by Dixie Cash
His stark blue eyes squinted. “Why do you say wrongly?”
Edwina pushed past her again. “Well, you see, this all started a few days ago when Darla—”
“Ed.” Debbie Sue glared at her. “Ed, we do not need to explain anything.”
“Mrs. Overstreet, I’m sorry,” their new acquaintance said, “but yes, you do need to explain. Now that you’re here, I’d like to talk to you and your friend again. Would you please come with me?”
He walked off with the confidence of a man who had not a shadow of doubt that others would take his direction and follow him. His boot heels thumped a steady rhythm on the tile floor.
Edwina’s elbow gouged Debbie Sue’s arm as they fell in step behind the detective. “See what you’ve done?” she stage-whispered. “Now we’re in trouble.”
“We are not in trouble,” Debbie Sue whispered back. “He only wants to talk to us. And where do you get this we stuff? I’m not the one carrying around a damned dildo that looks like a pistol.”
“It’s not a dildo,” Edwina stage-whispered.
The detective turned his head and looked at them across his shoulder, his brow arched.
Edwina gave him a Colgate smile. As soon as he turned away from them, she whispered from the side of her mouth, “Trust me. Anytime a man that good-looking is around, I’m in trouble.”
“You think he’s good looking?” Debbie Sue asked.
“Hell to the yes.”
“Hell to the yes? So now you’re a rapper?”
“See? Being around a man that looks like that brings out another side of me.”
“A side Vic wouldn’t like, I should point out.”
“Shit, Debbie Sue. Just because I think he’s good-looking doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. I’m like a diabetic. Maybe I can’t have candy anymore, but I can sniff it.”
Lying on her back on the concrete bunk attached to the cell wall, her mind in turmoil, Darla stared at the ceiling. Her cellmate, Judy Jones, snored loudly. Darla envied her ability to sleep in these surroundings, but she figured she must be used to them. Judy had made it clear that being in jail wasn’t all that new to her.
It would take more than loud snores and rumbles to deter Darla from her thoughts. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since the horror of finding Roxie’s body. Walking into that janitor’s room and seeing that girl lying on the floor in a pool of blood had been so shocking and Darla had been so rattled that the confession of guilt had come out of her mouth before she had even been aware she was speaking.
Darla had first convinced herself that saying she did it was no big deal. Nothing but her confession tied her to Roxie’s death. But today, with coherent thought returning, she realized she might have been wrong. Now that she’d had more time to reconsider events and think more clearly, she could see that even without her confession, everything tied her to Roxie’s death. Tatts by Matt had seen her standing over Roxie holding that damn bloody nail file. Why had she even picked it up?
Everyone who knew her and her team had heard her and Roxie argue and trade insults.
Then there was the fact that Roxie was married to Darla’s ex-husband, who, even while being divorced from Darla, had continued to manage her career for years. Debbie Sue and Edwina knew she had kissed Bob just the night before the murder.
Yep. Probably any clear-thinking person would say Darla Denman’s goose was cooked. Dear God.
It was all Darla could do to contain herself when she desperately wanted to scream to the top of her lungs, This is a huge mistake! Get me out of here! I’m innocent!
Of course she had enough sense to know that declaring you had committed murder wasn’t like changing your order to the waiter. Once out there, those words were taken seriously by people with no sense of humor, and no matter how hard or vehemently you tried to explain, they wouldn’t allow you to simply say you were kidding and take it back.
She had a perfectly good reason for making the confession. She knew the killer’s identity. Bob Denman. But Darla believed to the bottom of her soul that he wasn’t capable of deliberately hurting a fly. She had never known a kinder, gentler human. He had somehow accidentally killed his wife.
Or possibly, he had been driven to it in a fit of anger. Perhaps Roxie had finally found his tipping point, piled on that last straw, pushed him to the edge. And he had snapped. The expression on his face when he had walked into that room and looked down at his wife’s corpse had told Darla all she needed to know. She had been reading that face practically her whole adult life. He had conveyed to her without words exactly what had happened.
Darla had to wonder about her own role in what had happened. Had she unwittingly driven him to commit murder? She had bad-mouthed Roxie at every opportune moment. And she had flirted with Bob, even stolen a kiss.
She had to make amends. This time, it was she who had to come to the rescue, as he had done so many times for her in the past. She wasn’t about to let him face a murder charge in Texas, a state that prided itself on dealing out harsh punishment to law breakers, in particular murderers. It was unthinkable. So she had taken the blame and even made sure any fingerprints left by him were removed from the weapon.
A knee-jerk reaction had compelled her to do this for him. For more than thirty years he had done everything for her, while she had done almost nothing in return but expect more from him. He had devoted his life to her career and even married a younger version of her in an attempt to recapture the life they once had together. Deep down, Darla had always believed that was why he had married Roxie. But even if she hadn’t believed that, she knew Bob so well she figured he would soon come to the police and turn himself in. He wouldn’t let Darla Denman stay in jail for his offense. Throwing up a smoke screen to cloud the issue and allow him time was the least she could do.
The Monday holiday had everything on hold, even justice. Her arraignment wouldn’t take place until tomorrow. Thank God West Texas was in the middle of nowhere. The press apparently hadn’t yet learned the bad news. The good news was, a lot of people in the press didn’t even know where West Texas was.
Darla had yet to see the court-appointed attorney Captain Fuller had promised, but she sensed it was still early in the day. Maybe he or she would show up soon.
“Darla Denman!” A female voice boomed her name. It had come from the area where she had been processed the evening before.
Ah. The attorney. Darla stood up quickly and moved to the cell door. “Here,” she called out and immediately wanted to laugh. Under the circumstances, where else would she be?
A very large woman dressed in civilian clothing—khaki pants and a white shirt—approached from her left. “You got visitors. Step back from the door, please.”
Darla obeyed like a good little prisoner. Her hands immediately flew to her hair, attempting to straighten it. She hadn’t seen a brush or a comb since last night. She smoothed her jump suit. A habit of always appearing at her best carried over even in jail.
The large woman opened the door and motioned for her to step forward.
Darla departed the cell, and turned in the direction from where the woman had appeared and waited until the cell was locked again. Together they walked to the end of the hallway, where Darla was ushered into a stark gray room holding a gray metal table with two gray metal chairs on one side and a single chair on the other. She saw a large reflective window on one wall. She had watched enough cop shows to know it was a one-way mirror, a window for watching all that happened on the other side.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Denman. Your visitors should be here shortly. You’ve got thirty minutes.”
Visitors? As in more than one? Darla sat down on the side of the lone chair and, forgetting the real purpose of the mirror, began to fuss with her hair with her fingers. She didn’t know who might come in the door but she intended to be poised and ready.
Edwina was right on Debbie Sue’s heels and ran into her when she stopped at the closed steel door. “Go on in,”
she urged.
“Hold on, will ya?” Debbie Sue groused. “Are you sure this is the right door?”
“Detective Finley said the first door on your left. This is it.”
Debbie Sue opened the door a crack and peered in. “Darla?” she said softly. Seeing the singer, a sense of relief passed over her. She rushed in. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. Are you all right?”
Darla stood and before Debbie Sue could wrap her arms around her, a voice crackled from the intercom. “No physical contact. Please stand apart from each other and sit in the chairs provided.”
“Damn,” Edwina said looking around. “Big Brother’s watching. Can he listen, too?”
“I think protected speech applies to conversations with her attorney only, but I’m not sure,” Debbie Sue said. “Darla, you should be careful what you say. You have called your lawyer, haven’t you?”
“Heavenly days, I don’t have a lawyer. Lawyers are expensive. Captain Fuller promised someone would come to see me, but I haven’t seen him or her yet.”
“Oh, my God, Darla. That sounds like . . . Are you talking about a court-appointed lawyer?”
“Why, yes. I have no money.”
“Does Bob know? Is he trying to find someone for you? Surely some lawyer owes you a favor. Darla, you need a good lawyer.”
“Yeah,” Edwina said. “A criminal lawyer.”
“Thanks for the advice, girls, but I’m not worried. I don’t have anything to hide.”
Debbie Sue exchanged glances with Edwina, but decided to not waste any more of their visiting time discussing lawyers. “We’d have been here sooner,” she said, “but this detective wanted to talk to us and we’ve been with him for over an hour.”
“Was it Detective Finley?”
“Yeah, good-looking cuss, ain’t he?” Edwina answered.
“I couldn’t tell you. I barely remember talking to him. I was crying so hard when he came in to see me he gave up asking me anything. He said he’d talk to me later. What did he ask y’all about?”
“What didn’t we talk about?” Edwina grumbled. “He asked us everything. I kept wondering what I’d do if he asked for our phone numbers, being a happily married woman and all.”
“He did ask for our phone number, Ed, and our addresses. And we gave them to him.” Debbie Sue turned to Darla. “He did ask a lot of questions about what we knew and conversations we had before we all went to Midland. I felt like he was trying to figure out who Ed and I are mostly. He’s thorough. A good detective needs to be. He’s probably as much in the dark as we are.”
“But you don’t have to worry, hon,” Edwina said gently. “We told him there wasn’t a chance in hell you killed anybody. And even if you did, it would’ve been an accident—”
Debbie Sue gasped. “Shut up, Ed.”
“Oh, you’re right,” Darla said. “I didn’t do it.”
Debbie Sue sat back in her chair momentarily stunned. “Then why did you say you did?”
“I was covering for Bob.”
Debbie Sue leaned forward, her chin only inches from the tabletop, and spoke softly. “But Darla, if Bob had done it, wouldn’t he have said so? I can’t see him ever allowing you to be arrested for something he did.”
“He had no choice. Once I confessed there was nothing more to say. I’m sure it was an accident. Bob Denman is no murderer and they don’t have any proof to convict me.”
“You don’t think a confession is enough?” Debbie Sue asked, amazed.
“Bob will come in and admit to the murder,” Darla said, looking at the two women as if they weren’t quite tuned in to the real world. “There won’t be any evidence to hold him and they’ll release us both.”
“Darla, I don’t know what courtroom TV series you’ve been watching,” Debbie Sue said, “but that isn’t how it works.”
“At least not on planet Earth,” Edwina added. “And sure as hell not in the nation of Texas.”
“What she’s trying to say, Darla, is that both of you admitting guilt either makes it look like you’re covering for each other or . . .” Debbie Sue sat back in her chair, mulling over what to say next.
“Or? Or what?”
“Or that you’re in cahoots and you’re both guilty. They could decide to charge you both.”
Darla sat up straighter. “What? But there’s no proof.”
“Darla,” Debbie Sue whispered, “I saw you wipe that nail file that looked like a stiletto. I had to tell the detective that. Just that alone makes you look guilty.”
“That’s why I wiped it off, in case there were fingerprints, which could have been proof that Bob did it. Honestly, you girls are confusing me. I feel like I’m talking to the wall.”
“Hell. This conversation is affecting me worse than that,” Edwina said. “I feel like a hamster racing in a wheel.”
“It didn’t cross your mind that Bob didn’t do it?”
Darla looked at Debbie Sue and blinked hard. Her gaze swerved to Edwina. “Why, uh, no, I never . . . I mean, the way Bob looked at me . . .”
“Maybe he was in shock. We all were,” Edwina said. “If you’d held a mirror up to my face I’m sure I looked like death warmed over. No pun intended.”
Darla clasped her cheeks with her palms. “Oh, my God. What have I done?” Debbie Sue saw a glister of tears in her eyes. “I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?” she said in a tiny voice.
Edwina snorted. “You think?”
“You two believe me, don’t you?” Darla said.
Debbie Sue looked at Edwina for assurance. “Oh, hell,” Edwina said. “We discussed it, already said we don’t believe you’re guilty.”
“See?” Debbie Sue said. “But you have to admit it looks bad.”
Darla broke into sobs. Debbie Sue shot a look at the door. A noisy emotional outbreak might bring the jailer in. She was pretty sure that prisoners getting too emotional made the people in charge edgy.
“Darla, don’t cry. Listen to me. We’re going to help you. Ed and I have this detective agency, the Domestic Equalizers. I think we told you about it. We’ve solved crimes before. We’ll use our resources to help you.”
“We have resources?” Edwina said, drawing back and looking at Debbie Sue.
“Yes, Ed, we have resources.”
The female jailer’s unmistakable deep voice came from the hallway.
Fuck. This visit is over, Debbie Sue thought. “Look, we’ll be here tomorrow at your arraignment and just in case they’re willing to release you, we’ll find a bail bondsman—”
“I’ve already taken care of that,” Darla said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“How is that possible?”
The door opened and the female jailer appeared. “Time’s up. Mrs. Denman, come with me, please. Ladies, please stay here until I come back.”
As Darla stood to be led away she looked at Debbie Sue. “My cellmate owns a bonding company. She and I have already worked it out.”
As Darla was led away, Edwina whispered, “How lucky is that?”
“I don’t know,” Debbie Sue said, her brow squeezing into a painful crease. “Let’s hope it’s for real and hope it continues. ’Cause, Ed, luck, and lots of it, is what that woman’s gonna need.”
Chapter Twenty-one
As they left the building, Edwina didn’t talk, for once, and Debbie Sue was grateful. Crossing the parking lot, she knew if she looked in her partner’s direction the blah-blah-blah would start and she wouldn’t be able to think, so she stepped up her pace to stay two strides ahead.
“Hey,” Edwina said. “Hey, don’t think walking ahead of me is gonna keep me quiet. We’ll be in the cab of your pickup soon enough. You can’t escape me there.”
Yep, Edwina’s silence was too good to be true. On a big sigh, Debbie Sue stopped and turned to face her. “I know you’ve got a mouthful to say. So let’s have it.”
“Do you think they were listening to our conversation?”
“I don’t know
. But we didn’t say anything that hasn’t already been said.”
“I don’t recall that anybody’s accused Bob of being the killer. That would be new information.”
“Ed, Bob and Roxie were married. Husbands are always the first people they look at. Don’t you remember the questions Detective Finley asked us about his and Roxie’s relationship? If Darla hadn’t popped off and confessed, Bob would be their number-one suspect. He might be the one in jail instead of Darla.”
Edwina shrugged.
“We’ve got to help her,” Debbie Sue said.
“Why? You said you told Buddy we were going to observe the Midland PD and jump in only if needed.”
“I know, Ed, but we have resources. We—”
“What the hell does that mean? What resources? I think we’d better do what Buddy said and leave this to real cops.”
“Ed, I had no idea how badly Darla’s screwed herself with this confession and all. I only suspected that saving Bob was the reason she confessed. Until this visit, I didn’t know it. And I didn’t know the reason she cleaned that nail file was because she was trying to wipe off his fingerprints. I thought she did it because she was in a one hundred percent wigged-out state of shock.”
“So?” Edwina said.
“So she’s in big trouble, Ed. Since she gave them a confession, I’ll bet they won’t look very hard for anyone else. And if Bob steps up now and says he did it, my God, that makes them both look guilty, like they planned it together or something. Just like I told her in there.”
“I don’t believe either one of them is guilty.”
“I don’t either. But who’s the killer then? The next closest people to Roxie were the ones in Darla’s entourage. Were any of them capable or motivated to kill her?”
“Possibly,” Edwina replied. “If you recall, that girl wasn’t exactly Miss Congeniality. Hell, she could piss off the Pope. But since I didn’t spend much time with any of that bunch except Bob and Darla, I don’t have a read on all of them.”
Debbie Sue bit down on her bottom lip. “Me neither.”