screamed the 1970s and were almost in style again. Thankfully they’d removed the seventies paneling a couple of years back in favor of the natural historic brick. Of course, new computers and copy machines looked almost anachronistic against the older furnishings.
She leaned in and continued, softly, “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than blaming Bixby. But first of all, we don’t keep prisoners here. We don’t even have holding cells anymore. All prisoners are taken directly to the regional detention center.”
“Then I’ll go there. That’s, what, just ten minutes . . . ?”
Mrs. June shook her head. “It would be fruitless. My niece Brenda works there. Jenny is allowed visitors, but now she claims she doesn’t want them.”
“Doesn’t want . . . ? That just doesn’t make sense. Jenny called me.”
“I know. I know.” Mrs. June’s eyes took on that let-me-kiss-it-and-make-it-all-better expression. “But just between you and me—and I’m only saying this because I know she’s your friend—a lot of things she’s been saying and doing don’t make much sense. If I didn’t know better . . .”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that . . . when she got here, she fell asleep in the interview room twice. Now, according to Brenda, she spends much of the time pacing her cell. And she’s not eating.”
“Stress? And I know she’s counted calories for a few years now.”
“But her meals are mostly untouched. It’s almost like . . .” Mrs. June trailed off and waited. A dramatic pause. She certainly demonstrated a love for the dramatic, but I was too tired to carry out this guessing game much longer.
“Like?”
“Audrey, I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I’ve seen suspects come and go—not all the time, mind you. But even in Ramble it happens. And back when we used to hold our own prisoners, I saw all kinds of reactions to the stress of being locked up. But this kind of reaction? I’ve seen it before.”
Another dramatic pause. Mrs. June was a shoo-in for the Ramble Drama Guild. I waited this one out.
“And you know her pretty well. Could she have been—I hate to say it—doing drugs of some kind? Because it almost seems like she’s suffering some kind of withdrawal.”
I stood and did some pacing of my own. A few years ago, I would have sworn that Jenny could never be involved in drugs. But did I know the new Jenny? I knew that some women take illegal drugs to help them lose weight. Did I know for certain she hadn’t been involved in drugs? Or hadn’t killed Derek, for that matter? Could people change that much over such a short period of time? “You know, Jenny told me she had taken a sleeping pill. Could that have done it?”
“It’d have to be a pretty powerful sleep aid.”
“You mention your drug theory to Bixby?” I asked.
“He saw everything I saw. But I certainly don’t have to draw any conclusions for him.”
“Good. If Bixby thought she’d been on drugs, that would give him all the more reason to suspect her guilt.”
“I wish I could get her regular doctor to go see her, but there’s no other sign that she’s sick. I think she’d be much better off in a hospital.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Maybe ask around. See if anyone knows what she was taking. Perhaps then we’d know how to help her. Our guys didn’t find any drugs in her apartment during the search. Meanwhile, I’d pray for the little thing. Brenda said that she seemed so lost, you know what I mean.”
“Will do, Mrs. June. I guess I’ll run these by the regional center anyway.” I lifted the Walmart bag.
“Actually, you can leave these things here with me. Lafferty has to run a drunk-and-disorderly over in a few minutes. He can take them with him.”
She reached out for the bag, then looked through the items. “I’ll make sure they clear these to her right away. Perhaps that would help her mood a bit. And I’ll keep asking Brenda about
She leaned in and continued, softly, “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than blaming Bixby. But first of all, we don’t keep prisoners here. We don’t even have holding cells anymore. All prisoners are taken directly to the regional detention center.”
“Then I’ll go there. That’s, what, just ten minutes . . . ?”
Mrs. June shook her head. “It would be fruitless. My niece Brenda works there. Jenny is allowed visitors, but now she claims she doesn’t want them.”
“Doesn’t want . . . ? That just doesn’t make sense. Jenny called me.”
“I know. I know.” Mrs. June’s eyes took on that let-me-kiss-it-and-make-it-all-better expression. “But just between you and me—and I’m only saying this because I know she’s your friend—a lot of things she’s been saying and doing don’t make much sense. If I didn’t know better . . .”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that . . . when she got here, she fell asleep in the interview room twice. Now, according to Brenda, she spends much of the time pacing her cell. And she’s not eating.”
“Stress? And I know she’s counted calories for a few years now.”
“But her meals are mostly untouched. It’s almost like . . .” Mrs. June trailed off and waited. A dramatic pause. She certainly demonstrated a love for the dramatic, but I was too tired to carry out this guessing game much longer.
“Like?”
“Audrey, I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I’ve seen suspects come and go—not all the time, mind you. But even in Ramble it happens. And back when we used to hold our own prisoners, I saw all kinds of reactions to the stress of being locked up. But this kind of reaction? I’ve seen it before.”
Another dramatic pause. Mrs. June was a shoo-in for the Ramble Drama Guild. I waited this one out.
“And you know her pretty well. Could she have been—I hate to say it—doing drugs of some kind? Because it almost seems like she’s suffering some kind of withdrawal.”
I stood and did some pacing of my own. A few years ago, I would have sworn that Jenny could never be involved in drugs. But did I know the new Jenny? I knew that some women take illegal drugs to help them lose weight. Did I know for certain she hadn’t been involved in drugs? Or hadn’t killed Derek, for that matter? Could people change that much over such a short period of time? “You know, Jenny told me she had taken a sleeping pill. Could that have done it?”
“It’d have to be a pretty powerful sleep aid.”
“You mention your drug theory to Bixby?” I asked.
“He saw everything I saw. But I certainly don’t have to draw any conclusions for him.”
“Good. If Bixby thought she’d been on drugs, that would give him all the more reason to suspect her guilt.”
“I wish I could get her regular doctor to go see her, but there’s no other sign that she’s sick. I think she’d be much better off in a hospital.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Maybe ask around. See if anyone knows what she was taking. Perhaps then we’d know how to help her. Our guys didn’t find any drugs in her apartment during the search. Meanwhile, I’d pray for the little thing. Brenda said that she seemed so lost, you know what I mean.”
“Will do, Mrs. June. I guess I’ll run these by the regional center anyway.” I lifted the Walmart bag.
“Actually, you can leave these things here with me. Lafferty has to run a drunk-and-disorderly over in a few minutes. He can take them with him.”
She reached out for the bag, then looked through the items. “I’ll make sure they clear these to her right away. Perhaps that would help her mood a bit. And I’ll keep asking Brenda about
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