planted them when I was coming out here to smoke all the time.” She paused. “Now I meditate, instead.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t sit cross-legged on the ground and do ‘ohms.’ I just come out here when it’s nice and think positive thoughts.” She gave Savannah a deadpan look. “Heaven knows, it’s getting harder and harder to come up with them.”
Savannah cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “With what?”
“Positive thoughts.”
“So, how are you? Did he come home?” Savannah asked, her eyes intent on Iris’s face.
Iris shook her head and stared at the floor. “Nope.” She looked up at her friend, a smile teasing at her lips, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised. “But I had a good night’s sleep.”
“Glad to hear that. So did I.” Savannah decided not to explain that Michael had stayed with her and Rags and how secure she felt all night in his arms. Rags settled down some, too. They had plugged in a pheromone spray near his bed. He seemed to be calmer and more rested by morning, and he ate a good breakfast. Savannah decided not to go into all of that; her friend not being a cat person, per se. It’s not that Iris didn’t appreciate cats. She happened to be quite fond of Rags. But right now, she had more serious concerns and that’s what Savannah came to talk to her about.
“Iris,” Savannah whispered as she looked more closely at her friend’s face, “he did hit you, didn’t he? The little creep,” she hissed. She straightened her posture and narrowed her eyes. “Sorry, Iris, but this is not acceptable.”
Iris turned away and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I’ve been roughed up before. I’ll live.”
Savannah’s eyes flashed with anger. I can’t believe this woman’s stubborn sense of denial. How can I make her see what she’s doing to herself? Finally, she said, “Yeah, that’s what a whole lot of now-dead women used to say!”
Iris sat down in a white plastic chair and motioned for Savannah to sit across from her. She looked over at Savannah. “That detective wants to see me today and suggested I might need an attorney.”
“What? What’s this about? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not quite sure. But, hon, I could be in some kind of trouble.”
Savannah made deliberate eye contact. “What trouble?”
“Oh, I didn’t kill that man. I can tell you that for sure. It’s just that…” Iris grimaced, looked toward the diner door and abruptly stood. “Gotta get back to work.”
“What time, Iris?” Savannah asked quickly.
“What?”
“What time is your appointment?”
“Three.” She walked toward the restaurant.
“Want me to come?”
Iris stopped for a moment and looked back at Savannah. She shook her head and said, “No, that wouldn’t be right. Thanks anyway.” She disappeared into the diner.
Chapter Four
Brrrrinnnng! Brrrrinnnnng! Knock! Knock! knock!
Iris walked slowly toward the front door and opened it just wide enough to see Detective Sledge standing on her porch with what she could only perceive to be a scowl on his face.
“Ms. Clampton, we had an appointment this afternoon. You stood me up. You can’t do that, Ms. Clampton.”
“Um, I’m not feeling well,” she said. And that’s not a lie. I feel awful—sick, weak. I can’t eat. I’m a mess.
His tone was stern. “I need to talk to you sooner or later. If you choose later, it just might be in a jail cell.” He paused before asking, “Now, may I come in?”
Iris reluctantly opened the door.
In keen detective fashion, Sledge looked around the room and listened for signs of life elsewhere in the small house. “Is your son around?” He glanced toward the sounds he heard coming from down the hall.
“Damon isn’t here,” she said, her voice weak.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
He looked at her face as she spoke. “Ms. Clampton, your face is swollen. May I ask what
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t sit cross-legged on the ground and do ‘ohms.’ I just come out here when it’s nice and think positive thoughts.” She gave Savannah a deadpan look. “Heaven knows, it’s getting harder and harder to come up with them.”
Savannah cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “With what?”
“Positive thoughts.”
“So, how are you? Did he come home?” Savannah asked, her eyes intent on Iris’s face.
Iris shook her head and stared at the floor. “Nope.” She looked up at her friend, a smile teasing at her lips, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised. “But I had a good night’s sleep.”
“Glad to hear that. So did I.” Savannah decided not to explain that Michael had stayed with her and Rags and how secure she felt all night in his arms. Rags settled down some, too. They had plugged in a pheromone spray near his bed. He seemed to be calmer and more rested by morning, and he ate a good breakfast. Savannah decided not to go into all of that; her friend not being a cat person, per se. It’s not that Iris didn’t appreciate cats. She happened to be quite fond of Rags. But right now, she had more serious concerns and that’s what Savannah came to talk to her about.
“Iris,” Savannah whispered as she looked more closely at her friend’s face, “he did hit you, didn’t he? The little creep,” she hissed. She straightened her posture and narrowed her eyes. “Sorry, Iris, but this is not acceptable.”
Iris turned away and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I’ve been roughed up before. I’ll live.”
Savannah’s eyes flashed with anger. I can’t believe this woman’s stubborn sense of denial. How can I make her see what she’s doing to herself? Finally, she said, “Yeah, that’s what a whole lot of now-dead women used to say!”
Iris sat down in a white plastic chair and motioned for Savannah to sit across from her. She looked over at Savannah. “That detective wants to see me today and suggested I might need an attorney.”
“What? What’s this about? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not quite sure. But, hon, I could be in some kind of trouble.”
Savannah made deliberate eye contact. “What trouble?”
“Oh, I didn’t kill that man. I can tell you that for sure. It’s just that…” Iris grimaced, looked toward the diner door and abruptly stood. “Gotta get back to work.”
“What time, Iris?” Savannah asked quickly.
“What?”
“What time is your appointment?”
“Three.” She walked toward the restaurant.
“Want me to come?”
Iris stopped for a moment and looked back at Savannah. She shook her head and said, “No, that wouldn’t be right. Thanks anyway.” She disappeared into the diner.
Chapter Four
Brrrrinnnng! Brrrrinnnnng! Knock! Knock! knock!
Iris walked slowly toward the front door and opened it just wide enough to see Detective Sledge standing on her porch with what she could only perceive to be a scowl on his face.
“Ms. Clampton, we had an appointment this afternoon. You stood me up. You can’t do that, Ms. Clampton.”
“Um, I’m not feeling well,” she said. And that’s not a lie. I feel awful—sick, weak. I can’t eat. I’m a mess.
His tone was stern. “I need to talk to you sooner or later. If you choose later, it just might be in a jail cell.” He paused before asking, “Now, may I come in?”
Iris reluctantly opened the door.
In keen detective fashion, Sledge looked around the room and listened for signs of life elsewhere in the small house. “Is your son around?” He glanced toward the sounds he heard coming from down the hall.
“Damon isn’t here,” she said, her voice weak.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
He looked at her face as she spoke. “Ms. Clampton, your face is swollen. May I ask what
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