Greenwood and Archer by Marlene Banks

Author:Marlene Banks [Banks, Marlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8024-8318-8
Publisher: Moody Publishers
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

When Bet reached the Stradford Hotel, Detective Woolston was sitting in the lobby waiting for her. He was amazed at the elegance of this Negro-owned establishment.

Bet had been teary most of the way back, upset over Cord. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone, let alone a nosy police detective. Why does he want to see me? she wondered.

Woolston indicated she should take a seat. “What is it you want from me, detective?” she asked curtly.

“I want to talk about you and Jordan Franks.” He took in her beauty with mixed feelings, remembering certain diary entries.

“Jordan Franks and I? Why should you talk to me about him?”

Woolston smiled cagily. “You tell me why I need to talk with you.”

She stood up. “I don’t have time for riddles, detective, so if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a trying day and I’ll say good night.”

“I can see you’re upset about something, but it’s kind of early for bedtime, isn’t it?”

“What exactly do you want from me? If it’s something legal, then …”

“All right, if you want me to be direct, then let’s get direct. Exactly what was your relationship with the deceased?” Bet stared at him, but didn’t answer. “I asked you a direct question, Attorney Whitehead.”

Bet wasn’t sure if the condescension she sensed from him was due to her being Negro or a female attorney or both. “Why do you think there was a relationship between us?”

“Jordan Franks was an odd fellow it seems; kept regular journals of all the important people and incidents in his life.”

Bet’s face paled as she fell back into the chair. “Journals?” she echoed.

The detective leaned forward. “That’s right. And you’re featured quite prominently in several entries in what I read so far.” Woolston sat back and casually scanned the lobby, making another mental note of Bet’s extraordinary good looks as he waited for her response. He noticed a couple of guests staring curiously. When Bet did not respond, he asked, “Would you feel better answering my questions in your room?”

“Yes,” she said softly and made her way to the elevator.

The detective watched Bet nervously puttering around the room. Tired of the delay, he looked at his watch and said, “Miss Whitehead, my time is valuable.”

“I’m sure it is,” she replied.

“I want an answer now.”

“Very well. I knew Jerome, I mean Jordan, from college in Chicago. He was in his final year of graduate school when I was a freshman coming in for pre-law.”

“And—”

“And we were mildly acquainted, that’s all.”

Woolston shifted in his seat. “What exactly does ‘mildly acquainted’ mean?”

“What do you think it means? Am I being accused of some illegality? I know you couldn’t suspect me of that ghastly murder.”

“I haven’t ruled anyone out, but your artful dodging is putting you higher on that list every second. Come on, lady, stop playing games and tell me just what your connection was to Jordan Franks. Oh, and since you called him Jerome, I assume you knew him quite well.”

“Jerome Franklin was his birth name, as you certainly have learned by now.

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