Read Online A Judgment of Whispers by Sallie Bissell - Free Book Online Page A

off to check on some bulldozers on the girl’s old street. The stray dog he was taking to the pound dug up a pair of underpants with Teresa’s name on them.”
    Mary lowered her pencil. “You’re kidding.”
    â€œNo. But the capper is that the old detective who’d worked that case was wandering around that Ugly Adama tree … ”
    â€œ Undli Adaya ,” she corrected. “It killed one of Desoto’s scouts. They say there’s a Spanish helmet up in the branches.”
    He frowned. “The tree killed a Spanish scout?”
    â€œSo say my ancestors. Probably the Spaniard got drunk and ran into it.”
    â€œYeah. Anyway, this old cop claimed he wanted to have a look at the neighborhood before they built that new development.”
    â€œAnd maybe plant some evidence he’d been withholding? Get something off his chest before he kicks the bucket?”
    â€œThat’s Cochran’s take. Whaley’s not so sure.”
    Mary looked at him, even more surprised. “Hang ’em High Whaley’s squirting the milk of human kindness?”
    â€œWhaley and this old guy were partners back then. Lead detectives on the case. Grandpa could recite every detail of that homicide like it happened last week.”
    â€œSo you took the underpants to the lab in Winston?”
    He nodded. “Handed them over myself. They’re trying to date them. If they’re new, then it’s probably some sicko’s idea of a joke. If they’re original, then it’s a whole different ballgame.”
    â€œNo kidding,” said Mary. She was about to ask Victor when he expected results back when her work phone buzzed. “That’s odd,” she said, reaching for the thing. “Work doesn’t usually ring on Sunday morning.”
    She cleared her throat. “Mary Crow,” she answered in as professional a voice as she could muster. After a long pause, a soft voice came on the line.
    â€œMary? This is Grace Collier.”
    Mary sat up straighter in bed, looking at the campaign signs she’d brought home from the breakfast. “Grace, how are you? I’m sitting here admiring those incredible signs you designed.”
    â€œI’m okay,” Grace said, then came another pause. “Well, actually I’m not so great.”
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œThere’s a situation with a family member.” Grace spoke in a hush, as if she were afraid she might be overheard. “It’s been going on for a long time … ”
    Mary pictured the pretty woman who always wore her shirts long-sleeved and buttoned to the wrist. She’d seen it before, far too many times in Atlanta. Someone was abusing Grace and she didn’t want the bruises to show. Maybe that was why she’d been so passionate about Mary’s stand on domestic violence.
    â€œThe police were here yesterday … ”
    Mary was about to ask what exactly had happened when Victor’s phone rang. He rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom to answer it, closing the door behind him.
    â€œI really need to talk to a lawyer,” Grace was saying. “Could you possibly come over to my house this afternoon?”
    Mary had planned a slow day with Victor, but with both their work phones ringing, that now seemed unlikely. “Sure,” she told Grace. “Where and what time?”
    They agreed to meet at two. Mary scribbled the address down on the back of the Turpin report. “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll see you then.”
    She clicked off about the same time Victor did. He strode back into the bedroom, frowning. “Duty called?” she asked.
    â€œYep. How about you?”
    â€œThe same.”
    â€œAnything you can talk about?”
    â€œI’m guessing domestic abuse,” Mary replied.
    â€œRight up your alley,” said Victor. “You got a meeting today?”
    â€œAt two.”
    â€œI’m