Free Murder in the Dog Days (Maggie Ryan) by P.M. Carlson

open.”
    “Yeah, I understand that right now we’ve got this official relationship too. But I wouldn’t be asking anything about this case. It would be a lot more general. And I could conceal your identity, that’s no problem.”
    “Even so—look, Ms. Kerr, you’ve been following the Little trial. You’ve seen how the lawyers scrutinize every move those officers made.”
    “Yeah, but those guys were dolts! Made one blunder after another!”
    There was that twitch of amusement again at the corner of Schreiner’s mouth. “Well, I’m not a dolt, Ms. Kerr. I want this investigation to be as blunder-free as possible. Look, why don’t you call the D.C. Public Information office? Out of this jurisdiction would be best. Maybe they could set up something for you. A ride in a patrol car.”
    Olivia looked at her: an ordinary, pleasant-faced, sad-eyed woman, totally unreachable behind the fortifications of her official authority. Well, we’ll just see about that, Ms. Blunder-free Detective Schreiner. You want to be a pig, I’ll write about pigs. To hell with your D.C. patrol cars. Aloud Olivia said politely, “Right, that’s a good idea. Oh, and one other thing. Should the Colbys be making arrangements to stay somewhere tonight? Your people won’t be finished here for a while, will they?”
    “No, not for a while. Tell her to make the arrangements, and as soon as I’ve talked to the last two of you, everybody can go.”
    “Fine.” Outwardly docile, Olivia went back to Betty Morgan’s.
    But Donna seemed incapable of thinking of anyone to stay with. “Don’t you have a friend? Another teacher, maybe?” Maggie asked. She was lounging in Betty Morgan’s leather recliner, the sleeping Sarah curled into the bit of her lap that hadn’t been usurped by her belly.
    Donna nodded. “Roberta. But she spends August in Maine.”
    “Your sister? Jill?” Betty Morgan suggested. She stood twisting her hands in the arch of the dining room. Two lanky teenage boys, probably her sons, had appeared and now sat drinking Cokes at the table behind her.
    “No. Jill moved to California,” Donna said.
    “Other relatives?” asked Nick from the rug next to Maggie’s chair. Last in line to be interviewed, he was waiting for Jerry to return from next door, his hand resting lightly on Maggie’s ankle. Donna shook her head mutely.
    “What about Dale’s family?” he continued gently.
    Donna looked stricken. “No, no. When I called Grandpa Colby he was so angry.”
    “He’s mean,” muttered Josie.
    Olivia glanced at Betty Morgan, who turned pink. “Yes, well, I’d love to help, Donna, you know that. We could manage. Of course Randy and Bo’s rooms are always a mess.” She smiled, half proud and half apologetic, at the teenagers. “But, let’s see, you could take our room, and we’ll put the sleeping bags in for the girls. And we can open the sofa here and—”
    “Don’t be silly,” said Olivia. “It’s sweet of you, but we’ve got four bedrooms and only two of them in use. Donna, you can come with us.”
    “No, I don’t want to be a bother. Maybe a motel.”
    “No, no, it’s all settled. We’ll stick together.”
    “But—”
    “I want you to come!”
    So it was settled. Donna continued to protest feebly, thinking Olivia was just being polite. But Olivia caught Maggie looking at her ironically, and knew that at least one person realized that she had spoken the truth and was pleased as punch.
     

    5
    “So you first realized there was a problem when you got back from buying the pizza?” Holly asked.
    Jerry Ryan was leaning back into the corner of the sofa, one bony elbow on the armrest, the other arm extended along the sofa back. He had his sister’s deep blue eyes and curly black hair, but in him the family lankiness looked craggy, mature. Being female lightened Maggie just enough to give her that teenage-boy appearance that Holly found so unsettling. Besides, Jerry showed less of Maggie’s inquiring