Black and Blueberry Die (A Fresh-Baked Mystery Book 11) by Livia J. Washburn Page B

go anywhere near government offices without having to go through one. Sam had had to go back to his pickup and leave his pocketknife there enough times that he had finally stopped carrying it, even though he was disgusted by that development. He’d had a knife in his pocket every day of his life since junior high, he had said, and it just didn’t seem right not carrying one. But he was so accustomed to it that he had completely forgotten about it those times he had tried to take it in somewhere it wasn’t allowed.
    “Nobody better gripe when they need a box cut open and I don’t have a pocketknife, though,” he had said. “It’s not my fault.”
    After saying goodbye to D’Angelo, Phyllis went into the living room to find Sam and tell him what the attorney had arranged.
    “I don’t like it much,” he said with a slight frown. “I’d rather go in there with you. But if they won’t allow more than two visitors at a time, I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about it.”
    From the sofa on the other side of the room, Carolyn sniffed and said, “Just hope there’s not a riot.”
    “I always do,” Sam said solemnly.
    ••●••
    They were supposed to meet Jimmy D’Angelo at the Tarrant County jail at ten o’clock the next morning. The jail was located on Belknap Street at the northern edge of downtown Fort Worth, on a bluff overlooking the winding course of the Trinity River. Phyllis had never been in the jail before, but she recalled parking not far from here in a vast lot beside the river, then riding the Leonards’ Department Store M&O Subway—the world’s only privately owned subway system—into downtown for shopping excursions.
    The subway was gone now, another victim of the constant change that had altered the face of downtown Fort Worth just as it had everywhere else. Though she’d heard rumors that the tunnel still existed, down there in the bluff on which the city sat. That was a creepy enough thought to make shivers go down a person’s back.
    Sam remembered the subway, too, and lamented its passing. He said, “Sure was easier to park down there in the Leonards’ parkin’ lot than to fight the traffic up here in town.”
    He found an empty meter on a side street that sloped down fairly sharply toward the river and fed enough quarters in it to keep them safely parked there for a couple of hours. The two of them walked up the slanting sidewalk, turned the corner onto Belknap, and headed for the jail a block away.
    Most of the men and women going in and out of the tall building were neatly dressed in professional attire. Lawyers, Phyllis thought. The ones in jeans, like her and Sam, were probably here to visit prisoners.
    D’Angelo was waiting for them just inside the lobby, holding his briefcase in his right hand and using his left to hold his phone as he talked. He nodded to Phyllis and Sam to indicate that he saw them as he finished up his conversation. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket and said, “Right on time. There’s been a little delay, though.”
    “Something wrong?” Phyllis asked.
    “I’m not sure. They’ll let us know when we can talk to Danny. In the meantime, let’s sit down and you can tell me what you’ve found out so far.”
    Phyllis shook her head and said, “Nothing that’s going to help very much, I’m afraid.”
    “Maybe you’ve found something but just don’t know what it means yet.”
    “I don’t think we can count on that.”
    The three of them sat down on a plastic bench with Phyllis in the middle. She explained how she had visited Paul’s Beauty Salon the day before.
    “Going undercover,” D’Angelo said with a nod. “I like it.”
    It didn’t take long for Phyllis to give him the details of the conversation she’d had with Aurora and Pauline Gibbs.
    “Sounds like this Aurora girl didn’t get along that well with Roxanne,” the lawyer commented. “Might be something there.”
    “Or everything she said might be totally