Sweet and Deadly by Charlaine Harris Page A

it?”
    â€œYes,” Sheriff Galton said, recrossing his legs. He shifted on the soft couch, and sighed. “It was probably a man; maybe a woman, a tall woman, from the angle of the blows.”
    She had never before been glad she was short.
    â€œOr two people,” added the sheriff carefully. He lit a cigarette and leaned forward. “You think to wonder what the killer was searching for, Catherine?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œWhy, Leona was blackmailing people. She had another career going, but her main line was blackmail. We’ll burn what we found so far—after we question the people involved. Just little pieces of nasty evidence she was holding for ransom; none of it criminal material. It’s her other career that concerns us even more.”
    After this revelation, Catherine was literally speechless. She could only wait for Galton to continue. His eyes were resting on her intently, and she felt her hands begin to shake.
    â€œI have one more question to ask you, then I’ll leave you to your Sunday,” Galton said heavily. “Have you gone to Leona with…any kind of problem ? Since your folks died?”
    Catherine felt like a mouse being played with by a big old cat. Her thoughts were slow. She stubbed out her cigarette as she tried to recall, though she was sure she had never taken a problem of any kind to Leona. Her mind wandered. She tried to imagine herself crying on Leona’s shoulder over some girlish difficulty, and decided that tears would have just rolled off that starched white shoulder.
    When she looked at Galton again, she realized her long pause had cost her something. There was once again a look of sternness in his face.
    That’s not fair, she thought despairingly.
    â€œI would never take a problem to Leona,” she said. Her voice was as weary and watchful as Galton’s. Even to her own ears, she sounded unconvincing.
    â€œI thought it would be better if you didn’t come down to the station again,” Galton murmured. There was a sadness, a regret, in his voice. He too was remembering the days he had swung her up in the air.
    Catherine gave up trying. She had done her best, had cleared herself as thoroughly as she could. There was something, or perhaps several things, that Galton wouldn’t tell her. He had obviously figured she would be more open in her own home, in a private conversation; he had made a concession to her in that respect. Somehow she had failed to meet his standards.
    â€œI don’t know what you want me to tell you. I honestly think”—Do drag in “honestly,” Catherine!—“I have told you what little I know. And I think what happened to Leona is directly related to what happened to my parents. I don’t blame you for never finding out about them,” she added hastily. “I know you were a good friend to my father.”
    She had touched him on the quick. She wondered if she had meant to.
    â€œI tried,” said Galton bitterly. “You’re damn right I tried! But I know why Leona Gaites was killed: she was a blackmailer, and something else too. And that doesn’t have anything to do with Glenn and Rachel.”
    He sat silent for a moment, visibly collecting himself. He looked so sad and worn that Catherine was unwillingly moved.
    â€œYou need some rest,” she said shortly.
    â€œIt’ll be a while before I get any,” he said.
    He rose, stretched, ambled to the door.
    â€œCatherine,” he said, one hand on the knob, “Why didn’t you leave town, honey? What’s kept you here?”
    â€œYou know, I’ve asked myself that just recently,” she said. “I only found out yesterday. When I was telling Tom Mascalco what happened to Mother and Father. I want the person who did it to be caught. And I want him to be dead. That’s why I stayed.”
    â€œThat Mascalco’s a pest,” said Galton. “His idea of his job is