Agnes Hopper Bets on Murder by Carol Guthrie Heilman

Author:Carol Guthrie Heilman [Heilman, Carol Guthrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lamplighter Mysteries
Published: 2018-04-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Smiley opened his door wide, clad in blue-striped pajamas.

“We need to talk,” I said. “Shirley’s on her way.”

“Certainly, Sis. Come on in.” He cleared a stack of old newspapers from the love seat underneath his window and plumped a pillow before dropping it behind my back. “Sorry my room is a mess,” he said. “Been a little busy lately with—”

“Pearl?”

He twisted in his seat and blushed.

“I’m not here to talk to you about Pearl. This is about Josiah’s killer. I don’t want to accuse anyone, or even talk to the sheriff until I’m certain. I could use your input. You’re good at seeing all sides of a situation. And maybe you or Shirley will see clues I’ve missed. Like motive.”

“You got it, Sis. I’ve got a right smart to share with you too, don’tcha know. About us. Been wanting to talk with you, but here lately seems like …”

I leaned over and hugged him around his neck. I dearly love you, I said, but the words were only spoken in my heart. Maybe one day I would whisper them in his ear.

I gathered my feelings to myself while he continued to blush like a schoolboy. A barefooted Shirley joined us, tying the sash of a skimpy red and gold Japanese robe around her waist. She obviously wore nothing underneath, and I hoped that sash stayed tied. She pulled up a straight chair as I opened my notebook.

“I’m going over each name, alibi, motive, opportunity, and means.” I handed my two friends a pen and a piece of notebook paper. “When I finish, we’ll all write down the person we think is the killer. If we have a match, our evidence is strong. Do you both agree?”

They nodded.

“Who’s first?” Smiley asked.

“Walter Jones.”

We discussed and considered each suspect—except Jack of course since Shirley didn’t know he had not only been a person of interest but a suspect as well. My suspicions were short-lived. Before filling my bathtub for a bubble bath, I concluded Jack’s problems were personal ones, and they had nothing to do with Josiah. I couldn’t prove it but went with my gut instincts. Jack might be rough around the edges— even too jealous of his Shirl—but he had a good, kind heart, and I believed he was no killer.

Smiley picked up a nearby magazine, laid his paper on it, turned his back, and began writing. “I think I know who killed Josiah,” he said.

I wrote down a name. “So do I.”

“Land’s sake. Can’t be but one,” Shirley said.

We finished and held up our papers. Our names were the same. Carl Swain.

Maybe it was time to take our evidence to the sheriff. I wanted to talk with Betty Jo first, inform her of our conclusions, but she didn’t answer the phone. I left several messages as I sat in my crooked rocker with my feet propped up on the end of my bed, phone to my ear.

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