Murder Takes A Bow - A Betty Crawford Mystery (The Betty Crawford Mysteries) by Liz Marvin
Authors: Liz Marvin
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Clarise’s shoulder blades.
"Walter. He he said he saw the whole thing." Tears starting leaking down her cheeks again. "He said he saw me kill Jarvis. Oh Betty, why would he say something like that? It’s not true. It’s not true!"
She started to cry again. Sergeant Wes looked at Betty helplessly. "I don’t know how she heard," he said.
Betty stared at him in disbelief. "You don’t know how she heard? She’s in a prison cell you idiot! One of your officers must have told her!"
"Don’t yell at him," Clarise said quietly. "Wes has been so wonderful." She laughed hollowly. "He even brought me coffee this morning, and he’s spent hours just keeping me company."
Sergeant Wes turned red. "Well…" he coughed, "I know you couldn’t have done something like this. They’ll release you soon, I’m sure of it."
The volume of the press outside picked up a notch. Sergeant Wes grimaced. "That’ll be Walter. They’re releasing him into protective custody."
"Oh really?" Betty asked. They were releasing Walter, but not Clarise? "I’ll be back."
"Betty," Clarise said, "Now, don’t do anything foolish."
Betty looked at her innocently. "Foolish? Never." She smiled at Sergeant Wes. "You keep her company now, will you?" Anger was a comforting fizz under her skin. So Walter wanted to frame Clarise, did he? Well, he’d get his time in the spotlight all right. And he wouldn’t like it. Not one bit.
When she opened the door of the station, Betty saw that Walter was standing on top of a small rock wall, facing the press while he made his statement.
"I confessed to the murder to protect my director. The theater needs her! And as you know I'll do anything, for a show."
"What really happened?" One reporter, a lean and hungry looking girl barely out of her teens, shouted out. Walter bowed in her direction.
"Clarise was coming out of the auditorium when I heard a noise. I looked across the lobby, and there, in Clarise’s office, was Jarvis. I saw Clarise take the lead pipe and "
"Walter," Betty interrupted from the door in a sing song voice. "How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up three fingers, clearly spread apart and high over her head so that everyone could see.
He glanced in her direction. "Two. What’s this about Betty?"
Betty reached into the crowd and pulled a young man out. He was skinny and a good five inches taller than her.
"Stand right here please," she said, pointing to a spot right next to her. The boy did as he was told, grinning. She recognized him as one of the crew, and knew that he had already guessed what she was doing. She smiled at him. Walter shifted in place. The reporters murmurs to recording devices or jotted down notes.
"So," she said, "the auditorium is about forty feet from Clarise’s office. And we’re about…" she gauged the distance. "Twelve feet from you. So, if you saw Clarise kill Jarvis from forty feet away, this should be easy. She raised her hand. "Am I raising my hand, or is it the young man?"
Walter paled.
"The " he cleared his throat. "The young man?"
Gotcha you bastard. "Nope!" Betty said cheerfully. "Walter, I think you hurt your arm by falling over something you couldn’t see. I bet you’re just too vain to get glasses. And if you couldn’t see me, how could you have possibly seen Clarise?"
The crowd erupted. Reporters rushed Walter. He flinched away.
"Mr. Payone, why did you try to frame the director?"
"Mr. Payone, what’s the name of your eye doctor?"
"Can I get an exclusive?"
Let him try and get out of that one, she thought, turning to head back inside. Bill stood behind her, leaning against the door. She wondered idly if she ever met him on open terrain would he fall over?
"Well," he said, "That was interesting. Thinking of
"Walter. He he said he saw the whole thing." Tears starting leaking down her cheeks again. "He said he saw me kill Jarvis. Oh Betty, why would he say something like that? It’s not true. It’s not true!"
She started to cry again. Sergeant Wes looked at Betty helplessly. "I don’t know how she heard," he said.
Betty stared at him in disbelief. "You don’t know how she heard? She’s in a prison cell you idiot! One of your officers must have told her!"
"Don’t yell at him," Clarise said quietly. "Wes has been so wonderful." She laughed hollowly. "He even brought me coffee this morning, and he’s spent hours just keeping me company."
Sergeant Wes turned red. "Well…" he coughed, "I know you couldn’t have done something like this. They’ll release you soon, I’m sure of it."
The volume of the press outside picked up a notch. Sergeant Wes grimaced. "That’ll be Walter. They’re releasing him into protective custody."
"Oh really?" Betty asked. They were releasing Walter, but not Clarise? "I’ll be back."
"Betty," Clarise said, "Now, don’t do anything foolish."
Betty looked at her innocently. "Foolish? Never." She smiled at Sergeant Wes. "You keep her company now, will you?" Anger was a comforting fizz under her skin. So Walter wanted to frame Clarise, did he? Well, he’d get his time in the spotlight all right. And he wouldn’t like it. Not one bit.
When she opened the door of the station, Betty saw that Walter was standing on top of a small rock wall, facing the press while he made his statement.
"I confessed to the murder to protect my director. The theater needs her! And as you know I'll do anything, for a show."
"What really happened?" One reporter, a lean and hungry looking girl barely out of her teens, shouted out. Walter bowed in her direction.
"Clarise was coming out of the auditorium when I heard a noise. I looked across the lobby, and there, in Clarise’s office, was Jarvis. I saw Clarise take the lead pipe and "
"Walter," Betty interrupted from the door in a sing song voice. "How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up three fingers, clearly spread apart and high over her head so that everyone could see.
He glanced in her direction. "Two. What’s this about Betty?"
Betty reached into the crowd and pulled a young man out. He was skinny and a good five inches taller than her.
"Stand right here please," she said, pointing to a spot right next to her. The boy did as he was told, grinning. She recognized him as one of the crew, and knew that he had already guessed what she was doing. She smiled at him. Walter shifted in place. The reporters murmurs to recording devices or jotted down notes.
"So," she said, "the auditorium is about forty feet from Clarise’s office. And we’re about…" she gauged the distance. "Twelve feet from you. So, if you saw Clarise kill Jarvis from forty feet away, this should be easy. She raised her hand. "Am I raising my hand, or is it the young man?"
Walter paled.
"The " he cleared his throat. "The young man?"
Gotcha you bastard. "Nope!" Betty said cheerfully. "Walter, I think you hurt your arm by falling over something you couldn’t see. I bet you’re just too vain to get glasses. And if you couldn’t see me, how could you have possibly seen Clarise?"
The crowd erupted. Reporters rushed Walter. He flinched away.
"Mr. Payone, why did you try to frame the director?"
"Mr. Payone, what’s the name of your eye doctor?"
"Can I get an exclusive?"
Let him try and get out of that one, she thought, turning to head back inside. Bill stood behind her, leaning against the door. She wondered idly if she ever met him on open terrain would he fall over?
"Well," he said, "That was interesting. Thinking of
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