Seven Sisters - Earlene Fowler [59]
“I’ll try, but Bliss feels so darn responsible. Like she has to protect all of us every minute. We have to do something.” She watched me expectantly, waiting for me to think of something. I felt like screaming, “Who put me in charge of piecing your family back together?” A slight tremble in her hand when she reached up and touched her blue-veined temple caused pity to well up inside me.
“I still haven’t talked to Detective Hudson about all this,” I said. “Or Gabe.” Below us in a cafe courtyard, a group of people laughed uproariously at something. I was tempted to walk away from JJ and this whole situation and join them. “Once I do, it’s out of our hands. Your family’s going to come under some tough scrutiny.”
“I know, and it’s all my fault. I guess I should have gone directly to my mother with that note.” She turned and grasped the metal fence, staring down into the bubbling creek.
Except doing that and then destroying it would have dug both her and Bliss deeper into a possible murder coverup, not to mention add another brick to the wall of Brown family secrets. “Do you really think Bliss could have destroyed that note and remained a cop?” I asked softly. “The guilt would have driven her crazy. Frankly, I think you did her a favor by bringing it out in the open. You did something for her that she couldn’t do for herself.”
Her face softened in relief. “All I really want is the pressure to be off Bliss. Do you think talking to Gabe and this detective will do that?”
“I have no idea, but I also have no choice but to tell them what I know. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me any more if you think it might compromise your family. If you need a lawyer, my friend, Amanda—”
“We have tons of lawyers,” she broke in, her voice sharp. “What I need is a friend, Benni. Someone who isn’t just out to pin this killing on anyone they can find without regard to who it hurts. As crazy as they all are, they are my family, and I care about them.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” I said, fed up with the whole business. “I’m not a trained investigator.”
She wrapped thin arms around herself in a self-comforting hug. “I’m sorry, Benni. I just don’t know where to turn.”
“I’ll talk to Gabe and Detective Hudson, then get back with you.”
“Do you have to tell that detective it’s me, Bliss, and Susa who have seen this note? Can’t you just say . . .” Her thin nose flared in agitation, like one of her grandmother’s racehorses. “I don’t know . . . say . . .” A sob escaped from deep in her chest.
“I have to tell him the truth. No matter how Bubba Joe Bob he looks, he’s not a stupid man. He knows we have a relationship. He’d figure it out.”
She glanced over at the wine booth where the other girl was pouring frantically. The girl gave her a pleading look. “I’ve got to get back to the booth.” She turned abruptly away and headed back to the crowded booth.
Frustrated at being in a situation where I had no idea where to turn, I walked back over to the edge of the crowd to watch the dancers twirl and Cajun two-step to the band’s hypnotic beat. I scanned the crowd for my husband, determined to pry him away from his ex-wife long enough to drop all I’d learned today in his very capable lap. His dark head wasn’t visible to me even when I hopped up on a small concrete wall and peered over the bobbing heads.
“Señor Jose Friday, where are you?” I muttered, jumping down.
In the next moment, I felt a hand grab my elbow and a low, comically villainous voice whispered in my ear, “Lady, I got your number. Spill the beans before I lock you up.”
I twisted around to look up into Detective Hudson’s grinning face. Jerking my elbow from his hand, I said, “That dialogue is the most pathetic I’ve ever heard.”
“Almost as bad as my taste in boots?”
I glanced down at his feet. They were clad tonight in a pair of dark brown plain leather ropers with one scuffed toe. “Those actually look like they might have worked a day or two.”
“They’ve seen their share,” he said. “Are you looking for the chief? I think I saw him