store.
“No, don’t think so, have you?”
“No, I ain’t never heard of it. There’s six dating back to October. It’s printed up in Forsyth. Think I’ll check it out.”
Hilda looked at the subscription label addressed to Brock Blackson, P. O. Box 451, River Town, GA 31218. Is that his office address? And who’s it addressed to?”
“Never heard of him, but sounds awfully close to Blake Brockton. Think it was just typed wrong, just a mistake? That P.O. number could be addressed to his business, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Hilda said. “Check it all. See if they still have the form, who paid the bill, you know what to ask. Might be a mistake, but might be more an intentional mistake! Let’s see what else is being delivered to that box!”
“Yeah, Well, I’m gonna sit here a minute and see what we got. They look like they’ve been well read. See how some of the pages here are dog-eared.”
“Well, I’m going back up front. See if I can tell anything about that blood splatter. I’ve just never seen that much blood before, have you?”
“Not really, just when I’s a kid, on the farm. I saw a bad accident, won’t never forget it. It was bad. Not from a gunshot though!”
“Might need to get more help on this case, Jaz. I have some contacts from that team in Brunswick. Would you have any objection?”
“‘ Heck no. Let’s get this thing solved. If Mrs. Brockton did it, we need the evidence. If she ain’t guilty, she don’t need to be sitting in jail, and whoever did it does!”
Hilda loved the way Jasper talked. He was a good ole down to earth man. He loved his job. Always on the side of right, and it didn’t matter as long as truth was the victor. She liked that about him. He didn’t have any hidden agenda or bone to pick with anybody.
“Oh, Jasper, about that top shelf. Let’s get a photo and get the crime scene guys back out here. Think they missed a big clue. You found it. You make the call, okay.” Jasper pulled out the cell phone he very seldom uses, and never answers, and pushed pound one to dial the station.
“ I still don’t see how they missed it, and none of this mess in the kitchen was here earlier. Ask them about that. Who made this mess anyway?”
Chapter 8
“What is your problem, Jenny? I am not having an affair with anybody, let alone, Sammi Brockton. Don’t know why you’d even think that!” The last thing Jess wanted was to come home to World War III. Jenny blasted him with questions and crazy statements from the moment he opened the door of their tiny two-bedroom duplex apartment.
“Well, if you saw your eyes every time you mentioned her name, you’d know why. She’s nothing but a show-off. She rolls into town one day, gathering up men like they’re her toys or something to carry around. Then when she gets tired of them, out they go to the trash or in this case to the morgue!”
Jess thought, sure my eyes ligh t up, she’s a gorgeous woman. She’s soft, maybe too tense, kind, considerate. She’s the opposite of you!
“ Gathering up men? What? Sometimes you don’t make sense. You never make sense when you get like this. Mrs. Brockton is a client, that’s all. Do you have affairs with the men who come in for a manicure?” I can’t give myself away, yeah, maybe I have a crush on her, but that’s a long way from an affair!
“Why do you ask that?” Jenny began to back pedal. She didn’t know what Jess knew, and he certainly had never asked her questions like this before. No one knew her history with Blake or anyone else, she hoped. Just because we had an affair for a while a very long time ago and maybe a few other times we’ve been together doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with him now. And I won’t ever again.
“Well, it’s the same thing. She’s a client. We have a relationship sure but not a sexual one. For crying aloud, Jenny, not even an emotional one. I don’t half listen to what she says when she’s
“No, don’t think so, have you?”
“No, I ain’t never heard of it. There’s six dating back to October. It’s printed up in Forsyth. Think I’ll check it out.”
Hilda looked at the subscription label addressed to Brock Blackson, P. O. Box 451, River Town, GA 31218. Is that his office address? And who’s it addressed to?”
“Never heard of him, but sounds awfully close to Blake Brockton. Think it was just typed wrong, just a mistake? That P.O. number could be addressed to his business, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Hilda said. “Check it all. See if they still have the form, who paid the bill, you know what to ask. Might be a mistake, but might be more an intentional mistake! Let’s see what else is being delivered to that box!”
“Yeah, Well, I’m gonna sit here a minute and see what we got. They look like they’ve been well read. See how some of the pages here are dog-eared.”
“Well, I’m going back up front. See if I can tell anything about that blood splatter. I’ve just never seen that much blood before, have you?”
“Not really, just when I’s a kid, on the farm. I saw a bad accident, won’t never forget it. It was bad. Not from a gunshot though!”
“Might need to get more help on this case, Jaz. I have some contacts from that team in Brunswick. Would you have any objection?”
“‘ Heck no. Let’s get this thing solved. If Mrs. Brockton did it, we need the evidence. If she ain’t guilty, she don’t need to be sitting in jail, and whoever did it does!”
Hilda loved the way Jasper talked. He was a good ole down to earth man. He loved his job. Always on the side of right, and it didn’t matter as long as truth was the victor. She liked that about him. He didn’t have any hidden agenda or bone to pick with anybody.
“Oh, Jasper, about that top shelf. Let’s get a photo and get the crime scene guys back out here. Think they missed a big clue. You found it. You make the call, okay.” Jasper pulled out the cell phone he very seldom uses, and never answers, and pushed pound one to dial the station.
“ I still don’t see how they missed it, and none of this mess in the kitchen was here earlier. Ask them about that. Who made this mess anyway?”
Chapter 8
“What is your problem, Jenny? I am not having an affair with anybody, let alone, Sammi Brockton. Don’t know why you’d even think that!” The last thing Jess wanted was to come home to World War III. Jenny blasted him with questions and crazy statements from the moment he opened the door of their tiny two-bedroom duplex apartment.
“Well, if you saw your eyes every time you mentioned her name, you’d know why. She’s nothing but a show-off. She rolls into town one day, gathering up men like they’re her toys or something to carry around. Then when she gets tired of them, out they go to the trash or in this case to the morgue!”
Jess thought, sure my eyes ligh t up, she’s a gorgeous woman. She’s soft, maybe too tense, kind, considerate. She’s the opposite of you!
“ Gathering up men? What? Sometimes you don’t make sense. You never make sense when you get like this. Mrs. Brockton is a client, that’s all. Do you have affairs with the men who come in for a manicure?” I can’t give myself away, yeah, maybe I have a crush on her, but that’s a long way from an affair!
“Why do you ask that?” Jenny began to back pedal. She didn’t know what Jess knew, and he certainly had never asked her questions like this before. No one knew her history with Blake or anyone else, she hoped. Just because we had an affair for a while a very long time ago and maybe a few other times we’ve been together doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with him now. And I won’t ever again.
“Well, it’s the same thing. She’s a client. We have a relationship sure but not a sexual one. For crying aloud, Jenny, not even an emotional one. I don’t half listen to what she says when she’s
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