“Crime Stoppers. Ask Kathleen Abbott about the red nightgown and her visit to Daryl Murdoch’s cabin on Pontotoc Road Wednesday night.”
Anonymous caller spoke in a husky whisper. Unable to determine sex of speaker. Tape has been turned over to laboratory for analysis.
As a ghost, thankfully I wasn’t subject to physical manifestations of distress such as palpitations or difficulty breathing. Nonetheless, I was shaken by the realization that Kathleen’s involvement in Daryl’s murder must have been the calculated objective of his murderer. Of that, there could now be no doubt. Daryl’s demise on the back porch obviously had been planned from the start. Last night, a call brought 109
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the police to the rectory back porch in search of the gun. Now an anonymous call threatened to embroil her further. How had anyone known about the red nightgown?
No wonder I was still here.
Chief Cobb leaned back in his chair, lips pursed in a sound-less whistle. He reached toward the phone. His hand dropped. He snagged a stenographer’s-size notebook, flipped to a fresh page. At the top, he wrote Kath—
A sudden knock sounded, and the door to a connecting office swung open.
Colleen’s voice rose. “Excuse me, Mayor Lumpkin, Chief Cobb is in conference.”
“Come now, my dear. We all know these little fictions.” A heavyset blonde appeared in the doorway. Pudgy, crimson-nailed fingers laden with rings clutched the doorframe. Red, green, and gold stones glittered. “I have a little bone to pick with Sam.” She swept inside.
Unseen by the visitor, a plump brunette with a pleasant face looked at the chief and turned her hands up in mute apology.
The intruder closed the door, strode majestically across the room.
She was flamboyant in a vivid purple blouse and ankle-length purple skirt with orange geometric forms. The scarf at her throat was in matching orange. The skirt rippled as she walked. Orange boots tapped on the tiled floor.
Chief Cobb came to his feet, face stolid, eyes glinting with irritation. “Good morning, Neva.”
She ignored the lack of an invitation to sit down and pulled the straight chair around to the side of his desk. With a brilliant smile, she gestured to him as she gracefully settled into the chair. “You are such a gentleman, Sam. Take your seat.” It was a command.
The chief backed to his chair, sat. He placed his hands on his knees as if ready to spring up in an instant. “I’m on my way out.” She gave him another smile, but her eyes were cold. “I am well 110
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aware that you”—she placed a special emphasis on the pronoun—
“are devoted to protecting our liberties. I’m sure you agree that a foremost duty of your law enforcement personnel is to share that commitment.”
The chief made no move in his chair, but I realized he was suddenly alert and wary.
The mayor toyed with the end of her scarf. “Your department should be committed to impartial law enforcement. Justice must be blindfolded or”—she looked as though she awaited applause—“there is no justice at all. I am here this morning to discuss this essential component of our liberties.” Her voice dropped, a public servant confronting a momentous truth. “Personal liberties are at the heart of our nation. That is why I had no choice but to break through the defense of your secretary. I know you must have quiet time to execute your duties, but you should instruct Colleen that treating other city officials—”
The mayor reminded me strongly of the high school principal who’d booted me from the faculty. I might not have been tempted to do what I did had it not been for her ill-natured expression and pursed lips. How like a pig’s snout.
A box of paper clips sat near the in-box on the chief’s desk. I palmed a handful of clips and skimmed just above the floor, coming up behind the mayor.
“—as interlopers is hardly appropriate.” I delicately pulled back the rim of her blouse and dribbled several clips on her dowager’s hump.
She shuddered with the grace of an ice floe cracking.
Chief Cobb looked at her sharply. “Neva?” A meaty hand yanked at the back of her blouse. Her head jerked around.
I expected the pointy little clips were now lodged near her waist.
The mayor wriggled in her seat, took a deep breath. After an-111
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other wary glance behind her, she waggled a chiding finger, zircon flashing. “You will recall”—her gaze was stern though her eyes slid uneasily from one side to the other—“that I spoke to you last week about Officer Leland and her unfortunate compulsion to persecute an outstanding citizen.”
Chief Cobb looked ever more stolid. “Yes.” The mayor glowed with righteous indignation. “I know for a fact that Officer Leland ignored your instructions. You did instruct her?” The last was a sharp, flat demand.
I flung the rest of the paper clips high in the air. As they floated down, many landing in her beehive hairdo, I untied her scarf and tugged.
She came to her feet, holding on and gazing desperately about.
“What’s going on here? Where did those paper clips come from?” She gave the chief a suspicious glare.
I flapped the scarf.
The chief stood. To him, she appeared to be shaking the scarf in the air and lunging forward and back.
I let go.
She lost her balance and crashed down on her chair. Shakily, breathing fast, she pulled the scarf around her neck and tied it, all the while looking sharply in every direction.
“Neva.” He eyed her with concern. “Could I have Colleen get you a cup of tea?”
She shook her head, sputtered, “When did you speak with Officer Leland?” She lifted a hand to brush at the paper clips in her hair.
“Last week.” His tone was irritated. “We straightened everything out. As Officer Leland made clear, Daryl Murdoch never contested the tickets. They were based on infractions of the speed limit and driving regulations. She admitted his attitude irritated her, and that’s why she paid special attention to his driving. I told her she had to avoid the appearance of particularized enforcement and she agreed.” Cobb moved impatiently. “Neva, it hardly matters—” 112
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”Hardly matters?” The mayor’s voice was shrill. She darted puzzled looks at the paper clips in her fingers. “Daryl Murdoch is a leading citizen, a strong supporter of good government, and a personal friend of mine.”
In politics, as Bobby Mac often said, friendship is just another word for money. I wondered how much Daryl Murdoch had contributed to the mayor’s last campaign.
Cobb frowned. “In view of what’s happened—”
”Let me finish, please.” A flush turned the mayor’s sallow cheeks apple red. “I promised Daryl that your officer’s witless pursuit of him would end. Yet”—she leaned forward, one hand chopping as fast as a sous chef ’s knife—“I personally saw her stop his car yesterday afternoon, lights flashing, everything but a siren.” The chief’s dark brows bunched in a frown. “Yesterday? What time?” The mayor looked triumphant. “Right after five o’clock. I was leaving our lot. I stopped and watched. She came up to his window and leaned down in a most menacing fashion.” I nodded. That explained the picture in Daryl’s cell. Had he taken it intending to show his friend the mayor? It was too bad I didn’t have the cell with me. I would poke it into the thickest portion of her beehive hairdo. I looked about for something that might work.
“Five o’clock.” Chief Cobb’s spoke in a considering tone. “Probably not close enough in time to be helpful.”
“Helpful?” The mayor glared, all pretense of civility gone. “How can it be helpful when a police officer disregards her superior’s instructions?” And, of course, made the mayor look ineffectual.