by Dixie Cash
The man laughed and extended his hand. “Sorry about that. I’ve had it corrected on the sign. I’m Paul Scurlock.”
“No harm, no foul,” Debbie Sue said, still smiling as she shook his hand. “I’m Debbie Sue Overstreet and this is my partner, Edwina Perkins-Martin.”
“Pleased to meet you, Paul,” Edwina said. “Would you mind if I hit the buffet? I’m so—”
“I just need to talk to you briefly. I have to tell you, this speakers’ schedule has been a nightmare from the beginning—”
“Real snakebite, is it?” Edwina asked.
Debbie Sue sent her a scowl.
“Snakebite?” He gave them a quizzical look. “Um, yes, you might say that. I had you ladies on the schedule for today. But one of the Friday speakers has to leave early. I’ve rescheduled you for Friday and canceled your presentation for today.”
With a plastic smile, Debbie Sue hid the video clip playing in her head of their all-night session of speech writing. It had been for nothing.
“Why, that’s just fine with us, Paul.” Edwina slugged him on the arm. Hard. “We’re planning on staying right up to the end of this rain dance, so we’ll be here.”
“That’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough. Excuse me, would you? I see some other guests I need to greet.”
He floated away, leaving Debbie Sue glaring at Edwina. She knew Edwina. The woman had done that cowboy-talk routine on purpose. “Snakebite? Rain dance?”
Edwina opened her palms and looked wide-eyed. “What?”
Debbie Sue ignored her and sighed. “Okay. So we pulled an all-nighter for nothing.”
Edwina came back with a wide grin. “But, hey, girlfriend. Like you said. No harm, no foul.”
Debbie Sue grinned back. “Fuck you, Ed. Let’s go eat something that came out of a chicken.”
“Sitting between two slices of what used to be a pig. Now you’re talking my language.”
chapter eleven
The banquet room was packed. Sitting even remotely near Dr. Wray was impossible. Debbie Sue could see the captivated expressions on the faces of those fortunate enough to get seats close to him.
“Damn,” Debbie Sue said. “We got here too late.”
“Wait ’til after we’ve eaten,” Edwina advised. “He’s not going anywhere and neither are we. Let’s just enjoy breakfast.”
“You’re right. There’ll be other opportunities.”
The hours after breakfast were taken up with miscellaneous announcements, introductions and speeches. Afterward, the Equalizers loitered in the hotel gift shop, which was filled with every possible interpretation of the New York City skyline.
“This crap’s all made in China,” Edwina complained.
“Everything’s made in China,” Debbie Sue replied. “Most of my truck’s probably made in China.”
Lunch, too, was crowded. Debbie Sue and Edwina had spent too long in the gift shop and were forced to take seats at the back of the huge room. They could barely see Dr. Wray. The sound system in the room was poor and they scarcely heard him, either.
They hadn’t finished dessert before Debbie Sue was on her feet and striding out the door. Edwina trotted up behind her. “Where you going? What’s the rush? I wanted to eat that piece of chocolate—”
“I intend to get a good seat at the afternoon sessions,” Debbie Sue said. “I want to hear about reading body language during interrogation.”
“Hmm, well, the one on blood spatter’s the one I’m waiting for, especially so soon after lunch.”
Suddenly, right in front of them, alone, looking at a magazine at the newsstand, stood the esteemed pathologist Dr. Wray. Debbie Sue gasped. “Oh, my God, Ed. There he is. I’m gonna talk to him.”
She was within a few feet of her target when a stunning brunette at least as tall as Edwina tapped his shoulder and offered her hand to him.
Debbie Sue stopped and waited. With the black-haired woman, who had a definite big-city look about her, the doctor was more animated than he had been with the group who shared his table at breakfast. To Debbie Sue, he seemed to be flirting. Twice, the young woman excused herself and tried to walk away, but both times he took her arm possessively and pulled her back to him.
Debbie Sue hadn’t yet attended the body-language workshop, but she didn’t need a two-hour lesson to discern that the young woman was no longer enjoying the conversation with Dr. Wray. Stepping forward, she said in a loud voice meant to startle him, “Hey, doc, how about an autograph?”
Maintaining his viselike grip on the brunette’s arm, Dr. Wray turned in Debbie Sue’s direction and gave her the head-to-toe. “My, my. I didn’t expect to see so many beautiful women attending this conference.”
Debbie Sue wanted to shiver under his gaze. She felt as if he were looking through her clothes. “I’m not only attending, I’m a speaker.” She flashed her best rodeo-champion smile and offered her right hand to the young woman in distress. “I’m Debbie Sue Overstreet. My partner and I are—”
“The Domestic Equalizers.” The brunette stranger enthusiastically pumped Debbie Sue’s hand.
Keeping a grip on the stranger’s hand, Debbie Sue turned her own attention back to Dr. Wray. “Would you excuse us, doctor?” She pulled the stranger away from the newsstand and the doctor.
“Oh, my gosh,” the brunette gushed. “You and Edwina are my heroes. I’m Celina Phillips, from Dime Box, Texas.”
Lord, this girl had an even more pronounced Texas twang than Edwina.
“Hope you didn’t mind my dragging you away,” Debbie Sue said. “That creep was hitting on you. I’ve seen him on TV about a thousand times. I thought he was something special, but turns out he’s just another creep.”
“I know,” the newfound friend said. “I thought he was special, too. I watch him on TV all the time, too.”
In no time Debbie Sue spotted Edwina standing outside a meeting room’s doorway, reading a flyer. “Hey, Ed,” she shouted. She motioned for Edwina to join her and Celina. “C’mere. I found another Texan.” She turned back to Celina. “I don’t know why it feels so good to run into someone from home, but it does. So, you’re from Dime Box?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Celina said, beaming. “You’ve heard of it?”
“Sure have. I’ve even been in a rodeo not far from there.”
Edwina joined them. “Did I hear you say you’re from Dime Box? I used to date the best-looking sucker from Dime Box. I can’t remember his name, but he had the cutest butt in a pair of Wranglers.”
Celina pressed her hand to her heart, “Edwina Perkins-Martin. I can’t believe it. Ma’am, may I just say what an honor it is to meet you and Mrs. Overstreet?”
“Mrs. Overstreet?” Debbie Sue said. “Please don’t call me that. Ever. Mrs. Overstreet’s my mother-in-law. I’m Debbie Sue. How do you know about us?”
“You’re kidding, right? Everybody in Texas knows about y’all. How you solved the murder of Pearl Ann Carruthers? The way you caught that horse thief in the middle of the night? Why, you’re practically Texas legends. Just like Willie Nelson.”
Debbie Sue shot a glance at Edwina. “Willie Nelson? Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well, I would,” Edwina said. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo while I’m here, and that might just be it. ‘A Texas Legend.’ Whatcha think?”
Celina squealed. “What a great idea. Where are you going to get it?”
“Just hold everything, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “We’ve got a session to attend and I’m trying to get a good seat. Celina, which breakout are you going to?”
“The two of you aren’t speaking now?” Celina asked, thumbing through the program.
“Nope. We got moved to Friday. We’re headed to hear a couple of NYPD detectives talk about body language and what it discloses in an interrogation.”
“I already know everything there is to know about body language,” Edwina said, her hip canted to one side. “You girls want me to show you some?”
“No, we do not.” Debbie Sue took Edwina’s arm with one hand and their new acquaintance’s with the other. She herded both in the same direction. “We’re going to hear some big-city boys give us their version.”
“I’ll bet they didn’t have as much fun learning their method as I did learning mine,” Edwina grumbled.
Celina leaned around Debbie Sue and grinned at Edwina. “Y’all are funny. This is going to be so great.”
The three women gathered handouts at the door of the Big Apple Room and made their way to chairs at the center of the front row.
Two men sat on the stage, one significantly older than the other. Debbie Sue read their biographies. Frank Rogenstein, thirty-five years as a detective for NYPD. His curriculum vitae read like a police “Who’s Who.” He had served on specially formed mayoral committees, had earned just about every award and commendation NYPD bestowed.
“Did y’all read this guy Rogenstein’s biography?” Debbie Sue asked.
“Yep,” Edwina answered. “He looks like the real deal all right, a real New York City slicker’n-shit detective.”
Debbie Sue grew misty eyed. “If only Buddy was here.”
“I’m more impressed with the younger one,” Edwina said. “Read about him.”
Debbie Sue read on. The second man, Matthew “Matt” McDermott’s bio was indeed impressive in a different way. He didn’t have years of experience behind him as a NYPD cop, but, man-oh-man, did he have the foundation laid for a stellar career in law enforcement.
He had earned his college degree while serving in the U.S. Army Rangers. After completing his military tour he continued his education, graduating at the top of his class at NYU, then obtaining a master’s degree in criminal justice. After only three years as a police officer, he catapulted to detective third grade and was clearly on a fast track to whatever sights he set for himself.
“I’ll bet you could tell what Rogenstein had for lunch by looking at his tie,” Edwina said.
Debbie Sue gazed at the older detective, who looked overweight and almost slovenly. The contrast between him and the sharply dressed, well-groomed young detective was so stark, Debbie Sue couldn’t help but wonder why they were on the same bill. Ten minutes into their program, the reason became obvious. The younger man provided the animation and comedic relief for his somber co-presenter.
The audience, primarily male, laughed at the banter, but the women in the audience were clearly drawn to the handsome young detective. All but Celina Phillips. She was scribbling notes at a furious pace, smiling occasionally, but intently focused on the content rather than the speakers. She appeared to be oblivious to the young detective’s charm, as well as to the fact that he had spent the better part of the first half hour of the program trying to catch her eye.
“What’s that all about?” Debbie Sue asked her, glancing down at the copious notes she had taken.
“I’m going to be a private detective someday, just like you and Edwina.”
Suddenly the senior detective announced it was time for a demonstration using an audience member. Detective McDermott left the stage and headed for Celina like a heat-seeking missile. As he came closer, Debbie Sue could see that his eyes were almost as dark as Buddy’s and they showed a mischievous glint. He was tall, at least six three. He had on a blazer, but it was still obvious that he was well built. It might be a tired old cliché, but dammit, he was tall, dark and handsome.
He stopped in front of Celina. “Miss? Would you please help us?”
On top of all of that, his voice was soft and husky and sexy as hell. Debbie Sue laughed at the astonished expression on their new friend’s face.
Celina turned red and stammered and resisted. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t. No—”
“Go, girl!” Debbie Sue pushed her to a standing position.
The minute Celina had walked into the room and spotted the younger of the two detectives, she felt an unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just different. Now, as he led her up onto the stage, it seemed as if all of her blood had rushed to her face. Knowing he was well-versed in reading body language made what was happening all the more unnerving. Was he reading her body language now? Could he see that she was bowled over by him and doing everything possible not to show it?
The young detective thrust the microphone in front of her mouth. “Would you please share with the group your name and where you’re from?”
Celina looked out over the sea of faces. There could be more people in this meeting room than there were residents of Dime Box. “Uh,” she said in a tiny voice.
“And?” The detective prompted with his hand.
“Well…I’m Celina Phillips…And I’m from Dime Box, Texas.”
Titters rippled through the audience. What was so funny?
The detective chuckled, too. “Well, Miss Phillips, I’m going to ask you to have a seat here, in our interrogation room.” He took her by the arm and gently moved her toward a small table flanked by two metal chairs. He pulled one chair back for her to take a seat, then turned to the audience. “You folks in the audience who have pen and paper, would you please number a sheet of paper from one to six? I’m going to ask our volunteer a series of questions. After each question, mark if you think she is lying or telling the truth. We’ll see how much you’ve learned from our presentation.”
He moved to the chair opposite her. “Celina, I want you to answer yes to every one of my questions. No matter what the truthful answer is, just always say yes. Okay?”
Celina squirmed in her seat. She was a terrible liar. She had never been able to tell a lie and get away with it, which was why she always just stuck to the truth. This audience, any audience, would read her like a large-print book.
“We already know your name is Celina,” the detective said, “and that you reside in Texas. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Celina chewed on her lip. “Have we started yet?”
Her interrogator grinned and patted her hand. “Yes, we’ve started.”
Celina looked down at her hand to check for blistering, because his touch felt like a hot iron. “Okay.”
“Are you married?”
She hesitated, realizing all of a sudden that she was required to tell a lie. “Uh…yes.”
“Do you have children?”
“Uh, yes.” At least that lie came easier.
“Are you staying in this hotel?”
“Yes.” That one required no effort at all. Maybe lying wasn’t as hard as she had always thought. Maybe it just took a little practice.
“Do you find me attractive?”
Celina blinked and swallowed hard. These questions seemed to be very personal. But then, perhaps they had to be for the game to work. She looked out to the audience for help, but everyone seemed to be sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Please answer the question.”
Heat crept up Celina’s neck. “Y—Yes.”
“Would you meet me tonight around seven o’clock by the fountain and have dinner with me?”
The room gasped. Celina shot a help-save-me look at Debbie Sue and Edwina. Edwina slapped her knee and gave her a thumbs-up. Celina was confused to speechlessness.
“We’re waiting for your answer,” the detective said softly.
Celina looked into the deep brown eyes across the table from her. Was he serious? Or was this still a game? And was he making fun of her because he thought she was a hick from a small town? She cleared her throat. “Would…would you please repeat the question?”
“Certainly. Will you meet me tonight by the fountain and have dinner with me?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Or, uh, I think I mean yes.”
The young detective grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Thank you, Miss Phillips. You did great.” He turned to the audience again. “Let’s give her a big hand for her participation.”
As soon as the applause died, Celina rose and started toward the steps, leaving the stage. She was confused and strangely disoriented.
Had she just made a date, or was it all a joke? She felt a hand on her elbow and looked up.
“See you at seven,” the detective said softly.
She walked back to her seat dismayed. It had been disclosed to all present that she was single, had no children and was not staying at the hotel. She had fooled no one. Everyone in the room had read her clearly.
At the end of the session, members of the audience surrounded the two presenters, asking questions. Celina followed Debbie Sue and Edwina out into the hallway.
Edwina’s hand came to her forearm. “Heavens to Betsy, girl. That piece of Yankee eye candy asked you out.”
“I don’t think so, not really.”
“Oh, yes he did,” Debbie Sue said. “And you should not go alone.”
“I wasn’t planning on going at all,” Celina said. “Why, I’d look like an idiot showing up at that fountain. Especially if he didn’t.”
“No, you won’t, because we’re going with you.” Debbie Sue gestured at herself and then Edwina.
“That’s right,” Edwina added. “We might have just met you, but hon, you’re a fellow Texan. And you have no business going off with a man you barely know. Especially in New York City.”
“Ed, you sound like her mother,” Debbie Sue said.
“Don’t get all teary-eyed,” Edwina said. “I’ve got selfish motives. I’d like another chance to look at him myself. He’s like my Vic. He’s the kind of man that makes you forget your thighs are too skinny and your boobs are too flat. He just makes you feel like a woman, like you’re the center of his universe.”
“Wow,” Celina said, still dazed. She hadn’t thought of all of that. “I think I can’t wait for seven o’clock.”
The next presentation, conducted by the older detective, was “Blood Spatter at the Crime Scene and What It Reveals.” The accompanying slides were gross enough to entertain a group of preteen boys. Celina found herself shocked at the graphic nature of real homicides. She had never seen such pictures on the NAPI Web site. A tiny doubt crept into her ambition. Did she really have the stomach for detective work?
