beginning another recitation of the events of Thursday night.
“You didn’t mention, this time, that you were the one to persuade him to wait in the library where the book club was meeting?” Officer Craig looked up from her notebook.
“Didn’t I? I thought I did.”
“You said, ‘We asked him in.’ In your statement you said”—she paused to read from her notebook— “‘I asked him in.’ Which is it?”
Lizzie thought a moment. “It was me. I asked him in.”
Officer Craig nodded. “Why did you do that?”
“Why? Because I wanted Bob Miller to get a look at him.”
“Why do that? Did you suspect Mr. Telford of something? Did you have prior knowledge of what he was doing there?”
“No. Of course not. I’d not met the man before. I just thought it odd he was so bold.”
“So, it wasn’t anything specific?”
“No. Just a feeling, a hunch maybe.”
Officer Craig paused in her writing and sat quietly, looking at Lizzie.
She’s trying to rattle me. I don’t have anything to hide. I wish she’d stop that.
“And you still claim you didn’t know the deceased and hadn’t seen him before?”
Lizzie stiffened. She really didn’t like Officer Craig’s tone. “It’s not a claim. It’s a fact. Has the chief found out yet how Telford got hold off Molly Mathews’s gun?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss anything about the case, especially what the chief may or may not be doing.”
She stood up abruptly and tucked her notebook into her pocket.
Lizzie felt desperate for some information. “Are you any closer to finding the killer?”
“Miss Turner, what do you not understand about what Ijust said? That’s all for now. I will be getting back to you at some future point, though.” She nodded, placed her hat back on, taking care not to disturb her bun, and left.
Lizzie now knew exactly how Molly had felt. She wished she hadn’t been so dismissive when talking to her at lunch. If all the book club members were going through the same thing, she needed to talk to them. Maybe one of them could deduce something from the various interviews and questions. Or, maybe someone had actually been told a piece of information that might help.
She soon found out that late Sunday afternoon was not a good time for catching people in. So, the calls could wait till later. Maybe she just needed to chill out for a while, put Officer Craig and Chief Dreyfus totally out of her mind. She found a jar of almond butter tucked in back of the condiments shelf in her kitchen, where she thought she might use it less and therefore cut down on the added calories and cost. But not today. She’d just dipped her spoon in for a second mouthful when the phone rang. Caller ID announced Sally-Jo.
“I see you called but didn’t leave a message,” Sally-Jo said without preamble. She often left out the salutations and good-byes. Her own form of shorthand.
“I did call but rather than leave a message, thought I’d call back later. You just get in?”
“Yes. Jacob just dropped me off. We drove out to the Wilkins Farmstead for tea. Just thought I’d throw that all in before you asked.”
“Ah. A nice time, I’d imagine?”
“Very. And yes, I did call him yesterday and he went to the cop shop with me, then I treated him to a drink and we had dinner together. Dutch. Period. Stop. Nothing else happened last night.” Lizzie could hear Sally-Jo pouring herself a drink of something.
“But it was a nice time, too— I’m just guessing now,” Lizzie couldn’t help but add.
“And you’d be right. So enough of my platonic dating life. What’s on your mind?” Sally-Jo asked.
“First of all, tell me about your police interview. Who spoke to you?”
“You mean who interrogated me. It was Officer Amber Craig. And she really gave me the third degree. Everything except the rubber hoses.”
“Why? What can she possibly imagine you’d know about the murder?”
“Search me. But she’s suspicious since I’m a
“You didn’t mention, this time, that you were the one to persuade him to wait in the library where the book club was meeting?” Officer Craig looked up from her notebook.
“Didn’t I? I thought I did.”
“You said, ‘We asked him in.’ In your statement you said”—she paused to read from her notebook— “‘I asked him in.’ Which is it?”
Lizzie thought a moment. “It was me. I asked him in.”
Officer Craig nodded. “Why did you do that?”
“Why? Because I wanted Bob Miller to get a look at him.”
“Why do that? Did you suspect Mr. Telford of something? Did you have prior knowledge of what he was doing there?”
“No. Of course not. I’d not met the man before. I just thought it odd he was so bold.”
“So, it wasn’t anything specific?”
“No. Just a feeling, a hunch maybe.”
Officer Craig paused in her writing and sat quietly, looking at Lizzie.
She’s trying to rattle me. I don’t have anything to hide. I wish she’d stop that.
“And you still claim you didn’t know the deceased and hadn’t seen him before?”
Lizzie stiffened. She really didn’t like Officer Craig’s tone. “It’s not a claim. It’s a fact. Has the chief found out yet how Telford got hold off Molly Mathews’s gun?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss anything about the case, especially what the chief may or may not be doing.”
She stood up abruptly and tucked her notebook into her pocket.
Lizzie felt desperate for some information. “Are you any closer to finding the killer?”
“Miss Turner, what do you not understand about what Ijust said? That’s all for now. I will be getting back to you at some future point, though.” She nodded, placed her hat back on, taking care not to disturb her bun, and left.
Lizzie now knew exactly how Molly had felt. She wished she hadn’t been so dismissive when talking to her at lunch. If all the book club members were going through the same thing, she needed to talk to them. Maybe one of them could deduce something from the various interviews and questions. Or, maybe someone had actually been told a piece of information that might help.
She soon found out that late Sunday afternoon was not a good time for catching people in. So, the calls could wait till later. Maybe she just needed to chill out for a while, put Officer Craig and Chief Dreyfus totally out of her mind. She found a jar of almond butter tucked in back of the condiments shelf in her kitchen, where she thought she might use it less and therefore cut down on the added calories and cost. But not today. She’d just dipped her spoon in for a second mouthful when the phone rang. Caller ID announced Sally-Jo.
“I see you called but didn’t leave a message,” Sally-Jo said without preamble. She often left out the salutations and good-byes. Her own form of shorthand.
“I did call but rather than leave a message, thought I’d call back later. You just get in?”
“Yes. Jacob just dropped me off. We drove out to the Wilkins Farmstead for tea. Just thought I’d throw that all in before you asked.”
“Ah. A nice time, I’d imagine?”
“Very. And yes, I did call him yesterday and he went to the cop shop with me, then I treated him to a drink and we had dinner together. Dutch. Period. Stop. Nothing else happened last night.” Lizzie could hear Sally-Jo pouring herself a drink of something.
“But it was a nice time, too— I’m just guessing now,” Lizzie couldn’t help but add.
“And you’d be right. So enough of my platonic dating life. What’s on your mind?” Sally-Jo asked.
“First of all, tell me about your police interview. Who spoke to you?”
“You mean who interrogated me. It was Officer Amber Craig. And she really gave me the third degree. Everything except the rubber hoses.”
“Why? What can she possibly imagine you’d know about the murder?”
“Search me. But she’s suspicious since I’m a
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