I didn’t do it.” Whitney turned a blotchy face toward Lucy. “And I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me.”
“We don’t think you did it either. I’m not a deputy. I’m here just as a friend. You’ve met Professor Henry, right?”
Whitney sat up a tad straighter and managed a small smile for James. “I’m glad you’ve come, but . . .” She gave a helpless shrug.
“You’re wondering what we can do?” Lucy finished for her as James sat down on a stool in the corner of the cell. “We don’t know either, and we can’t promise to get you out of here, but we’d like to help. Okay?”
James was impressed by Lucy’s gentle, forward manner. He watched Whitney’s shoulders relax and her creased forehead slacken as she placed her trust in them.
“Now, the whole town knows that Brinkley Myers was a horse’s ass, pardon my language,” Lucy began. “And that afternoon at Dolly’s, before the football game, he was harassing you, right?”
Whitney nodded.
“Did he do stuff like that all the time?”
“Only when he had an audience,” Whitney replied, grimacing. “He didn’t have much to say to me if no one else was around. He was a show-off, ya know?”
“Sure as the crow flies. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Were you two ever an item?”
“God, no!” Whitney was clearly appalled. “I may not be in school full-time now, but I’m going to finish college and get a good job. I’m only going to date men who have the same ambitions as me. That boy wanted to do as little work as possible and still act like the town’s greatest gift.” She clenched her fists. “Trust me, the only feeling I have ever felt toward Brinkley Myers was that he grossed me out.”
Lucy put up her hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking. I didn’t really think you were ever together. Not for a second. Back to Saturday, did you serve Brinkley his meal?”
“No, Dolly did. I was busy behind the counter for most of the shift. The professor was pretty much my last table on the floor.”
“And do you know what Brinkley ordered?”
“Everyone got the same thing. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and collard greens. That’s what Dolly always serves for Homecoming. No one gets to order off the menu. She’s superstitious about that meal. Says that we always win if the whole town eats her meatloaf.” Whitney smiled fondly.
“That’s true.” Lucy laughed. “I had forgotten about the Victory Loaf.” She was lost in thought for a moment. “And neither Clint nor Dolly bore any grudge against Brinkley?”
Whitney waved the suggestion off. “No. You know them, they love everybody.”
“Isn’t that the truth? How about other girls your age? Was he ever obnoxious to any of them that you know of?”
Whitney looked down at her hands. “I’d imagine so, but I don’t know which ones.”
“Hmm.” Lucy gazed around the cell, unseeing. “Guess it still keeps coming back to your daddy’s pills. You never touched them?”
“Never. Daddy keeps them in his bathroom and I don’t go through his things, let alone steal them to kill somebody with,” she added with a trace of sarcasm.
Lucy allowed silence to fill the cell. Finally, she turned to James. “Professor?” Her blue eyes bored into him. “Can you think of anything?”
James shook his head, feeling immensely useless. He handed Whitney the bag of books and magazines as Lucy stood to leave.
“Hang in there,” he offered foolishly, but Whitney clamped an anxious hand on his arm and squeezed, as if trying to communicate her appreciation more forcefully. “Thanks so much for coming. It’s nice to have people who believe that I didn’t . . . that I would never . . .” Her eyes welled up with tears.
“Time’s up!” Glenn barked down the short hall.
“I’ll be back, Whitney. You won’t be here long.” Lucy gave the younger woman a hug and thanked Glenn as he walked down the corridor, jingling his key ring.
Glenn had consumed
“We don’t think you did it either. I’m not a deputy. I’m here just as a friend. You’ve met Professor Henry, right?”
Whitney sat up a tad straighter and managed a small smile for James. “I’m glad you’ve come, but . . .” She gave a helpless shrug.
“You’re wondering what we can do?” Lucy finished for her as James sat down on a stool in the corner of the cell. “We don’t know either, and we can’t promise to get you out of here, but we’d like to help. Okay?”
James was impressed by Lucy’s gentle, forward manner. He watched Whitney’s shoulders relax and her creased forehead slacken as she placed her trust in them.
“Now, the whole town knows that Brinkley Myers was a horse’s ass, pardon my language,” Lucy began. “And that afternoon at Dolly’s, before the football game, he was harassing you, right?”
Whitney nodded.
“Did he do stuff like that all the time?”
“Only when he had an audience,” Whitney replied, grimacing. “He didn’t have much to say to me if no one else was around. He was a show-off, ya know?”
“Sure as the crow flies. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Were you two ever an item?”
“God, no!” Whitney was clearly appalled. “I may not be in school full-time now, but I’m going to finish college and get a good job. I’m only going to date men who have the same ambitions as me. That boy wanted to do as little work as possible and still act like the town’s greatest gift.” She clenched her fists. “Trust me, the only feeling I have ever felt toward Brinkley Myers was that he grossed me out.”
Lucy put up her hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking. I didn’t really think you were ever together. Not for a second. Back to Saturday, did you serve Brinkley his meal?”
“No, Dolly did. I was busy behind the counter for most of the shift. The professor was pretty much my last table on the floor.”
“And do you know what Brinkley ordered?”
“Everyone got the same thing. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and collard greens. That’s what Dolly always serves for Homecoming. No one gets to order off the menu. She’s superstitious about that meal. Says that we always win if the whole town eats her meatloaf.” Whitney smiled fondly.
“That’s true.” Lucy laughed. “I had forgotten about the Victory Loaf.” She was lost in thought for a moment. “And neither Clint nor Dolly bore any grudge against Brinkley?”
Whitney waved the suggestion off. “No. You know them, they love everybody.”
“Isn’t that the truth? How about other girls your age? Was he ever obnoxious to any of them that you know of?”
Whitney looked down at her hands. “I’d imagine so, but I don’t know which ones.”
“Hmm.” Lucy gazed around the cell, unseeing. “Guess it still keeps coming back to your daddy’s pills. You never touched them?”
“Never. Daddy keeps them in his bathroom and I don’t go through his things, let alone steal them to kill somebody with,” she added with a trace of sarcasm.
Lucy allowed silence to fill the cell. Finally, she turned to James. “Professor?” Her blue eyes bored into him. “Can you think of anything?”
James shook his head, feeling immensely useless. He handed Whitney the bag of books and magazines as Lucy stood to leave.
“Hang in there,” he offered foolishly, but Whitney clamped an anxious hand on his arm and squeezed, as if trying to communicate her appreciation more forcefully. “Thanks so much for coming. It’s nice to have people who believe that I didn’t . . . that I would never . . .” Her eyes welled up with tears.
“Time’s up!” Glenn barked down the short hall.
“I’ll be back, Whitney. You won’t be here long.” Lucy gave the younger woman a hug and thanked Glenn as he walked down the corridor, jingling his key ring.
Glenn had consumed
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