snapped.
“Hold on there, you’re so out of line,” I said.
“Am I? Aren’t you the one who told her to come to the back of the stage at six tonight to get the plywood?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
My stomach flipped. “Well, yes, I did.”
“So, you knew she would be here,” he continued. “And you hated her.”
“Well, it’s not like we were bosom buddies or anything, but hate is a strong word,” I said.
“So you have motive; your disdain of her,” Dwight said. “And the police said that the weapon was a skull, might I add, from your set of Hamlet props. You must have used it to crack her cranium.”
“Me? I’d never hurt anyone. Ever.” Tears welled in my eyes.
“Killer.” Dwight stabbed a finger into my arm.
“I’m not. You have to believe me,” I said. “I could never do anything like that.”
“Yeah. Maybe. But you could’ve arranged for someone else to do your dirty deed.” His voice shook. “You schemed and planned this all out. You’re nothing but a vile vindictive shriveled up old felon.” He pushed me.
“Watch your mouth,” said José. “And stop touching her, or I’ll arrest you for assault.” José moved in front of Dwight. “Why don’t you calm down and let me do the investigation?”
“Yeah, right, you’d never let your buddies get into trouble. You’re too biased to be any part of this investigation.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you call your silly group—the Fat Hen Club?”
How did he know about our little klatch? On the other hand, the four of us, José, Cat, Bezu and I were together quite often. And there was newspaper coverage about all of us after we’d solved two cases.
“Stupid name if you ask me,” Dwight said.
“You’re in shock, we all are. Maybe just take a minute to compose yourself,” I offered.
“I just can’t believe she’s dead. I can’t.” He hung his head.
“We’ll find out what happened, trust me,” José said. “I’m a professional.”
Officer Ray walked up. “That’s to be determined.” He stood an inch shorter than José, but had a stout, thick build like a tree trunk, and a blond crew cut.
José shook his head.
“You’re welcome to take over this case if you want to. Just lay off the sarcasm. It’s not helping.”
Ray huffed as he flipped open a notepad. “I need to ask these two women a few questions.” He motioned at Bezu and me.
“I’d be glad to help you out in any way I can,” I said.
“Me too,” Bezu added.
“We have absolutely nothing to hide,” I said.
“I doubt that.” Dwight stomped off as José trailed him.
***
Following Officer Ray’s questioning, Bezu and I found José.
“You survived Officer Ray’s interrogation?” With his gloved hand, he placed a crumpled piece of whitish translucent paper into a clear plastic bag.
“Oh my,” Bezu sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong, Bezu?” I asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“José, when you’re done, is it okay if I take a look at that bag, please?” Bezu’s voice quivered.
“It’s crime scene evidence. Don’t open it.” José handed it to Bezu.
“Heaven forbid.” Bezu held up the bag, and sucked in a breath. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“What?” I looked at the bag.
Bezu replied, “That looks like the very same wax paper I wrapped Gerald’s dessert in.”
“All wax paper looks the same,” I said.
“But, on this one, I can see crumbs stuck to it that look like pecan pie,” Bezu said.
“Okay, but why would that be anywhere near a crime scene?” I asked.
“We’ll soon find out, after forensics takes a look at it,” José said.
She was onto something. Gerald had left to go to Armstrong before six. And at dinner, he’d seemed rather preoccupied. Could he be a killer? Perhaps I wasn’t as good a judge of character as I’d once thought. But then again, Gerald was innocent until proven guilty.
So what could I deduce so far? There were
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