If Fried Chicken Could Fly by Paige Shelton Read Free Book Online Page B

and sausages and explain yourself, young man. Y’hear?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Any time you’re available.”
    “Well, I’ll let you know. For now, we need to attend to Miz. I do need something to eat, though. Vending machine anywhere?”
    “Jim ran down to Bunny’s. He’s bringing back food and coffee,” I said.
    “God bless that Bunny for having no life but that all-the-time café. If it weren’t for her, we’d all spend way too much time being hungry,” Verna said.
    On cue, Jim opened the door while balancing multiple cups of coffee and a couple white bags with grease stains on the outside.
    “Verna, glad you could make it.”
    “I wasn’t given much choice, Jim,” Verna said as she took a bag and peered inside. Her eyebrows lifted in approval and she reached into it and pulled out a chocolate-glazed donut.
    “Blame it on Betts. She wouldn’t let us talk to her gram without you present.”
    “That’s because she’s a very smart girl. But you know you could have waited until tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Verna, there’s a killer on the loose. I’ve got nothing at this moment except that the victim’s wife claims that Miz was having an affair with her husband and that she killed him. I have to ask some questions, and I have to ask those questions right away. Sorry if your fishing trip was cut short.”
    Verna inspected Jim as she chewed. After a moment she said, “Well, I suppose that makes sense. Damn shame about Everett. Nice man. Betts, go and fetch your gram. We’ll set up some chairs in a happy circle and put something in the middle to hold the food and coffee.”
    This was Verna’s way of giving orders. She’d defined my job, but it would be expected that Jim and Cliff would accomplish the other tasks.
    They did as they’d been passive-aggressively told while I went back to the cell. Despite Verna’s loud arrival, Gram was still sleeping so peacefully that it was a shame to wake her. I ducked under the top bunk and shook her arm gently. “Gram, wake up. Verna’s here.”
    Gram’s eyes fluttered open. “Isn’t she supposed to be on a fishing trip?” She blinked. “Aw, shoot-fire, Betts, now I remember. Poor Everett. I’m a convict.”
    “Not quite yet.” I said. “Jim and Cliff are going to ask you some questions, but don’t answer anything Verna doesn’t want you to answer. Got it? Let her lead the way.”
    “Yeah, I got it,” Gram said as she sat up and unfolded herself from the bunk. “Not bad, comfort-wise.”
    “Yes, but your bed at home would be better, I bet.”
    “Betts,” she said as she lowered her voice and whispered in my ear. “Did you clean anything up in the hallway outside the supply room today?”
    “No. What do you mean?”
    “Good. Okay. Let’s get this over with.” Gram led the way out of the small holding cell. I had more questions but didn’t want to raise any further suspicion, so I kept them to myself.
    There was no interview room in the jail. The only private space available was the bathroom. Neither Gram nor Verna wanted to have a conversation in there, so they went outside and conferred for about ten minutes.
    When they came in, Gram took a chair next to Verna. I sat on Gram’s other side and the three of us faced Jim and Cliff over a box we used to hold the bag with the late-night snacks. I didn’t have an appetite and neither did Gram. Cliff pretended to be interested in a pastry and Jim just held tight to his coffee. He placed a cassette recorder on the box and pushed
record
.
    “Broken Rope police chief Jim Morrison present with Cliff Sebastian, Missouri Anna Winston, Isabelle Winston, and attorney Verna Oldenmeyer.” He recited the date, the precise time and then said, “Miz, which is how MissouriAnna is known, can you please tell me what you did today, from the time you woke up to the present moment.”
    Gram sighed. “I went through this, Jim.”
    “Yes, but we didn’t have a tape recorder running at the time.”
    Gram looked at