pretty much had to. Especially after we found Lester Drummond lying in a grave.”
Missy’s mouth closed with a snap.
Suzanne continued, “Besides, honey, Doogie would have figured it out for himself eventually. There’s a good chance someone else saw you, too. I figured telling the truth was the aboveboard thing to do.”
“You didn’t do me any favors, Suzanne,” said Missy. Her voice was chilly, veering below zero degrees Celsius.
A tiny line insinuated itself between Suzanne’s brows. Something felt off. Missy wasn’t usually this hostile. In fact, she was one of the sweetest people she knew. “We told Sheriff Doogie because we knew it wouldn’t be a problem for you.” She hesitated, let a couple of beats go by, and said, “It isn’t really, is it?”
Missy blew out a glut of air and plunked herself down in a wooden chair. “It’s just that . . .” She lifted a hand, then let it flop in her lap.
“What, Missy? What’s going on?”
Missy pressed her lips together and shook her head. She looked annoyed. But beneath the tightness in her face she seemed frightened, too.
Suzanne marched over to the counter and poured a glass of water. She carried it back to Missy and sat down at the table across from her.
“Why do people always bring you water when you’re upset?” Missy asked, taking a tentative gulp.
“I don’t know,” said Suzanne. “It’s just what you do.” What she didn’t say was,
It’s what you do to buy time in mixed-up situations that you don’t understand.
In situations where you’re afraid for your friend.
“Well, thanks,” said Missy, taking another sip.
Suzanne decided to take a softer approach. “So you had a conversation with Sheriff Doogie . . . ?” Her voice trailed off.
Missy narrowed her eyes and said, with bite in her voice, “Seems to me you’ve grown awfully close to that old toad.”
Suzanne was suddenly defensive. “Don’t call him that. Sheriff Doogie is a good man. He looks after our town.”
“He’s completely misguided,” Missy snapped. “He thinks I murdered Lester Drummond, which is absolutely preposterous! You know I wouldn’t hurt a fly! Even though I despised Drummond!”
“I know that,” said Suzanne. “But try to see it from Doogie’s point of view. You were at the cemetery, Drummond was at the cemetery.” She lifted her hands, spread her fingers apart in a gesture of appeal. She was hoping Missy might fill in some of the blanks and explain herself. And certainly, there were significant blanks to be filled in.
Instead, Missy grew wary. “Why were
you
there, Suzanne?”
“Because Toni roped me into delivering a bunch of flowers for the Sesquicentennial,” Suzanne replied. “But my guess is, you already know that. Sheriff Doogie probably mentioned all that to you.”
Missy gave a tight nod.
“Okay,” said Suzanne. “Now I want you to listen very carefully to me. I need you to know that I seriously went to bat for you this morning. Yes, we told Sheriff Doogie that we saw you leaving the cemetery. But I also told him, in no uncertain terms, that there was no way you could be involved in Lester Drummond’s death.”
Missy stared at her. “You really told him that?”
“Yes. Of course I did,” Suzanne said with great intensity.
“He didn’t believe you,” Missy said in a soft voice, a voice filled with pain. Her eyes sparkled with tears and she let loose an anguished sound in the back of her throat.
“Then tell me what happened,” said Suzanne. “Tell me what went on up there this morning. And then let me help you!”
Missy put a hand up and pushed away a hunk of blond hair, revealing a furrowed forehead. “Suzanne, do you remember when Ozzie was killed?” Ozzie had been Missy’s sweetheart after she’d divorced her husband, Earl Stensrud.
Suzanne nodded. She remembered.
“Sheriff Doogie questioned me about that murder, too!”
“For about two seconds as I understand it. And it was only pro
Missy’s mouth closed with a snap.
Suzanne continued, “Besides, honey, Doogie would have figured it out for himself eventually. There’s a good chance someone else saw you, too. I figured telling the truth was the aboveboard thing to do.”
“You didn’t do me any favors, Suzanne,” said Missy. Her voice was chilly, veering below zero degrees Celsius.
A tiny line insinuated itself between Suzanne’s brows. Something felt off. Missy wasn’t usually this hostile. In fact, she was one of the sweetest people she knew. “We told Sheriff Doogie because we knew it wouldn’t be a problem for you.” She hesitated, let a couple of beats go by, and said, “It isn’t really, is it?”
Missy blew out a glut of air and plunked herself down in a wooden chair. “It’s just that . . .” She lifted a hand, then let it flop in her lap.
“What, Missy? What’s going on?”
Missy pressed her lips together and shook her head. She looked annoyed. But beneath the tightness in her face she seemed frightened, too.
Suzanne marched over to the counter and poured a glass of water. She carried it back to Missy and sat down at the table across from her.
“Why do people always bring you water when you’re upset?” Missy asked, taking a tentative gulp.
“I don’t know,” said Suzanne. “It’s just what you do.” What she didn’t say was,
It’s what you do to buy time in mixed-up situations that you don’t understand.
In situations where you’re afraid for your friend.
“Well, thanks,” said Missy, taking another sip.
Suzanne decided to take a softer approach. “So you had a conversation with Sheriff Doogie . . . ?” Her voice trailed off.
Missy narrowed her eyes and said, with bite in her voice, “Seems to me you’ve grown awfully close to that old toad.”
Suzanne was suddenly defensive. “Don’t call him that. Sheriff Doogie is a good man. He looks after our town.”
“He’s completely misguided,” Missy snapped. “He thinks I murdered Lester Drummond, which is absolutely preposterous! You know I wouldn’t hurt a fly! Even though I despised Drummond!”
“I know that,” said Suzanne. “But try to see it from Doogie’s point of view. You were at the cemetery, Drummond was at the cemetery.” She lifted her hands, spread her fingers apart in a gesture of appeal. She was hoping Missy might fill in some of the blanks and explain herself. And certainly, there were significant blanks to be filled in.
Instead, Missy grew wary. “Why were
you
there, Suzanne?”
“Because Toni roped me into delivering a bunch of flowers for the Sesquicentennial,” Suzanne replied. “But my guess is, you already know that. Sheriff Doogie probably mentioned all that to you.”
Missy gave a tight nod.
“Okay,” said Suzanne. “Now I want you to listen very carefully to me. I need you to know that I seriously went to bat for you this morning. Yes, we told Sheriff Doogie that we saw you leaving the cemetery. But I also told him, in no uncertain terms, that there was no way you could be involved in Lester Drummond’s death.”
Missy stared at her. “You really told him that?”
“Yes. Of course I did,” Suzanne said with great intensity.
“He didn’t believe you,” Missy said in a soft voice, a voice filled with pain. Her eyes sparkled with tears and she let loose an anguished sound in the back of her throat.
“Then tell me what happened,” said Suzanne. “Tell me what went on up there this morning. And then let me help you!”
Missy put a hand up and pushed away a hunk of blond hair, revealing a furrowed forehead. “Suzanne, do you remember when Ozzie was killed?” Ozzie had been Missy’s sweetheart after she’d divorced her husband, Earl Stensrud.
Suzanne nodded. She remembered.
“Sheriff Doogie questioned me about that murder, too!”
“For about two seconds as I understand it. And it was only pro
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