An hour later, I sat in a small, gray room at the Brune County Sheriff’s Office, a bottle of water on the table in front of me. I folded my arms, occasionally catching a glimpse of my reflection in the windows flanking the room. My red hair was in total disarray, my cheeks flushed, eyes wild.
I couldn’t have cared less at this point. Angela had been murdered in my father’s cafe. Your cafe. And Fran had told the sheriff and his deputy the truth. That she’d found me crouched over Angela’s body.
Naturally, they were interested in what I had to say, but I’d been waiting over thirty minutes now, and each passing moment sent another thrill through my chest.
On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to figure out who’d done this. Being a detective had been my calling. My unfulfilled calling.
On the other, I’d put that life behind me, and I didn’t want to go back to it and find out what I was missing out on.
The door opened, and Deputy Barker entered the room. He was a young clone of the sheriff, except he had more hair and meaner eyes.
He studied me for a second, made a noise in his throat, then took a seat opposite me. “Miss Pepper,” he said.
“Deputy Barker,” I said, “is Fran OK? She was pretty upset earlier.”
“She’s fine,” he replied, in a near growl. “I bet you think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“I’d say I’m OK, but I don’t understand how that’s relevant.”
“You were found crouching over the victim. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t murder Angela,” I replied. “I don’t have the motive to do that, and if you test that bottle of maple syrup for fingerprints, you’ll find that mine aren’t on it. I’m more than happy to offer you a DNA sample, fingerprints, and do a polygraph test.”
He stalled, clearly having expected resistance.
“I’ll tell you exactly what I heard and saw.” I launched into it, right away. I listed the order of the tinkling of bells. “Why aren’t you taking any notes?”
Deputy Barker sniffed. “There are cameras in here.”
It appeared to be a blatant lie. This wasn’t an interrogation room.
“You should be taking my statement,” I said, and turned in my chair. “Where’s the sheriff?”
“He’s busy.” Deputy Barker leaned in, placing an arm on the table separating us and upsetting the water bottle.
I caught it and righted it. “Seriously, where is he?”
“He’s in contact with a detective. Detective Freedman is coming all the way down from Des Moines to deal with you.”
“Deal with me?” Had he lost his mind? Sure, this was a small town, but there were procedures for this type of thing. “What are you talking about?”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Deputy Barker said, leaning in. “I know you did it. You can tell as many stories as you like, lie through your teeth, but I know the truth.”
“Am I under arrest?” I asked, opting for confrontation. “Because if I am, you’d better read me my rights.”
“No, you’re not under arrest. Yet. But you watch, this new detective is going to prove that you were involved. It’s only a matter of time.”
I got up from the table and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home. If this Detective Freedman wants to talk to me, give him my address,” I said, and exited the room.
They couldn’t keep me here without an arrest warrant, and I had not done a thing wrong apart from reporting a crime. I expected that this detective would pay me a visit soon, at which point I’d tell him everything I’d told the deputy and offer up my DNA and fingerprints again. Anything that would help them move past me in the investigation.
Anxiety filtered through my veins, and I barely managed to keep a straight face. This was bad.
Not only was there a murderer on the loose in Star Lake, but I was being blamed for Angela’s death. If I’d thought business had been bad before, there was no chance I’d make headway now.
I exited the sheriff’s office and was greeted by a shocked cry.