Dead Giveaway

They both turned in surprise, the deputy's hand on his weapon.

'Good evening, ma'am. Are you looking for Verna Mae?' the older cop said, apparently nonplussed by my arrival. His uncombed, gray-streaked hair tufted out over his ears, reading glasses sat low on his nose and he had brown eyes that sagged like a basset hound's.

'I'm not looking for her,' I said. 'I know she was murdered.'

'Is that so? How did you find out?' asked the man. I noted a Bottlebrush gold police shield pinned to his shirt pocket.

'What's your business here?' the deputy piped in. He looked about twenty, with chiseled cheeks, a military haircut and biceps the size of world globes.

The older man put a hand on the deputy's arm. 'Now, Glen, this is a friendly town and I'd like to maintain that reputation, if you don't mind. I doubt this little lady came here in the dead of night to cause us any trouble. Are you a reporter, miss?'

'No, sir. My name is Abby Rose and I'm a private investigator.' I started to unzip my bag. 'I can show you my license if—'

'We'll get to that later. I'm Burl Rollins. Chief of Police in town,' he said. 'Your name sounds mighty familiar. Why is that?'

'I left you several messages over the last few days. I wanted to interview you for a case I'm working, one that involved Mrs. Olsen.'

'Hmmm. And now she's departed this life. There's only one case I can think of that involves her and me, and that was a long time ago.'

I nodded. 'Abandoned child.'

'How does that explain what you're doing here?' Muscleman Glen asked. I could tell he was making an effort to be 'friendly' this time, but he didn't quite pull it off.

'Son,' the chief said, addressing the deputy with a stern look. 'You never mind about that. I think your job is to help find Mrs. Olsen's kin. Keep looking through the desk for any contacts while Ms. Rose and I get better acquainted.'

'Yes, sir,' the deputy said. He turned and went back to work.

Despite the attitude, I had to admire Glen's physical attributes. He had the nicest butt I'd seen since... well, since Jeff and I had that long hot shower together the other morning.

Chief Rollins and I went to the kitchen, a room I had not visited the other day. I felt smothered by the overabundance of ornate Victorian furniture in the rest of the house, but the kitchen seemed to calm me, despite the clutter of spice racks, hanging pots and new appliances made to look like antiques. Maybe it was my imagination, but the room still smelled like the blueberry cobbler Verna Mae lovingly watched Will consume.

We sat at a small oblong table draped with a crocheted cloth and I said, 'Could I ask you something that may sound dumb, Chief?'

'Sure.' He smiled. The guy had the small-town charm act perfected, but there was a wariness in his sad eyes. No, sir, Chief Rollins did not fall off the stupid truck. He was sizing me up good.

'Why would you need a search warrant to come in here? I mean, Mrs. Olsen is dead. She can't object.'

He folded his hands on the table, and I noted knuckles thick and twisted with arthritis. Bet he'd have a hard time firing a weapon these days.

'Who said we had a search warrant?' he asked.

'Your wife. I called your house before I came here.'

He grinned. 'Ah. How'd you enjoy talking to the Missus?'

'She's... very straightforward,' I said.

'Aren't you tactful? Good quality for an investigator. As for the warrant, what do you think would have happened if we came barging in here without one and whoever killed Verna Mae was sitting in her parlor enjoying her satellite TV?'

'Oh, I get it,' I said. 'Since the killer stole her purse and keys, maybe even her car, he could have come here to get more stuff. Should have figured that out myself.'

He nodded. 'The police don't ever want to be SOL in court. I've answered your question and now you need to return the favor. Tell me why you're here, Miss Rose.'

'Call me Abby,' I said.

'Okay, Abby. And I prefer Burl as long as we stay friendly. See, friends are honest with each other, isn't that so?'

'We're friends?'

'For now. Why are you here?'

'To talk to you. I suspect you're a busy man and that's why you didn't return my calls.'

He pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket. 'You wanted to discuss the baby case, huh?'

'Yup.'

'If we're gonna go there, first tell me about your interview with Verna Mae the other day—and you don't mind if we save this conversation for posterity, do you?'

He was smiling, but obviously he was working this case, despite the fact that Verna Mae died in Houston. I wondered how Jeff would feel about this small territorial issue.

'I don't mind at all if you tape me.'

He turned on the recorder, and I explained about my visit to Verna Mae and how my client had come with me.

When I finished he said, 'You're telling me your client is that baby I took away from this very house?'

I nodded. 'That baby is now six-foot-ten and plays college ball. His name is Will Knight.'

Burl smiled broadly. 'That Will Knight? Plays for UT?'

'None other.' I needed to get up to snuff on my college hoops. Everyone seemed to know the kid.

'I'll be jiggered,' Burl said. 'You brought him here? To see Verna Mae?'

'Not sure I should have, but yes.'

'You regret it, huh? Guess you figured out what most of us in Bottlebrush know. Verna Mae Olsen never forgot about the kid. Can't say I have either.'

'That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you—'

'Chief Rollins?' The deputy was standing in the entry to the kitchen.

'Yes, son?' Burl said.

'I think I found a place to start.' He was holding a thick business-size envelope. 'It's her last will and testament, sir.'

'I assume you've had a look?' Burl said.

'Yes, sir,' he answered.

'Well? Who gets what? Is it someone we can contact right away?'

'She left everything to a man named William Knight,' he answered.

Burl Rollins blinked then leveled his wise eyes on me. He was not smiling when he said, 'Is that so?'

3

'Don't look at me, Burl,' I said, scrambling to answer while trying to gulp down my surprise. 'I didn't know anything about Mrs. Olsen's will. My client didn't either.'

'You know for sure, do you?' he said.

'What's going on?' the deputy asked.

'Nothing. I'll handle things from here,' Burl said. 'You've been a big help, but you can get back to your regular watch.'

'You'll call HPD with this?' Glen held up the envelope.

'That's right,' came Burl's smiling response. But his gleaming charm was tarnished by a hardness in his voice.