Seven Sisters - Earlene Fowler [76]
“Rose Brown told me exactly nothing yesterday,” I said. “Write that down, detective. Nothing. She rambled on like older people do about her dead husband, his fondness for the law, horses, and women, not necessarily in that order. She then proceeded to tell me to fix myself up or my husband would leave me for a prettier woman. That was it. I got away as soon as I could because I’ve about had it up to my chin with people telling me how to keep my husband from straying and I’ve had it with you bugging me. Good-bye.” I hung up the phone, waiting for it to ring again. When it didn’t, I let out a deep sigh and went back to filing, trying to keep my mind off the whole darn Brown family and their internal family dramas.
About a half hour later, I was on my knees, filing in the S-T’s, when my office door flew open and a grim-faced Detective Hudson filled my doorway. Scout jumped to his feet, his one German shepherd ear at full mast, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
“Oh, great,” I muttered.
Detective Hudson took a step inside the office, and Scout’s hindquarters went taut, preparing to spring.
I waited a few seconds before saying, “Scout, friend.” Scout sat down and lifted a paw. I reached over and pushed it down. “Don’t take that word to heart,” I said to the detective. “I have to call you a friend or he’ll chew those atrocious-looking boots to leather shreds.” Detective Hudson’s feet were encased today in navy blue ostrich quill boots. They were ugly, but even I could tell they were expensive.
“I have one more question about what Cappy Brown said to you after you talked to her mama, and since my ear is already half deaf from you slamming the phone in it, I decided I’d probably be more successful and safer continuing this conversation in person.”
I turned my back to him and resumed filing.
“Benni, I swear I’ll take you down to the station, then call your husband and tell him that though I’ve repeatedly asked you not to, you’ve been investigating this on your own.”
I turned to gape up at him. “You’ll what? Are you saying you’ll tell my husband lies about me?”
Any resemblance to Tom Sawyer disappeared when his face hardened. “I’ll do whatever it takes to solve this case.” The unbending resolve in his voice told me to take that statement seriously.
I stood up, weary of this game. “Detective Hudson, my husband asked me to cooperate with you, and I’m trying to do that. I’m sorry if I was rude, but to be honest, you rub me the wrong way. One minute you’re Mr. Texas-cutesy and the next you’re Mr. Hard-ass Cop. I’m tired of being manipulated by you and by the Brown family. I’ll tell you what Cappy said to me, and then you’re on your own.”
His dark, serious eyes studied me for a long moment, his hands resting on his hips. Then he said in a solemn voice, “You think I’m cute?”
“Geeze Louise!” I said, throwing up my hands. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
He grinned. “Just tell me what Cappy said to you.”
I told him the same story I told Gabe.
“So obviously she now suspects you know more than you do. I sure don’t like that idea.”
“Neither did Gabe, but I’ll tell you what I told him: I don’t think she’ll hurt me. I know it appears she is the most likely one to be involved with Giles’s death, but I know her better than you and Gabe and I don’t think she’d kill someone in cold blood.”
His face had the same scornful and superior boy-are-you-naive look I’d seen on Gabe’s. It must be a class they take in cop school. Condescension 101.
“Is there anything else you need?” I asked. “I’ve told you everything I know. Scout’s honor.”
Scout’s ears perked up at the sound of his name.
Detective Hudson searched my face with wary eyes, then concluded, “You’re telling the truth.”
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the butt.”
“Exactly what does the chief do to shut that smart-ass mouth of yours?”
“Good-bye, Detective Hudson.”
He didn’t budge.
“What else do you want? I’ve told you everything I know. Now go do your cop stuff.” I waved him away.
He pulled a white sheet of paper from inside his tweed,