Morning Cup of Murder (6 page)

She arrived at the jail promptly at ten, but there was already a line at the jail visitation window. The same jailer whom she had met yesterday stood at the window, buzzing people through after they answered a couple of questions. At last it was her turn, and she was surprised when the guy offered her a friendly smile.

“Hey, you’re back,” he said.

She gave him what she hoped was a polite smile. She really wasn’t in the mood for small talk, especially not from a guy who still looked pubescent. Were they hiring kids directly from high school now? “I’m here to see…” she began, but he interrupted her.

“You’re here to see your grandmother. I remember.” He looked around and leaned in close to the window. “We treated her well last night. She got her own cell away from everyone else. She was as comfortable as she could be; I checked.”

“Thank you,” Lacy said sincerely, swallowing a lump. Envisioning her precious grandmother spending the night in a jail cell was painful, even if she had been treated well.

“She’s a sweet lady,” the guy said. “Very polite and friendly.”

Lacy nodded, blinking back tears. The guy, whose nametag read “Travis,” cleared his throat. “Go through the metal door and turn left. I’ll buzz them to let her know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Lacy said shakily. She took a deep, steady breath, waited for the door to buzz open, and then walked through, jumping slightly when it clambered shut behind her. She would never get used to that horrible sound.

As she sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, she clasped her hands together to stop their trembling. She wasn’t afraid to be here; she was afraid she would fall apart at the sight of her grandmother in an orange jumpsuit like all the other prisoners. Her grandmother--who hadn’t worn pants a day in her life--now had to wear an ugly cotton pantsuit with a number on it. It was almost too much to bear.

The minutes ticked and Lacy’s anxiety grew.
What’s taking so long?
she wondered.

At last the door opened, but her grandmother didn’t walk through. Instead it was Travis. He sat down opposite her and picked up the phone. She did likewise and listened as he spoke.

“She’s not coming out,” he said.

Her jaw dropped. “What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”

Travis shook his head. “She said she doesn’t want to visit with you. She said she doesn’t want to talk. She said…she said for you to go away.”

The phone dropped from her hand and she hastened to pick it up, plastering it hard against her ear. “That’s not possible. I need to see her. I
have
to talk to her. Please.”

Travis’s sympathetic look turned pitying. “There’s nothing I can do, Lacy. I can’t make her talk to you.”

Lacy nodded, swiping impatiently at tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, not looking at him to see if he heard her or not. Her hand fumbled with the phone a few times before she finally found the cradle and hung it up.

She stumbled outside and sat hard on the curb. Nothing in life had prepared her for the pain of her grandmother’s rejection. What possible reason could the older woman have for not wanting to meet with her? There was no reason unless she was actually guilty. But, no, Lacy would never believe that. It wasn’t only improbable; it was impossible. Besides the fact that her grandmother was the sweetest woman on the planet, she had no motive. She hadn’t even known the victim.

Maybe her grandmother was embarrassed. After all, she was a very proper and private person who always preferred to keep her troubles to herself. Maybe she felt like Lacy shouldn’t have to deal with the situation.

Yes, that had to be it. Her grandmother was suffering from misplaced pride. Somehow Lacy would have to get a message to her, but how?

“What are you doing?”

She looked up to see Jason in full uniform, staring down at her. The sun was behind him, casting his face into shadows.

“I was trying to see my grandmother,” she said. The memory of last night’s almost kiss gave her a heightened awareness of him, but she begrudged that awareness. She didn’t want to be attracted to Jason. She had no time or interest in romance right now.

“What did you say to Buzz?”

“What?” She frowned up at him, shading her eyes. “Who’s Buzz?”

He pointed toward the jail. “He answers the door.”

“I thought his name was Travis.”

“It is. We call him buzz because he buzzes people in. What did you do to him?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, impatience creeping into her tone.

“He wants to ask you out. He hasn’t stopped talking about you. He asked me if we were an item.” Then, crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned down at her. “Look, Lacy, I don’t know what you’ve been telling people about us, but I think maybe last night gave you the wrong idea. I’m not interested in a relationship.”

She shot to her feet and brushed the dirt off her behind. “Are you out of your mind?” she practically shouted. “I don’t know that guy.” She jabbed a finger toward the jail. “He looks like a teenager; he must be a good six years younger than me. And as for you,” she paused to jab her finger in his chest, wincing when it met with his rock-hard bullet-proof vest, “I have no interest in you, either. You have always thought that every girl in the room adored you, but you have always been wrong about me. I didn’t want you in high school, and I don’t want you now. I don’t want anyone. The only thing I want is to clear my grandmother’s name, get her out of jail, and move far, far away where cops don’t arrest innocent old ladies and high school has-beens don’t think the world of themselves.”
 

To her chagrin, he laughed at her. “I have news for you: high school has-beens always think the world of themselves. That’s universal. Just like the fact that redheads always have fiery tempers.” He reached out to flick an end piece of her hair, but she batted his hand away.

“My hair is not red. It’s strawberry blond. And don’t touch me.” She spun on her heel and stalked away from him.

“That’s not what you said last night,” he said, loudly enough for a group of people on the sidewalk to turn and look at them. She kept going. She wasn’t sure she had ever been angrier or more mortified. By the time she slammed into her car and put on her sunglasses, he was gone. She rolled down the window and sat a few minutes, trying to simultaneously calm down and think of her next move.

Just as her brain was starting to clear, an answer appeared before her. Travis, or “Buzz,” as Jason had called him, walked out of the building and toward his car. Could it be his lunch break already?

She stuck her head out of the window and called to him.

He paused and turned to look at her with a dawning smile of recognition. Throwing his hand in the air, he waved it back and forth. “Hi, Lacy.”

She stepped out of the car and returned his wave. “Hi, Travis. Or do you prefer Buzz?”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I’m on a lunch run. I usually volunteer to pick up the food; it’s a good way to get out of the office.”

“Can I give you a ride?” she asked, leaning casually against her grandmother’s Buick.

“I don’t know. I saw you and Jason together last night.” He glanced over his shoulder uncertainly. Was he looking for Jason?

“Jason and I went to high school together, that’s all. How could I be interested in someone who arrested my grandmother?”
How, indeed?

Travis turned back to her with a smile. “All right.” With a shrug, he climbed into the passenger side of the Buick and buckled his seatbelt.

“Where to?”

“The taco place,” he said.

“Can I ask you a question, Travis?” she asked. She darted him a glance before turning her attention to the road.

“What?” he asked. His tone was wary.

“How old are you?”

He smiled and relaxed into the chair. He was tall; much taller than Lacy’s five feet and two inches. Even though the seat was pushed back as far as it could go, he still appeared folded in half. “Twenty one. How old are you?”

“Twenty five.”

“You look younger,” he said.

“So do you,” she said. He laughed.

“I knew your sister,” he said.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Hmm.”

“Where is she now?”

“
New York
,” Lacy said. The words left a bitter, acrid taste on the back of her tongue.

“That suits her,” Travis said. “Riley was a year ahead of me, but she was one of those girls you knew was destined for greater things.”

“Hmm,” Lacy repeated. Blessedly, they arrived at the taco place and placed an order. As they waited for their food to be handed through the window, Lacy screwed up her courage. “Travis, what do they have on my grandmother?”

“Oh, I’m not, I mean, it’s not really…Didn’t Jason tell you?”

“Jason said he’s a peon who doesn’t handle investigations,” she hedged.

“Jason lied. He’s next in line for a promotion. Everyone knows when Brenner retires Jason’s going to be the next detective.”

“Are you going to get out of the jail and go on patrol?” she asked.

He shrugged. “That doesn’t appeal to me so much. I think I’m a lifer in the jail.” He sagged in his chair, staring dejectedly out of the window. It must be hard for a man to realize he wasn’t cut out for a dangerous lifestyle, she thought.

“Doesn’t the jail have a sergeant?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“You could be the jail sergeant. You would be good at it.”

He perked up. “You think so?”

“I do. You’re efficient and compassionate; that’s a rare combination.”

He turned to stare out the side window, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It was the pie.”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“The pie. They found your grandmother’s prints on a banana cream pie, and a witness placed her at the scene.”

Lacy felt like all the air had been sucked from the car. Yesterday morning before she left, her grandmother had been baking a banana cream pie. Since she was always baking something, Lacy assumed it was for a funeral. “Why would the presence of a pie be enough for an arrest?”

Travis turned toward her again. “There were two pie plates and a knife. The woman was stabbed, and there were pieces of banana and whipped cream around the wound. A couple of witnesses saw your grandma deliver the pie and go inside. A few hours later, the woman was found dead.”

“But dropping off a pie is a friendly gesture. Why would anyone drop off a pie, stay to eat, and then kill the person? That doesn’t make any sense.” She faced forward, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to tell you something about Detective Brenner,” Travis said. “Something off the record: he’s a lazy jerk. He jumps to the most obvious conclusion and then does as little work as possible to make the evidence fit his foregone conclusion. The situation is bad for your grandma, Lacy. The best advice I can give you is to hire a good lawyer. Maybe that Ed McNeil guy. He’s smarmy, but he gets the job done.”

Lacy’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the dreaded name. “I’ll think about it.” Their order came up. She grabbed the bag and handed it to Travis. They were silent on the short drive back to the jail, but when they pulled into the lot he made no move to get out.

“Thanks, Travis. It was really nice of you to give me that information. I’m going to do my best to clear my grandma, and every little bit helps.”

He smiled sheepishly, blushing faintly at the compliment. She blinked at him in surprise. He was no Jason, but he was cute. How was it possible that she, ordinary Lacy Steele, had made a guy blush?

“Lacy, I know you’re sort of swamped right now, but maybe when this blows over we could go out sometime?”

“Thanks for the offer, Travis, but I just got out of a really serious relationship. I’m not ready to date again. And, to be honest, you’re a little young for me.”

“Four years isn’t so much,” he said.

“It is when I feel like I’m ninety. The last few years haven’t been the best of my life. But I’m always looking for a friend.” She smiled to gentle her rejection.

He smiled in return. “Maybe you’d better tell Jason you’re not interested. He’s staring at us through the patrol room window.”

She fought the urge to turn and look. “What’s he doing here, anyway? He doesn’t usually come in until noon.” She tried to subdue her own blush at the realization that she had Jason’s schedule memorized.

“He’s working overtime.” Travis opened the door and stepped out. “See you Lacy.”

“See you, Travis,” she said. She waited until he closed the door and stepped onto the curb before she allowed herself to look toward the patrol room. She couldn’t see Jason, but she did see the rustling of the mini blinds as they settled back into place.

Chapter 6

Six hours later, Lacy arrived home exhausted and drained. She had spent the afternoon interviewing Barbara Blake’s neighbors as well as her grandmother’s group of friends. Then she called and harassed Detective Brenner’s secretary until she put her through to the detective. He had been surly and hateful, giving her only the sketchiest of details in the case, but it had been enough for Lacy to write the story for the paper and make her three o’clock deadline.