Frankly My Dear, I’m Dead by Livia J. Washburn

Author:Livia J. Washburn [Washburn, Livia J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2009-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Mr. Cobb was sitting on a spindly legged antique chair under a big landscape painting as I approached him in the second-floor hallway. A deputy stood nearby, close enough to make it obvious that he was keeping an eye on Mr. Cobb, not so close as to be overbearing. When Mr. Cobb saw me coming, an eager, anxious expression appeared on his face.

“What about it?” he asked as he got to his feet. “Is that lieutenant friend of yours gonna let me go home, Miz Dickinson?”

I don’t know where he’d gotten the crazy idea that Farraday was a friend of mine. I mean, only a few minutes earlier downstairs the lieutenant had made it plain that he still considered me a suspect, at least officially, whether he really believed I might have killed Steven Kelley or not.

But I let that go and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cobb. I’m afraid I didn’t do a lick of good. Lieutenant Farraday still says you have to stay here tonight.”

Mr. Cobb shook his head and let out a little groan of despair. “Lord have mercy. That ain’t right. It just ain’t right.”

“It’ll be okay,” I told him, trying to reassure him. “I’m sure everything will be cleared up by tomorrow—or later on today, however you want to look at it—and then we’ll all be able to go home.”

“You don’t understand. I need to get back tonight. I can’t wait until morning.”

I couldn’t help but frown. The desperate edge I heard in Mr. Cobb’s voice and the frightened look on his face suddenly made me wonder if there might be something to the lieutenant’s suspicions after all. Mr. Cobb wanted out of here mighty bad, there was no doubt about that.

“Whatever it is that’s got you so worried, I’m sure it’ll be all right….” I let my voice trail away. I admit that I was fishing for information, rather than coming right out and asking him what was so important about him needing to leave the plantation.

He sank back onto the fragile-looking chair. “I got somebody waitin’ for me at home,” he said. “There’s liable to be trouble if I don’t get back there until sometime tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well, maybe Lieutenant Farraday will let you use the phone long enough to call your wife and let her know that you won’t be home tonight.”

He shook his head. “It’s not a wife I’m worried about. I’m not married.”

“You could still call.”

“Wouldn’t do any good. She wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure if you explained about what’s happened—”

“Wouldn’t do any good, I tell you. She doesn’t speak English.”

“Maybe somebody here could translate for you,” I suggested.

A grunt of humorless laughter came from him. “Only if one o’ these folks speaks Schnauzer.”

Now I understood at last. “You have a dog!”

“That’s right. Sweet little miniature Schnauzer named Betsy Blue. I need to be there to feed her and take her for her walks. If I’m not…” He shook his head. “Well, it’s not gonna be pretty, that’s all I can say. And

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