by Teresa Trent
Leo raised an eyebrow. “What do you have to do?”
“I promise, I won’t be long,” I assured him.
“Let her go,” Maggie said from behind us. “I know that look, and it’s best you let her get it out of her system. I’ll go with you to pick up Danny.”
Ruby let out a disappointed sigh. “Well, I guess I won’t be hitting that cruise anytime soon. Such a shame, really. I just bought my first bikini in twenty years.”
Leo held up a hand to stop the beautician before she went into any more detail. “Too much information, Ruby.”
“What? I’m not ashamed of my body. It took years to get it to look like this.” She did a little sashay with a Vanna White swoop at the end.
“I’d like to see you in that bikini,” Lester Jibbets said as he came out from nowhere.
“I’m just sure you would, Lester, but I guess fate has stepped in, and I won’t be going on any cruises,” Ruby said, shutting him down quickly.
When I stopped into Earl’s Java, I was surprised to see it was still open. Earl couldn’t be waiting on customers after what had just happened to Bosco. There wasn’t a soul in the store. I followed the sound of water and found Earl in the backroom scrubbing out a giant coffee urn. He wasn’t just scrubbing the thing, he was taking the finish off of it.
“Earl, are you all right?” I asked gently.
“What do you think? My brother was just murdered. Someone in this town killed him, and you ask if I’m all right. Hell no, I’m not all right.” He went back to scrubbing.
“Do you have any idea who might have killed him?”
Earl stopped again and mopped his brow, a line of sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. “Bosco had a knack of rubbing folks the wrong way. It could have been someone from his time in prison, his business dealings, or someone he crossed in the contest. What can I say? My brother was a real horse’s ass. I guess he got that from our daddy.”
“Earl?” A voice I instantly recognized came from behind us in the coffee shop. My father had come to question him. It was part of the standard investigation to grab the family members first.
Earl put down the plastic scrubber, rinsed the inside of the coffee pot, and headed for the counter. When I emerged behind him, my father gave me a curious look.
“I thought you’d be home by now.” He gave me a look that didn’t hide his annoyance at my meddling.
“I was worried about Earl, and I thought I’d check on him,” I rolled off quickly.
“Uh-huh.” Dad didn’t look convinced.
“Did you talk to Sarah Butler?” I asked.
“I tried to, but it seems she’s sleeping it off. Tyler had already left for your house, and Vic told me to come back later.”
“Did he say anything about the blood on her dress?”
Earl picked up on that. “Blood? Do you think that woman killed my brother?”
My father cast a stern look my way. “That’s nothing but pure speculation at this point, Earl.”
“So, you don’t know who killed Bosco?”
“Not yet. We were hoping you could help us with that. Do you mind coming over to the station?”
Chapter 17
I was a little surprised Dad didn’t push Vic to let him see Sarah, or at least the bloody clothes. There was a little bit of a southern gentleman that made him step back to observe protocol, but still. How did he know Vic wasn’t in the house looking up helpful hints to get blood out of clothing? It isn’t hard. You just have to use a little hydrogen peroxide. After so many years following my father around, that little tidbit of information had come in handy more than once. I wrote that up years ago, and it was greatly appreciated by our local doctors and dentists.
I was also surprised that Vic, a man notorious for people-pleasing, actually said no to someone. Maybe everything that had been going on with his wife was changing him. He had to be feeling a loss of control with her wandering around the streets at night, both awake and asleep.
When I pulled up to Vic and Sarah’s house, I was surprised to see smoke rising from the backyard. I ran through the wooden privacy fence as the smell of burning filled my nostrils. Flames rose up from an outdoor firepit. Vic threw a piece of clothing that I recognized as Sarah’s red dress onto the flames. He was burning the evidence. This proved he believed that Sarah killed Bosco and would go to any length to protect her. Even destroy evidence.
I came closer to the fire. “Vic? What are you doing?”
“Betsy? I didn’t hear you,” his eyes darted to the dress, the stink of the polyester blend material wafting through the air.
“You’re burning Sarah’s dress? I thought you would want to turn that into the police. It might be part of a murder investigation.”
“Don’t say that. Of course, it’s not. Sarah had a cut on her hand, that’s all.” I had held Sarah’s hand and didn’t remember any cuts.
“So why are you burning it? Why didn’t you try to wash it out or at least throw it out?”
Vic shifted, and I could tell he was stalling as he tried to come up with an answer. “I told you, it’s ruined. I don’t see how any of this is your business.” It seemed Vic’s perpetually nice attitude had shifted to a definite chill.
“I’m sorry, it’s just weird, you know. You have to admit it doesn’t look good.”
“You think I’m trying to protect my wife, and well, maybe I am.”
“It certainly looks that way.”
“You don’t understand. She’s…the most beautiful woman in the world. Not only on the outside but on the inside. Her soul is just as incredible as her body. When she agreed to marry me, I thought it couldn’t be real, but she did. If you think I would do anything for her, then you are correct. I would.”
“Even cover up a crime?”
“Of course not.”
“You know I’m going to have to tell my father about your little fire,” I said, thinking someone who would do anything to save their wife might also strike out at someone threatening to tell. Not my smartest move.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t. I know this looks suspicious, but trust me, Sarah could never kill a man, especially in a sleepwalking state. I know I said she could be extremely dangerous, but murder? That’s another thing all together.”
“Can I talk to her?” I asked.
“No. She’s still sleeping.”
“Have you checked on her lately? How do you know she hasn’t wandered off again?” Sarah had gotten by him before, why not now? I thought of Poppy Donaldson. “Was she really the one who pushed Poppy off the bridge? She kept talking about it.”
“No.” His voice, normally on the high side, took a little tonal leap.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Maybe she was talking about it, but that doesn’t mean she pushed her off the bridge. She had been upset by the whole thing, and it evidently slipped into her subconscious. That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had better go check on her. I will trust you will use discretion in this matter?”
“Uh, if you mean I won’t let Rocky print you’re burning a piece of potential evidence, then yes, I will.”
“And your father and the murder investigation?”
“I can’t promise anything. If your wife committed a murder, then I can’t let that go by.”
When I got back home, Maggie was still at the house working in the kitchen. Even though she had to be exhausted, she decided to cook a big supper. “I may as well cook it here rather than go home and just cook for Danny and me. Besides, after all that we’ve seen today, I want to be with the ones I love.”
I was more than happy to let her indulge us with her wonderful home cooking. My refrigerator had been well-stocked, and she took advantage of that, whipping up sour cream enchiladas. As Aunt Maggie worked in the kitchen, I made sure that Coco cleaned up the mess she made in our absence, and with great theatrical pain, she began trudging back and forth to the toy chest, lugging Barbies that had to each weigh ten pounds. If Barb
ies were flesh and bone, there would be some major concussions going on.
Once I was sure Coco would finish her task, I found Leo. I wanted his take on Vic burning Sarah’s dress.
“So, you’re saying that you think Sarah Butler is responsible for two deaths?” Leo asked.
“I don’t know, but as soon as we get the kids eating, I’m going to tell Dad everything, including seeing Vic burning Sarah’s dress.”
“I don’t know, Betsy.” His statement surprised me. Vic was clearly destroying evidence.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Look at this way. If she really is suffering from a neurological ailment, how can anything even be pinned on her? I mean, what is the legal precedent for killing somebody while unconscious?”
Aunt Maggie clunked a pan in the kitchen. We lowered our voices.
“I don’t know what it is either, but that doesn’t mean we can let this mystery go unsolved.”
“Supper’s ready!” Aunt Maggie yelled out two of the most important words in the household around five in the afternoon. Footsteps began tromping her way. Twenty minutes later, as we were just finishing up Aunt Maggie’s delicious enchiladas, my father came knocking at the door.
“Well, this is a surprise,” I said as he pulled up a chair next to Coco.
“I hear you have been in a bit of trouble lately, young lady.” Now, most people would be a little unnerved when a policeman said that to them, but Coco just smiled at her grandfather as she held up a piece of food.
“No, I haven’t,” she said. He smiled at me.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to ask your mom about that and see what she says.”
“No,” she protested.
“That says it all, darlin’.” He laughed.
“Can I get you a plate, Judd?” Aunt Maggie asked.
“Now, that would be right nice.” My father nodded and placed a napkin in his lap. “You’ll be glad to know that I have Sarah Butler coming in to be questioned about the death of Bosco Brown. So, I can only stay a few minutes because Vic and Sarah are due to come to the station in the next hour. Did you want to tell me something about burning evidence?”
“How did you find out about that?”
“It seems my sister is very good at eavesdropping.”
Aunt Maggie raised her hand. “Promise me you won’t get mad, but if Sarah Butler killed that man, then she can’t let her husband cover it up for her. It’s just not right. I know you were going to go talk to your father eventually, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight thinking she’s out sleepwalking looking to murder somebody else.”
“What are you talking about?” Danny said as he came into the room. We had always tried to keep information that would upset Danny quiet, but this time he had overheard.
Maggie waved a dishtowel at Danny. “Oh nothing, baby. Everything is fine. You know I like to pick on Betsy.”
Danny smiled. “We all like to pick on Betsy.”
“Yes, well, I think you’ll sleep fine tonight, Maggie,” my father reassured her, rolling his eyes at his sister’s antics.
Tyler, who had been listening to the entire conversation, finally spoke up. “Do you think she’ll remember anything? I mean, when I’m in like a dream state, I don’t remember anything. It’s just bits and pieces when I wake up. It could be like that for Sarah.”
I couldn’t help but notice that Tyler was now on a first-name basis with Sarah Butler. Had she told him to call her Sarah, or was he thinking about her so much that his manners slipped?
“Well, I guess that’s what I’m about to find out, son,” Dad answered.
“Would you mind if I went down there too?” Tyler asked. “Just in case she needs moral support?” I hated to break it to him, but she had the moral support of a husband who would do anything to protect her, even lie to the police.
I tried to break it to him gently. “I don’t know about that, Tyler. This is a murder investigation, after all.”
Tyler put his hands together in front of him in a prayer-like position. “Please?”
Leo scooped an enchilada out of the pan. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Tyler, who was always quick on his feet, came up with another tact. “What if I have a parent with me? Then if I’m interfering, Betsy or Dad could bring me home?”
My dad drew out a sigh. It was not the first time he had been worn down by a persuasive grandchild. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll go with him,” Leo said.
“Don’t go, Daddy,” Coco said. “I want you here. You still haven’t taught me how to ride without my training wheels.”
It seemed Coco had a new person to badger about her bike lesson every hour. I wasn’t surprised that she was choosing her father over me. Lately, I had been laying the law down to Coco on a regular basis. Daddy, on the other hand, could be a bit of a soft touch, as many fathers were, including my own. Rather than risk a temper tantrum, I volunteered. “I could go.”
“Even better,” Tyler smiled. “If you can’t trust her own daughter, who can you trust?”
And once again, we had catered to the whims of a high school senior and a preschooler at the same time.
Chapter 18
A few minutes later, we found Sarah, Vic, and their lawyer, Ray-Ray Benning, sitting in chairs along the wall of the hallway to the interview room. Ray-Ray, although wild in high school, had turned over a new leaf and was now practicing law in town. I wasn’t surprised to see Vic Butler bring a lawyer to a question-and-answer session. He thought his wife might be guilty. She was now dressed in a white t-shirt that was close-fitting and a pair of white and blue striped shorts that showed off her shapely legs. Even in casual clothes, she looked like a model for Dillard’s.
“Betsy?” Vic said upon seeing us.
“Tyler wanted to come, to give Sarah moral support,” I answered quickly.
“I’m here if you need anything, Sarah,” Tyler’s words were so sweet it left a lump in my throat.
She reached up and patted his hand, her blue eyes flashing to his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
My father cleared his throat as he stepped out of the interview room. “You folks can come on in now.”
Even though Tyler had wanted to comfort Sarah, it seemed the Pecan Bayou police force didn’t keep people waiting long. I knew he would be disappointed, but we couldn’t go into the actual interview. “Tyler just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay. We’ll head home now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tyler argued, planting his feet on the floor.
There was never a force so stubborn as a young man who thinks he’s falling in love. “We can’t go into her police interview with her,” I said.
“I would like it if Tyler was there,” Sarah said. She then acknowledged me. “You can come too, Betsy.”
Vic bristled slightly. “Sarah, dear. They are questioning you about murder. You really want to invite half of the town in to hear all about it?”
Her eyes met his. “Just for a few minutes. Do you mind?”
“What do you think, Ray-Ray?” Vic asked.
“It is highly irregular, but if it makes my client more comfortable, then…what the hell?”
Vic drew in a breath. “If it makes you feel better, then fine. But just for a few minutes.”
After we all found our places, we were each offered bottles of water. After that, Dad punched a digital recorder on the table and began to speak. “This is an interview with Sarah Butler regarding the murder of Bosco Brown. Now Mrs. Butler—”
“Call me Sarah.”
“Sarah,” he corrected himself. “Let me just start with the obvious. Did you have anything to do with the death of Bosco Brown?”
Sarah paled. Ray-Ray immediately put a hand on her arm and began to whisper in her ear. Then he faced my father. “She’s choosing not to answer the question at this time. We are still unsure of what happened because of her illness and so to confess to something today would not be wise.
We don’t even know if she was there and if she was there, she doesn’t know.”
Sarah stared at her own folded hands. “When I get that way, I remember very little. I can see some faces and hear some voices, but everything is blurry like being in a fog.”
“That’s enough, dear,” Vic said. “Judd here knows the information you give will not be consistent.”
Vic unscrewed the top off a water bottle and took a slug. This interrogation had him sweating profusely, and stains were spreading under his arms. Instead of putting the cap back on, he laid it on the table. It reminded me of my boys. At the end of a heavy day of playing video games, I would find a slew of water bottles and caps everywhere.
My father looked perturbed. “Okay. So, what you’re basically telling me is because you were in a sleep state that you really can’t answer any questions? Do I have that right? I’m not even sure why you came in. It is also unusual for a person to come in with their lawyer right off the bat. Speaking from the perspective of a policeman, it does make me a tad bit curious.”
“We do hope you can understand why we have chosen to have legal representation at this questioning,” Vic said. “We want to do anything we can to cooperate, but until we know my wife’s true state of mind at the time, there isn’t any point in answering questions. I hope that’s okay with you.”
That had to be the nicest explanation of why a suspect planned not to cooperate with the police that I had ever heard. Once again, Vic had smoothed things over for his wife. What I wasn’t sure of was how long he could keep doing that. Sarah was literally the smoking gun, or should I say the bloodied dress.
“And that tells me I don’t have a choice,” my father continued. “Even though you cannot remember things because you may or may not have been asleep during the murder, it doesn’t mean that I will not continue to dig through evidence. I hope I’ve made that clear.” From the tone of my father’s voice, I could tell his patience was running thin with Vic and Sarah Butler.
After Sarah, her husband, and lawyer left, my dad leaned on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands. “Well, that didn’t get us anywhere.”
