Free Grave Sight by Charlaine Harris

she’d had a bad life for a while, but that she’d been sober for thirty-two months. She talked about her daughters. She was proud of both of them.”
    â€œDid she ask you about their deaths?”
    â€œSure. She wanted to know how I knew, if I were sure how they were killed. She said she would tell their fathers.”
    Harvey Branscom had been lifting his mug to his mouth as I spoke. Now the mug was lowered back to the desk. “Say what?” he asked.
    â€œShe said she would tell the girls’ fathers what I’d said.”
    â€œThe fathers of the girls. Both of them. Plural .”
    I nodded.
    â€œShe never would tell anyone who Teenie’s dad was. I always thought she just didn’t know. And Sally’s dad Jay left years ago, after she put the restraining order on him. Did Helen mention any names?”
    â€œNo.” I was in the clear on that one.
    â€œWhat else did she talk about?” the sheriff asked. “Be sure you tell me everything.”
    â€œShe wanted to know how I do what I do, if I thought my gift had come from God or the devil. She wanted to be convinced I knew what I was talking about.”
    â€œWhat did you tell her?” He seemed genuinely interested to know.
    â€œI didn’t tell her anything. She made up the answer she wanted to hear, all on her own.” My voice might have been a little dry.
    â€œWhat time did you leave her house?”
    I’d thought about that, of course. “We left about nine thirty,” I said. “We went by the bank on the way out of town. We got to Ashdown and checked into the motel about two, two thirty.”
    He wrote that down, and the name of the motel. I handed him the receipt that I’d tucked in my purse. He copied it and made some more entries in his notebook.
    â€œWhat time did she die?” I asked.
    He looked up at me. “Sometime before noon,” he said.“Hollis went over there on his lunch hour to talk to her about Teenie’s funeral. He’d spoken to her for the first time in a year or two, when he went over to tell her what you’d told him about Sally. Which, by the way, I don’t believe. I think you’re just trying to mine for gold here, and I’m telling you, Hollis ain’t a rich man.”
    I was puzzled. “He gave me money, but I left it in his truck. He didn’t tell you that?” Maybe Hollis just hadn’t wanted to tell his superior I’d asked for it in the first place—though why, I don’t know. Sheriff Branscom didn’t think much of me, and it wouldn’t have surprised him at all that I’d wanted to be paid (for something I do for my living!). It would have confirmed his poor opinion. Yes, I expect even poor people who want my services to pay me. So does everyone else.
    â€œNo,” the sheriff said, easing back into his creaking chair. He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jowls. “No, he didn’t mention that. Maybe he was embarrassed at giving money to someone like you in the first place.”
    Sometimes you just can’t win. Sheriff Branscom would never join my fan club. It’s lucky I’m used to meeting people like that, or I might slip and get my feelings hurt.
    â€œWhere’s Tolliver?” I asked, my tolerance all used up.
    â€œHe’ll be in here directly,” the sheriff said. “I guess Hollis ain’t finished up his questions yet.”
    I fidgeted. “I really need to go to the motel and lie down,” I said. “I really need Tolliver to take me there.”
    â€œYou’ve got some car keys,” the sheriff observed. “Hollis’ll bring him over when they’re done.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I need my brother.”
    â€œDon’t you raise your voice to me, young woman. He’llbe through in a minute.” But there was the faintest look of alarm on the round soft face.
    â€œNow,” I said. “I need him now.