed because of a party I threw. A party that you and Rose and Dixie and Leona had no reason to be a part of except to lend moral support.”
“We were there because we wanted to be there, Melissa.” She strode across the room to the window and glanced outside, the sight of her friend’s brood bringing a smile to her lips despite the topic at hand. “And I’d be willing to bet Debbie and Beatrice don’t regret bringing Jackson and Luke to Sally’s party, either.”
A snort from Melissa made her turn. “That might be true about Debbie but I’m willing to bet it’s not where Beatrice is concerned. That poor girl is terrified.”
“Of Chief Dallas?”
Melissa nodded. “Among other things, yes.”
“Other things?” she asked as she retraced her steps across the kitchen and leaned against the counter.
“The Johnsons aren’t happy about Beatrice’s possible involvement in Ashley’s murder. They told her they’d give it a little time to see how it plays out but that looking for another source of employment might be a good idea.”
She sucked in her breath. “Are you serious? Luke loves Beatrice. And anyone who knows that woman—as his parents should—knows she couldn’t hurt a flea.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”
“So what’s the problem?” She pushed off the counter and rejoined her friend at the table. “Why are they giving her a hard time?”
“Because Regina Murphy belongs to the same golf club as the Johnsons do and her rage over Ashley’s murder is starting to spread around to all the members.”
“Ahhh, and now those members are starting to question