expression on his face—“and maybe the work of providence, if your mind runs to that kind of stuff, Susan Flynn wrote the new will Saturday night, took her sister-in-law’s car, and went out to get the will signed. I talked to the witness first thing this morning. I’m going to keep him under wraps. It isn’t healthy to be connected to that will.”
Price walked to a side table with a coffeepot, poured a mug. He held up the pot. “You want some?”
“Yeah.” Cobb blinked as if trying to stay alert.
Price poured a second steaming mug, carried them across the room, handed one to the chief. “Kind of funny that Susan Flynn writes out a will when she knows her lawyer will have one ready with all the fancy language Monday morning.”
Chief Cobb avoided Price’s gaze. “Maybe she had a premonition. Women are funny that way. All we know for sure is that she went out that night.”
“With a redheaded friend.” Price’s voice was carefully expressionless. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his gray wool slacks. “It would be helpful if we could find the friend.”
Cobb paced back and forth. He didn’t look toward Price when he muttered, “The witness was kind of confused about the friend’s name, thought it was something like Floy.”
Price tensed. “Floy? Could it have been Loy?” There was a note of excitement in Price’s voice. “Last time”—he didn’t elaborate on when that had occurred—“her nameplate read
Cobb was equally expressionless. “No point in guessing about things we don’t know. Let’s leave it that Mrs. Flynn’s friend was a redhead.” Cobb glanced at the blackboard. “I’ve got a feeling she may get in touch. Until then, we’ve got other fish to fry. Susan Flynn’s funeral is at ten. We’ll allow time for the service and the reception. They’ll all be at the house. We’ll call around four o’clock, ask everybody who was at Pritchard House Saturday night to come to the station, make it clear they’ll be picked up for questioning if anybody declines. If somebody wants to bring a lawyer with them, that’s fine. Plus we’ll have a nice invitation for Peg Flynn’s boyfriend. Dave Lewis was trying to borrow from Susan to finance a vet clinic and she was having second thoughts. Lewis was there Saturday night and knew Susan intended to change her will. Maybe he decided it would be easier to marry an heiress than ask for a loan. We need to find out if he knew Kim Weaver.”
Cobb moved heavily to the blackboard, weariness evident in his slumped shoulders and slow steps. He picked up a piece of chalk, gave it a bemused glance, then printed in large block letters:
Cobb’s face corrugated in thought. Then, with deliberation, the chalk harsh against the board, he added Kim Weaver’s name to the center right of Susan’s previous heirs. “There’s a line from Weaver to one of them. Last night she followed it right over the edge of the clay pit. It’s up to us to make the connection.” He slapped the chalk into the tray. “Get Johnny Cain up here.”
As soon as the door closed behind Detective Sergeant Price, I picked up a piece of chalk, stepped to one side of the chief’s list of heirs. I hoped Wiggins was fully engaged in Tumbulgum.
Chief Cobb still stood within a foot of the blackboard. The movement of the chalk caught his eye. He blinked, hunched his shoulders, watched.
I couldn’t convey all that I knew in the little time that I expected to have. Ever since my arrival at the chief’s office, there had been a constant stream of officers in and out. Detective Sergeant Price would likely return with Officer Cain in a very few minutes. I cut to the chase.
The door hinge squeaked. Swiftly, I wiped the eraser over what I had written. The eraser and chalk were in the tray by the time Price and Johnny Cain entered the room.
Chief Cobb stared at the smudged blackboard, frozen in shock.
Price stopped so quickly Johnny bumped into him. “Hey, Sam, you okay?”
Cobb took a step toward the door, then wavered unsteadily.
Instinctively, I grabbed his arm to provide support, though I certainly wasn’t strong enough to keep him from toppling.
He jerked his arm free and reeled against the blackboard.
Price thudded across the room, reaching for the chief’s elbow. “Hey, Sam, maybe you need to take a rest. Guess you didn’t get much sleep last night. Why don’t you take a seat?”
Cobb pushed away from the board, shook off Price’s grip. “I’m okay.” He slid a quick look toward the
