“Not yet. Chief’s got some ideas about the perp. Just got to get a case together before he moves in.”
I leaned forward, losing my fake nonchalance really quickly. “And that perp is…?”
He grinned, chewing, and those darn eyes actually sparkled mischievously. I also noticed one eye tooth—on the left side—was slightly, adorably, crooked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Actually, yes. That’s why I’m asking.”
He took another large bite. So long to the shy, uncomfortable Brooks who nervously glossed over his reason for leaving Kansas City. This was the Brooks who pretended to be in the market for a toaster and who stood behind my car. Brooks the Babysitter. He looked absolutely thrilled to be having this exchange.
“Sorry, no can do.”
“Excuse me?” Suddenly I didn’t want those last three onion rings at all. “I thought that was the whole purpose of this meal. So we could share leads.”
He shook his head. “Miss Bisbee, you’re the press. You’re exactly the person my boss does not want to have information about our leads. I can’t tell you any more than I already have.”
I wadded up my napkin. “So the reason we’re having burgers is to keep me out of Chief Henderson’s hair.”
He turned his palms up. “I mean, not entirely. I did share with you.”
I tossed my napkin at him. It bounced off his chest. “Uh-huh, not entirely. I can’t believe I fell for it. I actually thought you were too decent to play me like that. Guess I was wrong.” I pushed away from the table and stood.
“Come on, now, Hollis,” he said. “It’s not like that at all. I’m not playing you. I’m really not.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find out the truth on my own,” I said as I walked away. “You can’t mess with freedom of speech.”
“You didn’t share anything with me, you know,” he called to my back. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Not true, I thought. I gave you my trust. And look where that got me. The thought made me pause briefly, then I pushed through the door and headed back toward the pharmacy parking lot.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Mike, the kids, and a homemade ramp woke me up bright and early with the repeated warning call of, “Car!” Then the sound of boards dragging and being dropped, a soft whoosh of an automobile, the sound of boards being dragged and dropped again, and the clunk-clunk of various bicycles, scooters, and skateboards on said boards until, “Car!” again.
With every clunk-clunk, I mentally revisited the words—thump-thump—of the sole witness of Coach Farley’s hit-and-run. Who did Mary Jean say she was? Agnes Tellerman? To hear Mary Jean tell it, Agnes was both a crier and a liar. According to Brooks, she was a chronic witness, and pretty paranoid. Either way, the narrative surrounding Agnes Tellerman was that she was not someone to be trusted with something like witnessing a crime. Plus there was the ban Mary Jean had issued against talking to her. But with Brooks and Chief Henderson doing everything they could to keep me in the dark, I wondered where and how I could get a hold of Agnes, and how I could keep Mary Jean from finding out about it. I had a feeling Agnes could be trusted with more than anyone gave her credit for. But I also had a feeling that Mary Jean would be really angry if I defied her direct order to leave Agnes alone.
Brooks had mentioned the witness during our short, disastrous meeting at FastNHotz, but I’d neglected to ask if they’d interviewed her again after the accident. I was guessing the answer was no. Or at least that was what I would be told, whether they actually had or not.
And what about Evangeline? Was the chief right about the hair net? Was it something that had just happened to be rolling around in the parking lot and found itself in the middle of a crime scene? Possibly. Probably. But what if it wasn’t? Would it be worth it to visit the concession stand—snack shop—for a third time? Every lead, no matter how small, was worth following up. That was what I had been taught, anyway.
I needed to catch Daisy up on everything that had happened.
If Mike and the kids were outside playing at 7 a.m., it was certain that Daisy was out delivering muffins, so I showered, got dressed, and went to the Hibiscus.
As expected, she was already there when I arrived.
“Isn’t it something that we have to leave our houses and come all the way over here to see each other?” she said when I came in and plunked myself down on the counter stool closest to the dessert case—what I liked to think of as my stool. Huh. Somehow, without my noticing, I’d become a regular in the town diner. “Can’t get a second alone in that circus.”
“Do your children ever sleep?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Muffin?” She handed me a muffin the size of a small human’s head. “You’ll never guess the flavor.”
“Definitely looks like lemon poppyseed.”
She beamed. “Ding ding ding! To go with the Knock ’em Dead theme of the month!” She pulled out another muffin and toasted our success by knocking it against mine. “Cheers! To murder and muffins!”
The man sitting next to me snapped his fingers and pointed at Daisy. “I knew it!”
We both jumped. I dropped my muffin and it bounced off the counter and onto the floor. Daisy frowned again, but simply proffered another.
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
He shook his finger, pointing at each of us in turn. “I’ve been trying to figure out where I’ve heard your voices before, and now I’ve got it. Y’all are those pod people. You have that show Esther’s been telling everyone about. My wife listens.”
Daisy and I glanced at each other incredulously. I had barely been sure I’d been uploading our short, ridiculous episodes successfully. It never
