A Killing at Cotton Hill by Terry Shames

bad. I guess I should find out what Caroline’s plans are.” He gestures toward the papers on the desk. “I wouldn’t want her to think I’m overstepping myself being here.”
    â€œI expect she’ll be glad of the help,” I say. “There’s one thing I ought to show you.” I find the letter from Clyde Underwood and hand it to him. “I know a little bit about land around here, and this is a low-ball offer. Whoever arranges to sell it can do better than that.”
    He looks over the letter, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting in the middle with the frown on his face. “I do appreciate your letting me know,” he says. “I’ll bear this in mind.”
    He’s got a friendly way about him, but I get the feeling he’s ready for me to be gone. But he needs to know one more thing. So I tell him about Greg being taken for questioning and me getting him out of jail.
    Jackson frowns. “You don’t think there’s anything to it? About the boy, I mean?”
    â€œNo, I do not. I think you’ll find he’s a fine boy who loved his grandmother. Don’t let Rodell get away with anything. That’s Rodell Skinner, he’s the chief of police and a man inclined to take the easy way out. He may think prosecuting your cousin Greg is going to tidy up the business of who killed Dora Lee without him having to work too hard. Which means the real killer would get away.”
    He nods, but I’m not sure he gets it. With a jingle of coins, he starts easing toward the hallway.
    â€œIf you have any questions, you let me know,” I tell him, “Now I’ll just pack my things and get out of your way.”
    â€œTake your time,” he says. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
    I go into Dora Lee’s bedroom to put my things back in my duffle, and I notice that Jackson has already set his big suitcase in here, up against one wall. My mind is working overtime, knowing this may be my last chance to get a close-up look at Dora Lee’s things. I open the closet door. The idea of Caroline’s wedding announcement has been eating at me. When I was going through Dora Lee’s papers, I didn’t find any little sentimental mementos, like birthday cards or shower invitations or letters from old friends. I’m thinking Dora Lee might have kept her sentimental belongings separate from her business papers. A few months after Jeanne died I was just about knocked over when I found a couple of shoeboxes in the closet filled with every letter and every valentine anybody ever sent her.
    Dora Lee has several shoeboxes on the closet shelf above her clothes. My intended theft makes me so nervous that I fumble with the lids of the shoeboxes, scared Jackson is going to barge in to find out what’s taking me so long and find me rummaging around. After looking through the first few boxes and finding only shoes, I step into the bathroom and flush the toilet. If he thinks I was in the can that should give me a little more time.
    Sure enough, at one end of the shelf I find a couple of boxes full of cards. The boxes won’t fit in my bag, so I spill the contents into my duffle and put the empty boxes back on the shelf.
    When I get to the kitchen, I tell Jackson I’m just going to stop and say goodbye to Greg. “I’ll see you at the visitation tomorrow night,” I say. “And if there’s anything I can do to grease any wheels for you, just let me know.”
    I throw the duffle into my truck, relieved that the evidence of my theft is out of sight. Then I go see Greg, whose eyes are all lit up.
    â€œYou’re looking pleased with yourself,” I say. “You glad to have your cousin Wayne to take over here?” I don’t like the little jealous feeling that’s snuck up on me.
    â€œWayne says he’s going to help me find work. I’m thinking I might get a job in an art store in Houston. And maybe I can