Death Takes The Blue Ribbon (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries Book 6)

by Teresa Watson

  “I loved him so much,” she said, holding his hand tightly in hers. “We’ve been together since we were eight. I…I’ve never gone a day without seeing him.”

  “Why don’t we go down to the station so we can talk?” T.J. replied, helping her to her feet. “I’m sure Ms. Crenshaw has advised you not to talk until you have a lawyer.” Gladys nodded. “That’s very good advice, ma’am. She’s absolutely right. You can sit in Sheriff Greene’s office until your lawyer shows up.”

  “Could she at least change into something more presentable?” Iris asked.

  “Of course, that’s fine. No rush.”

  Iris helped Gladys down the hall as T.J. turned to me. “Have you already contacted someone for her?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t had the chance, and to be honest, I don’t know a criminal attorney.”

  “You better find someone for her quick. I don’t know how long Owen is going to let her sit in his office before he starts to get antsy.”

  There was only one person I knew who had contacts everywhere: Jake. “Tell Gladys I will get her an attorney just as fast as I can.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thank you for treating her so kindly.”

  “Owen wanted me to clap her irons and haul her down to the station,” T.J. said. “It took us ten minutes to convince him otherwise.”

  I nodded and walked over to the door, but turned around just as my hand touched the knob. “By the way, you should know there are no rhubarb plants in the Norwells’ garden. Harold hated the stuff. Gladys said that the last time she had rhubarb in the house was last year.”

  “So someone planted the stuff in the trash can and on the table?” T.J. sounded incredulous.

  “That’s your job to figure out, Deputy. Mine right now is to get my archenemy an attorney so I can keep her out of jail.” I opened the door and walked out, closing it behind me.

  As I walked toward the car, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Jake. “Hey doll, what’s up?” he said when he answered.

  “Don’t call me doll. Where are you?” I replied.

  “I’m at the office, why?”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes. In the meantime, pull out your Rolodex and find a criminal attorney.”

  “Are you being arrested?”

  “No, I’m not. Just do it. Make sure it’s someone who can handle a murder case.” As I hung up, I noticed a gold Cadillac pull up and park behind T.J.’s patrol car. Andrea Martin got out, opened the passenger door and took out a covered dish. As she walked up the sidewalk, T.J. and Gladys came out the door, passing by Andrea as they headed for his car. She stared after them with her mouth hanging open.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in the office I shared with Jake. “I really appreciate this, Stephen. And you’ll be here in an hour, correct? That’s great. Give my best to Marilyn.” He listened for a minute and laughed. “That sounds great. I’ll see if I can scrounge up a date. See you soon.” He hung up. “Okay, I have the best criminal attorney in Dallas County coming down in an hour. Is that fast enough for you?”

  “That will be just fine, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now you want to tell me why I just agreed to sit through one of the most boring dinners known to man?”

  “Gladys Norwell has been taken to the sheriff’s office for questioning.”

  “Son of a…are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I was right there when T.J. showed up at Iris Griswell’s house.”

  Jake grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pencil, and started making notes. “Did he put her in handcuffs right in front of you? What did she say? Did she resist arrest? What exactly are they arresting her for? What about the evidence against her? Do they have a strong case?”

  I just stared at him, at a total loss for words for a minute. “You are unbelievable, you know that? I’m just…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Totally bad. You haven’t changed one bit, Jacob Mathias. All you can think of right now is getting the scoop, all the gory details. What about the woman whose life has been turned upside down?”

  “You mean the woman you hate with a passion?” Jake sneered.

  “You’re right. Most of the time, I can’t stand her. But she needs people on her side at the moment, and I was raised to treat others the way I want to be treated. I may not be able to kill her with kindness, if you’ll pardon the pun, but I can certainly do my best to make sure she isn’t railroaded for something that I strongly believe she didn’t do.” I stood up. “And if you can’t handle that, then maybe you need to go back East where you belong, where that kind of cutthroat attitude gets you places. It’s not going to fly down here, and that is not what this newspaper is going to stand for. And if Dale were here, he would say the same thing.”

  “Oh, I am here, and I do agree,” Dale said from the doorway of the office.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, surprised to see him.

  “You know I never miss the county fair,” he said. “I got into town last night, and heard about Harold. What exactly happened?”

  I started to answer him, but Jake jumped up, came around the desk and stood by us. “I’ll tell you what happened. We have the hottest story of the year literally dropped into our laps, and the woman you left in charge has gone soft. She wouldn’t let me talk to Gladys last night, and now she won’t let me do a story about the woman being taking in for questioning! She even got me to call a criminal attorney for the murderess…”

  “Alleged,” Dale and I said.

  “Fine, alleged murderess. She,” he growled, pointing at me, “is killing this newspaper.”

  Dale looked at me. “Did you really get him to call an attorney for Gladys?”

  I nodded. “I knew he had connections. I certainly don’t know any criminal attorneys.”

  “Well, she’s got you on that one,” Dale said to Jake, who just glared at both of us. “And Jake also has a point.”

  “Ha!” Jake said triumphantly.

  “We do need to run the story, Lizzie. It’s big news, although things like this seem to be happening more now that you’ve come home. It’s our job to let the people of this town know what’s going on around them.”

  “Thank you for proving my point, Dale,” Jake said.

  “However, Lizzie is also right,” he continued. “Gladys may be a royal pain in the behind, but she is still a well-respected member of this community. Nothing has been proven yet, and they could be just doing routine questioning. If that’s the case, then printing a story saying she’s been hauled down to the sheriff’s office is going to make her and us look bad if nothing comes of it. Get the basic facts down, mention the lawyer, but say that he is there merely to look out for the interests of Gladys, and to make sure that the police are doing their jobs.”

  “Not much of a story,” Jake mumbled.

  “No, but you’re getting to tell it,” Dale snapped. “Now, go sit at Bruce’s desk, write it up, get it to the printer and put it on the website.”

  I could tell Jake was mad by the way he stomped out of the room. Dale steered me toward the chairs in front of his desk, and we sat down. “Now, why don’t you tell me everything?”

  For the next few minutes, I did all the talking. Dale reached over and grabbed the legal pad Jake had earlier, and took a few notes. “And Gladys was quite sure about the rhubarb?”

  “Oh yes, she said Harold hated the stuff. I’ve never tried it myself, and after this, I don’t think I’m going to any time soon.”

  “Dorothy made a rhubarb pie once. I’m not sure if it was her cooking or just the taste of the rhubarb itself, but it was awful.” It was the first time since his wife’s death almost a year ago that I had heard him mention her. “I say we sit on this for now. It sounds like this could be an important piece of the case, and it gives T.J. an advantage if the killer doesn’t know about it just yet.”

  “So you think she’s innocent, to
o?”

  He nodded. “I’ve known Gladys my whole life. I remember when we were kids, she would chase Harold all over the playground, trying to get him to play with her. Boys that age…well, we still think girls are icky. But he came around eventually.” He shook his head and laughed. “If there were two people who were more in love than Gladys and Harold, I’d love to meet them.”

  “What about Jake?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you going to talk to him?”

  “About what?”

  “Seriously, Dale?”

  “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him. But he’s not always wrong, Lizzie, and I think you know that.”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I know. But he doesn’t know the people here; he’s an outsider. He wrote a piece last month about a minor fender bender in front of the café, and made it sound like a major collision with injuries. And then there was the article on a major supermarket wanting to build here in town. ‘Big businesses are going to come in, and squeeze out all the small business owners’, when the owner of the supermarket wanted to work with the small business owners to make sure their businesses didn’t suffer because of their plans. Thanks to that article, the owner backed out, and now they’re going to build it in Red Oak.”

  “I see what you mean. But, in his defense, he has helped us build up the advertising.”

  “He’s great at kissing up to people. He knows how to get them to open their wallets, but he doesn’t know how to interact or relate to them. I’ve heard people in town call him a carpetbagger, and I’m not sure that they’re wrong.”

  Dale got up and paced the floor for a minute. “You two have done a marvelous job with the paper, Lizzie. Circulation is up, advertising is up, and we’re starting to show a profit. I have a feeling you’re going to ask me to ask Jake to leave now that things are better.”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “Let me tell you why I think that would be a mistake. You two complement each other perfectly, in a strictly business sense, I mean. He’s good at getting the money, and you’re good at writing the stories. Both go hand in hand. Without one, the other doesn’t mean a thing. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  I sat back in the chair, pouting. “Yes, you’re saying it means I’m stuck with him.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dale walked over and sat down behind the desk. “I’ve been thinking about selling the paper. It’s not really what I want to do anymore.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I said, shocked.

  “Oh, I am, very serious. And I’m thinking of selling it to Jake.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I didn’t get to spend a lot of time dwelling on my conversation with Dale, because Ellen Carpenter, our society reporter, knocked on the door just after he left. “Lizzie, why is Jake sitting at Bruce’s desk, cursing and using your name in vain?”

  Sighing, I stood up. “Because he can’t write the story he wants to write. Instead, he’s stuck writing the story Dale and I suggested he write. And he hates the suggestion.”

  “Well, it must be a doozy, because I heard him say he was going to write the story however he wanted to, and then he suggested a place for you to go and visit.”

  “I’ll just bet he did,” I said as my cell phone rang. “Ask him to come in here a minute, would you please, Ellen? Thanks.” I waited until she walked out and then answered the call. “Hello?”

  “How did you manage to get Stephen Henderson, the top criminal attorney in the entire state, to come down to our little town and represent Gladys?” T.J. said.

  “I didn’t. Jake did.”

  “He did?”

  “Who else do you know who has those kinds of connections? One phone call and a promise to attend a dinner function, and the guy agreed to come down here.”

  “Wow, so Jake has a heart after all.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far at the moment,” I replied as Jake stormed into the office. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be down there in a little while.” Hanging up, I dropped the phone on the desk, crossed my arms, and looked at him. “I understand you’re making a nuisance of yourself out there.”

  “I’m doing exactly what you asked me to do, Ms. Crenshaw,” he said. “I am writing a whitewashed version of a story that should be making news all across the country.”

  “I am not going to run a newspaper that hangs a person out to dry before all the evidence has been gathered and the investigation has been concluded. If that’s the kind of newspaper you want to work for, then my previous statement stands. Go back East to your rich friends who will kiss your butt in the hopes of getting a little money from your father.”

  “That’s hitting below the belt.”

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Too bad. You’re not going to build a name for yourself by smearing the good name of a woman who is innocent. And by the way, that was T.J. on the phone. Your high priced attorney friend is at the station with Gladys.” I picked up my phone and walked toward the door. “Now, I would appreciate it if you would finish the story like we agreed. Nothing more, nothing less.” I held up my hand when he started to protest. “I’m going over there right now to see how things are going. If they arrest her, then I’ll call you. If they let her go, then you publish the story that you’re working on. That’s the deal; take it or leave it.”

  “That seems fair,” he reluctantly agreed. He studied me with a critical eye. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I’m just not going to run a gossip rag, and I’m not going to crucify someone without concrete evidence they deserve it. And if you don’t like that policy, feel free to leave.” I turned around and walked out, leaving him standing in the middle of the office with his mouth hanging open.

  I stopped by Ellen’s desk on the way out. “He won’t give you any more trouble,” I told her. “He’s working on a story about Harold’s murder. Make sure he doesn’t smear Gladys or say anything negative. If he does, take it out and call me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she laughed, giving me a snappy salute. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” I said, “don’t call me ma’am.”

  I stood up and paced the lobby floor again. It had been thirty minutes since I got to the sheriff’s office, and I was getting a bit anxious for Gladys. T.J. had made a brief appearance, but just to get me something to drink and to have me wait out here. Abbie Sinclair, Alan’s wife, was working the front desk this morning. “You’re making me a nervous wreck, Lizzie,” she said. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

  “I’ve spent most of the morning sitting. A little walking around will help burn off some of this nervous energy.”

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the linoleum, and Owen will yell his head off about the expense.”

  “He’ll get over it,” I muttered, glancing at his closed office door. “How long have they been in there?”

  “About forty minutes,” Abbie replied. “The scuttlebutt going around is they found a lot of incriminating evidence at her house. Is that true?”

  “Why ask me?”

  “Alan said you were there.”

  “Just to pick up something that Gladys asked for.”

  “What was it? Some juicy letters from her secret lover?”

  I looked at her, shocked. “Have you been reading those romance novels again? You know they always give you screwy ideas.”

  “I know,” she sighed.

  “Besides, can you imagine Gladys with a secret lover?” Just the mere mention of it made me shudder.

  “Ugh, good point.”

  “They were just some photo albums. Several people have told me that she and Harold were childhood sweethearts.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet!” Abbie said.

  Owen’s office door opened, and Gladys walked out, followed by a tall gentleman in a dark blue business suit. He shook hands with Owen and T.J. “I want to be kept informed of anything you turn up
in the investigation.”

  “You just make sure she’s available to answer more questions when we need her,” Owen grumbled.

  “Of course, Sheriff. My client will cooperate fully with you and your people. Deputy Roosevelt, it was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the kindness you showed Mrs. Norwell. She told me that you were a perfect gentleman.”

  “You’re welcome, Gladys, anytime,” T.J. said to her. He shook hands with the man, and then he and Owen went back into the office and closed the door.

  Gladys stopped in front of me. She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you so much for sending this wonderful young man to help me. Owen was ready to throw me into a cell, but Mr. Henderson pointed out that anyone could have planted that stuff in the trash. The thing was wiped clean, no prints at all. He pointed out that if it had come from my kitchen, my fingerprints would have been all over them. The fact that there are no rhubarb plants in our garden was a point in my favor, but Owen stubbornly said I could have bought some recently.” She shook her head. “He’s just as stubborn now as he was when he was a child.”

  The man standing next to her held out his hand to me. “Stephen Henderson, Ms. Crenshaw. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I can see why Jake is so enamored with you.” I blushed. “He said you are the one who asked him to call me.”

  “I asked him to call a criminal attorney. It was his decision to call you.”

  “Well, I’m glad he did. I’d like to talk to you at some point, go over what happened yesterday at the fair.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost 1 p.m., and I’m starving. Is there a place where we can meet and get something to eat?”

  “There’s a place called the Eat it or Starve Café not far from here in the town square. We can go there.”

  “Wonderful. Now I just need to escort Mrs. Norwell home.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Gladys said. “I’ll call Iris, and she can pick me up. I’m staying with her until they say I can go home again.”