The police station wasn’t that busy this time of day, when the biggest crimes were being committed by speeding drivers on their way home from their daily commute to New Orleans. Jill found Sid slumped at his desk, and took a deep breath to sustain her. Take the offensive, she reminded herself. If she let Sid get the upper hand, he could probably even convince her that Celia was a raging murderer.
She had stopped by her office and made the police department another copy of the transcript, so that she could get the little surprises out of the way. She made her way across the room, between desks and around chairs, to where Sid sat.
“I have something for you.” She dropped the transcript on his desk and plopped down wearily in the chair across from him.
“You look rough,” Sid said.
“I feel rough. You don’t look so good yourself.”
“I did go home and get a couple hours of sleep.” He sipped from a coffee mug that said something about cluttered desks being the sign of genius, and glanced down at the transcript. “Hey, where’d you get this?”
“I went to Jackson and got it.”
“We were told it could take two weeks.”
“No, the court reporter had it on file, because the defense attorney had requested daily copies of the transcript during the trial.” She sat up rigid in the chair and locked eyes with him. It was very important that she choose her words carefully, so that the motive the prosecution had used and the way the trial ended wouldn’t seem so important.
“I spoke to the defense attorney about the evidence that led to the dismissal, and he told me there had been a cop who’d said some despicable things about Celia—”
“Wait a minute.” Sid’s words cut her off, and he began flipping through the transcript. “Dismissal? I thought she was acquitted. That’s what she said.”
Jill knew she was going out on a limb, since she couldn’t remember exactly what Celia had said. “I don’t think she said that, Sid. What she told us is that she was not convicted. That was true.”
She could see that Sid didn’t like it. He turned to the back page of the transcript and found the motion to dismiss.
“I brought this to you so you’d be closer to clearing this up,” she said. “And I also wanted to give you the name of a possible suspect that you need to check out. One of the guys questioned in the first murder was a man named Lee Barnett. He had an alibi, so the police didn’t pursue it. But I find it interesting that just a couple of weeks ago he was released from prison after a five-year term for manslaughter.”
Sid’s bloodshot eyes returned to her. “Lee Barnett, you say?”
“Yes. Will you at least try to locate him? Find out where he was on the day of Stan’s poisoning?”
Sid blew out a breath. “All right, Jill. I’ll see what I can find out. But that don’t explain why Celia led us to believe she was acquitted. That’s important information, Jill. She coulda cleared that up any time, and you know it.”
Jill knew it was true. She’d spent the last few hours fuming about that, herself. Still, she had to defend her. “She’s beside herself worried about Stan, Sid. She’s doing the best she can.”
“To what? To cover up?”
“Look for Lee Barnett, Sid. I think that will answer a lot of our questions.”
“Give me a motive,” he said. “Why would this Barnett guy want to kill Stan right after he gets out of the slammer?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But if you find him, maybe you’ll find out.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Jill.” He leaned up on the desk, bracing his elbows. “I know you gotta believe in your client and everything, but what if she’s guilty?”
Jill didn’t have the energy to fight him. She had to save it for Celia.
She headed out to her car just as she saw Dan’s Acura pulling out of the Midtown fire station’s parking lot. He spotted her and pulled his car over, got out, and came to her passenger door.
She smiled as he slipped in beside her.
“Hey there, Counselor,” he said in that deep voice of his. Those stark green eyes had a smile in them, and he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips.
“You smell good,” she said, touching his face.
“I just showered,” he told her. “We had a fire at the feed mill today, and I smelled like a smoke bomb. I’m off, so I was just about to start looking for you and see if you wanted to have a bite.”
Jill remembered that she hadn’t eaten at all today. She didn’t have time for it, but if she took the time, maybe it would give her the energy she needed to confront Celia. “I can’t spare much time,” she said. “I’ve been in Jackson, and I really need to get over to Aunt Aggie’s and talk to Celia.”
“You gotta eat.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. She wasn’t sure why that jolt went through her every time he touched her. “Come on. We’ll go to Maison de Manger and have a couple of po’ boys.”
Though the deli sounded like a five-star establishment to anyone not familiar with French, it was really a glorified fast-food place whose name really meant “House of Hunger.” But it was one of the favorite places in Newpointe, third only to McDonald’s and Burger King. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”
She watched as he got out of the car and headed back to his own. A strong breeze whipped up his hair, and she bit her grin as he got into the car, flipped the visor, and finger-combed it back into place. Then he pulled the car out onto the street.
She suspected that his vanity had more to do with insecurity than pride. He hated his receding hairline. Though he’d never mentioned it to her, that seemed to be what kept him constantly looking at his reflection in windows and mirrors. That preoccupation served him well, though. She doubted he knew how good-looking he really was. His body testified to the amount of jogging and weight lifting he did, and if he wasn’t aware of it, every woman in Newpointe was.
But it wasn’t just his looks that attracted women, she thought. It was also his money. Dan was the only fireman she knew who owned acreage just outside of town and could afford a house that was bigger than the fire station itself. The word around town was that his father had moved heaven and earth to try to direct him into a more lucrative line of work, but Dan had a passion for fire, a passion that drew some firefighters no matter how little they got paid or how much they had to give up. His father had eventually given up and offered his blessings, along with a sizeable inheritance when he’d died two years ago. Dan Nichols would never hurt for money, which was just one more reason he was number one on the eligible list of every single woman in town. The fact that he showed any interest at all in her was a phenomenon she couldn’t quite fathom.
She pulled into a parking space in front of the cafe that was perched on a bayou, and he was at her door in an instant. “Dan, have you heard any word on Stan?” she asked as they headed around to the back deck, where bullfrogs croaked and crickets chirped, and the breeze whispered through the cypress leaves.
“Nope. He’s still in a coma.”
She moaned.
“So what did you find out in Jackson?” he asked as they took a table.
Wearily, she set her chin in her palm. “Nothing. Everything. I really can’t talk about it.”
He looked offended, but he didn’t press. “No problem. But don’t expect me to tell you about the fire over at the feed mill.”
She grinned, glad that she had taken the time to spend with Dan.