soon as possible." I could hear him smiling.
"Uh, okay. Why?" I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"The autopsy results are back. We need to talk." He hung up before I had a chance to ask any more questions.
What was he talking about? Why did he need to talk to me?
I sat with the phone still in my hand, trying to control my breathing. I felt like my world had come crashing down, but I didn't know why.
I didn't even notice Kathy coming in.
"Mercedes," she started. "Betty's son is here. He said the coroner says Rowdy was poisoned."
Chapter Five
“Well, this is awkward. Can't say this was on my 'do before I die' list.” The receptionist didn't see the humor in my comment, but I needed to say something to try and calm my nerves. Being asked to visit the Sheriff's office wasn't exactly high on my list of favorite things.
The receptionist's tired, brown eyes stared blankly at me. “Sit down over there. Sheriff Wagner will come and get you when he's ready for you.”
“Great! Thanks!” I turned around, disgusted by the state of the waiting room. It looked like something I'd seen grow in a petri dish. There wasn't a surface in sight that I felt comfortable enough to stand next to, let alone touch. “I'll stand, thank you.”
I'd seen my share of whodunit movies and, I had to admit, this place ranked right up there with dark, dank, and dingy police stations and I didn't like it one bit.
I heard heavy footsteps approach the security door. My heart started racing. Even though I'd done nothing wrong, my job – my career – were on the line.
“Mercy,” Sheriff Wagner nodded at me.
“Um... Hi?” I couldn't hide my fear. This was my worst nightmare come true. “How are you?” I extended my hand, the shaking clearly evident.
“Too much coffee today?” Sheriff Wagner asked, pointing to my trembling limb.
“This isn't exactly my idea of a fun time.” I answered, trying to sound funny, but failing miserably judging by the lack of laughter my comment elicited.
All eyes were on us as we walked through the small office area, filled with officers and support staff studying my every move, as if they had to commit my face to memory. I could see it now. My face would be plastered all over signs at the entrance of town, warning people to steer clear of me and my out-of-towner ways.
“Thanks for coming in to see me on such short notice,” Sheriff Wagner said, motioning for me to take a seat in his office.
“Well, you did sort of force my hand there, Sheriff.” There I went again, saying the wrong thing.
He took his seat, pulling himself snugly against the desk, and looked me directly in the eyes with a mixture of pity and disapproval. “So, Mrs. Mares, why did you choose this assignment?”
“Because I have bills to pay and I'm no fool,” I answered, quickly, not taking into consideration how bad that would sound.
His eyebrows quirked up as he began taking copious notes. I spent enough time trying to decipher a plethora of doctor's orders and make out what their scribbled notes said to have perfected the art of reading upside down and sideways. He jotted down my name and the words 'smart mouth' next to it.
I needed to redeem myself before this conversation went any further south. “I mean, I was assigned and there aren't too many jobs that I refuse. I signed up for this kind of job and I work really hard to do my best each and every day, so it is rare that I refuse an assignment.”
He wrote another couple of notes. By all accounts, it looked like he was making a grocery list.
“The job must be tough.” He said, looking back up at me.
When he didn't elaborate, I said what I could to break the silence. “Yes, it can be tough, but I love it.”
“What is the best part of your job?” He asked.
“Um... This kind of sounds like a job interview.” Why couldn't I just
"Uh, okay. Why?" I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"The autopsy results are back. We need to talk." He hung up before I had a chance to ask any more questions.
What was he talking about? Why did he need to talk to me?
I sat with the phone still in my hand, trying to control my breathing. I felt like my world had come crashing down, but I didn't know why.
I didn't even notice Kathy coming in.
"Mercedes," she started. "Betty's son is here. He said the coroner says Rowdy was poisoned."
Chapter Five
“Well, this is awkward. Can't say this was on my 'do before I die' list.” The receptionist didn't see the humor in my comment, but I needed to say something to try and calm my nerves. Being asked to visit the Sheriff's office wasn't exactly high on my list of favorite things.
The receptionist's tired, brown eyes stared blankly at me. “Sit down over there. Sheriff Wagner will come and get you when he's ready for you.”
“Great! Thanks!” I turned around, disgusted by the state of the waiting room. It looked like something I'd seen grow in a petri dish. There wasn't a surface in sight that I felt comfortable enough to stand next to, let alone touch. “I'll stand, thank you.”
I'd seen my share of whodunit movies and, I had to admit, this place ranked right up there with dark, dank, and dingy police stations and I didn't like it one bit.
I heard heavy footsteps approach the security door. My heart started racing. Even though I'd done nothing wrong, my job – my career – were on the line.
“Mercy,” Sheriff Wagner nodded at me.
“Um... Hi?” I couldn't hide my fear. This was my worst nightmare come true. “How are you?” I extended my hand, the shaking clearly evident.
“Too much coffee today?” Sheriff Wagner asked, pointing to my trembling limb.
“This isn't exactly my idea of a fun time.” I answered, trying to sound funny, but failing miserably judging by the lack of laughter my comment elicited.
All eyes were on us as we walked through the small office area, filled with officers and support staff studying my every move, as if they had to commit my face to memory. I could see it now. My face would be plastered all over signs at the entrance of town, warning people to steer clear of me and my out-of-towner ways.
“Thanks for coming in to see me on such short notice,” Sheriff Wagner said, motioning for me to take a seat in his office.
“Well, you did sort of force my hand there, Sheriff.” There I went again, saying the wrong thing.
He took his seat, pulling himself snugly against the desk, and looked me directly in the eyes with a mixture of pity and disapproval. “So, Mrs. Mares, why did you choose this assignment?”
“Because I have bills to pay and I'm no fool,” I answered, quickly, not taking into consideration how bad that would sound.
His eyebrows quirked up as he began taking copious notes. I spent enough time trying to decipher a plethora of doctor's orders and make out what their scribbled notes said to have perfected the art of reading upside down and sideways. He jotted down my name and the words 'smart mouth' next to it.
I needed to redeem myself before this conversation went any further south. “I mean, I was assigned and there aren't too many jobs that I refuse. I signed up for this kind of job and I work really hard to do my best each and every day, so it is rare that I refuse an assignment.”
He wrote another couple of notes. By all accounts, it looked like he was making a grocery list.
“The job must be tough.” He said, looking back up at me.
When he didn't elaborate, I said what I could to break the silence. “Yes, it can be tough, but I love it.”
“What is the best part of your job?” He asked.
“Um... This kind of sounds like a job interview.” Why couldn't I just
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