Prairie Hardball by Alison Gordon

back to Andy and Jack and sat down. Nothing was said until the thin constable approached us a few minutes later.
    “Inspector Munro, Inspector Digby would like to speak with you, if you’ll come with me.”
    Andy got up without a word and followed the constable inside the building, where he found Digby standing with Deutsch and Morris, watching the medical examiner at work on the corpse. They all shook hands.
    “This is turning into a busman’s holiday for you,” Digby said.
    “No, it’s your case,” Andy said. “You’re welcome to it.”
    “As a matter of fact, we could use your help, if you don’t mind.”
    Andy looked at the other two policemen. Morris smiled pleasantly. Deutsch looked at the ground, the muscle at the corner of his jaw working at his resentment.
    “What sort of help?” Andy asked.
    “I don’t have to tell you that we have to work very quickly on this one,” Digby said. “There are a lot of people to talk to, people who have plans to leave. We could use an extra hand, another pair of eyes and ears this afternoon, and you already know some of the women. Are you game?”
    “Sure,” he said. “Glad to be of help.”
    While Andy was being briefed, I was listening to Jack, trying, the best I could, to help him.
    “She was going to call to make sure I was up in time this morning,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “I thought she had forgotten, or saw how drunk I was last night and was teaching me a lesson. Or being kind.”
    He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. His voice shook when he continued.
    “She was so full of life last night. I can’t believe that was the last time I’m going to see her. I can’t believe she’s not going to walk out of that place, laughing. Like it’s all a great big joke. She loved jokes. She and Wilma were always playing practical jokes on each other.”
    “I know how you must feel.”
    He looked at me, his eyes red and bleak.
    “You can’t know.”
    I looked away.
    “But thank you,” he said, and took my hand. We sat that way, him holding tightly to my hand, for the next five minutes.
    Finally, Andy came out with Inspector Digby, who called us all together by the door.
    “There’s no reason you all have to stay here,” Digby said. “Inspector Munro here has agreed to supervise your getting back to the hotel. I will request that you stay there until we have a chance to interview you this afternoon.”
    “We were planning to check out today,” Bert Goodman complained. “We have a flight out of Saskatoon in the morning.”
    “We will attempt to be as efficient as possible,” Digby said. “There should be officers there to take your statements within the hour.”
    “That’s fine, Inspector,” Shirley Goodman said. “We don’t really have to leave tomorrow.”
    She looked at her husband, who was about to object.
    “For Pete’s sake, Bert, you’re retired. It’s not like you have anything to rush back for.”
    Peter Deneka agreed to stay, as did my parents and Edna Summers. “I won’t leave until I know who did this terrible thing,” she said.
    “Inspector,” Shirley Goodman said, “what about our safety? All of the Belles got the same crazy letters that Virna did. We could be next on the list. Are we going to have any protection?”
    Digby stiffened a bit.
    “We are aware of the letters,” he said. “Undoubtedly, they will figure in the investigation.”
    “But what about us?” Shirley whined. “We need protection.”
    “Just stay close to the hotel,” Digby said. “About the letters, if you have any with you, please turn them over to Inspector Munro, whom you can consider part of this investigation, even though he is not a member of our department.”
    “But what if it’s one of us who did it?” Shirley said. We looked around uneasily.
    “Shut up and get into the car,” Bert said. “Don’t you know when to keep your mouth shut?”
    We nervously retraced our happier footsteps of earlier in the day