Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) by Terry Shames Read Free Book Online

dead grass and stark, bare trees. There are a few bushes along the back fence, but no garden.
    Clara is sitting on a plump sofa. She’s a small woman. I’ve known her since we were young. A few years older than me, she was a pretty girl with an unexpected deep dimple when she smiled. She’s not smiling now. Her face is gray, her eyes puffy, but she still manages to convey dignity.
    I lean down to take her hand and tell her and Alan how sorry I am about Gary. “I’m intruding, but I have to ask you some questions.”
    I explain that as of yesterday afternoon I’m acting chief of police. “It’s up to me to find out who did this to your son.”
    Alan starts to speak, but it comes out as a croak. He clears his throat before he starts again. “Thank you for coming. It’s been a terrible shock.”
    Clara gestures to an armchair. “Samuel, why don’t you take a seat. Can I get you something?”
    “No, no, you stay there. Don’t get up. I’m fine.” I sit down facing her.
    Dellmore lowers himself onto the sofa next to his wife. “What kind of questions do you have?” he says.
    “Let me get a little background. When did you last see Gary?”
    Clara puts a hand to her lips and closes her eyes. Alan answers. “I see Gary every day at work, and Clara saw him over the weekend. He stopped by.”
    “Did everything seem all right with him?”
    Alan hesitates but then nods. “Same as usual.” He glances at Clara. There’s something he’s reluctant to say, but I’ll get at it.
    “Do either of you know if Gary had a falling-out with anybody recently?”
    Clara draws a sharp breath. Dellmore takes her hand. He looks at me, his eyes full of pain. “You might as well hear it from me. Gary and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye on things, and…” he pauses and swallows. “We had a fight last Friday, and then again Tuesday. I shouldn’t have been so hard on him!” He hangs his head.
    Clara puts her other hand on his arm and squeezes. “You can’t blame yourself, Alan. People have arguments all the time. You can’t keep things to yourself for fear that somebody might…”
    Dellmore puts his hand up to stop her. “The problem was I flew off the handle and called him out right in front of everybody at the bank. I should have talked to him privately.”
    “What was the argument about?”
    Dellmore looks off in the corner and runs a hand over his mouth hard like he’s trying to wipe away the words he has to say. “Cookie Travers told me last week that Gary was paying one of the girls the wrong kind of attention. Flirting with her. Could be considered harassment, she said, and it needed to stop. Friday I confronted him.”
    “Who was the girl?”
    “A teller. New girl. Rusty Reinhardt’s daughter Jessica. She started working for us last summer, straight out of junior college. Nice girl, pretty. Made me mad that Gary would do such a thing. He’s a married man and everybody knows it! He was making of fool of himself, not to mention the girl and the people who saw what was going on and had to pretend they didn’t notice.” His voice grows more vehement the longer he talks.
    Clara has been sitting frozen, but she gives herself a little shake and says, “Now Alan, you’re going to get your blood pressure up. There’s no need to go over this again.”
    Dellmore lowers his head into his hands and shudders. “You’re right. But I hate to think…”
    “Stop,” she says firmly.
    I wonder what he was going to say—does he hate to think their argument was one of their last exchanges or that his son had flouted the rules? “You said it could be considered harassment. Did Jessica threaten to bring any charges or anything like that?”
    Dellmore manages a tired smile. “No, according to Cookie it was a mutual flirtation. Like I said, Jessica is young. I guess she didn’t realize how it looked. Cookie said she had to bring it up because people were starting to gossip. Apparently Jessica told Cookie that it was no