Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

“Humph.” I crossed my arms in mock irritation. “It’s very convenient for you to use that reasoning now, isn’t it? You resented the suggestion when it kept you away from Spence’s dinner party.”

Jo laughed harder, as I’d hoped she would. “If you can’t see the difference between missing Spence’s dinner party and skipping Betty Rodgers-Hayes’s interview, then you’re just hopeless.”

Spence tossed her a grin before facing me. “Let’s talk with Betty together.”

I smiled. “Good idea. You can take the lead.”

He laughed. How would he react when he discovered I wasn’t joking?

A flurry of movement drew my attention to the other side of the aisle. Delores rushed past our table, generating enough wind to flutter my napkin as she sailed past us. I shifted on my seat, tracking her progress toward the front exit.

What was that about?

The voices were moving closer to my office.

“This is a restricted area. You don’t have permission to come back here.” The flustered warning came from Viv.

“I don’t give a flying fig about y’all’s restrictions. She doesn’t have permission to go around town badmouthing my boy!”

Seated behind my desk Tuesday afternoon, I looked up from my computer. The exchange was loud. And hostile. I suspected the “she” in question was me, and that the angry speaker was Betty Rodgers-Hayes. I circled my desk and hurried to my doorway, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Unfortunately, my timing was off. Betty almost bowled into me. I jumped back to prevent a pileup in my doorway. The older woman’s milky complexion was spotted red with temper. Her permed chestnut hair pinwheeled around her face. Her startled brown eyes first widened in surprise, then narrowed in accusation. I’d come face-to-face with an avenging warrior-parent.

Viv was a step behind Betty with Adrian a half step behind her. My colleagues wore identical expressions of horror and dismay.

Confronted with the trio, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Who’s watching circulation?”

We couldn’t leave the circulation desk unattended. Suppose a reader needed assistance?

“Danny has everything under control.” Viv’s reference to one of our more seasoned circulation members reassured me. “I’m so sorry, Marvey—”

“What in tarnation do you think you’re playing at?” Betty’s growl interrupted the circulation supervisor.

I offered Viv and Adrian a confident smile. “It’s all right. I’ll speak with Betty.”

“You’re darn right you will.” Betty was panting like a waking volcano. I could almost see smoke billowing from her ears.

“Are you sure?” Viv and Adrian spoke over each other. They exchanged dubious looks.

“Yes, but thank you.” I smiled again, then gestured for Betty to precede me into my office before closing my door. Something told me this could get loud. “Betty, please take a seat. How can I help you?”

This was as good a time as any to interview one of our suspects, but I wished I felt better prepared. Betty had caught me off guard. I’d have to play it by ear.

Betty remained standing. She settled her silver purse more firmly on her left shoulder and glared at me across the narrow expanse of my desk. “You know darn good and well why I’m here. You’re getting ready to spread a rumor around town that my boy and I killed Fiona. That’s a darn lie, and you know it.”

My back and neck stiffened as my tension grew. How could Betty have known that… The image of Delores rushing out of On A Roll blinked across my mind. “How long have you and Delores Polly known each other?”

Betty gave a smug smile. “Since grade school.”

“Can she read lips?”

Her smile grew into a grin. “She sure can.”

Since she remained standing, I did too. The muscles of my back and neck tightened. I braced my hands on my desk in front of me, buying a little time to gather my thoughts. Beneath my sweating palms, I felt the cool stack of papers I’d intended to review this afternoon. They’d have to wait. “Betty, there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t plan to start any rumor about anyone. I’m just—”

“The good Lord knows that my boy and I, we’d never do anything like that. Never.” Betty’s voice was on the rise again.

In response to her attack on my investigation, I decided the best defense was a strong offense. “You and Bobby had a history with Fiona. You’re the jilted ex-wife. You were shouting to see Fiona during the signing. Why aren’t the deputies questioning you in connection with her murder?”

Betty seemed to be vibrating with rage. Her heavily powdered cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “You’d better not be trying to point the finger at my boy for Fiona’s murder just to get your friend out of prison. If she’s guilty, then the good Lord knows that’s where she belongs.”

“Jo’s innocent.” I was proud of my calm, even tone.

Betty arched a dubious eyebrow. “Then y’all don’t have anything to worry about, do y’all?” Her voice was suddenly sweetness and light. How did Southerners manage that?

I studied her smug expression. “What about you and Bobby? Do either of you have anything to worry about?”

She gaped at me like a fish out of water. “We surely do not.”

“How was your relationship with Fiona?”

“That’s none of your darn business.” Betty crossed her arms. “I’m here to tell you to stop slandering my boy.”

Would Viv consider Betty’s body language to be defensive? I would. The helicopter mom wasn’t going to say another word. Then why wasn’t she leaving? Was there something she wanted to tell me—or something she wanted to hear?

I watched her closely. “People have told me you and Bobby had a lot of animosity toward Fiona.”

Betty’s eyes narrowed to an angry glare. “What are folks saying about my boy?”

“I’ve heard Fiona was in charge of the trust fund Buddy left for him. Is that true?” I searched her features closely for even a flicker of reaction.

Her teeth snapped together with an audible click. “That doesn’t mean he killed her.”

So it was true. “Did Bobby resent her control over his money?”

“He wasn’t