Free A Spoonful of Murder by Connie Archer

form and pulled it from Bradley’s fingers. She thought he looked quite pleased that his jail cell was actually accommodating an alleged criminal.
    “Where do I sign?” Lucky scanned the form.
    “I’ll have to see some ID.” Bradley drew himself up to his full height of five feet seven inches. “All visitors must identify themselves and state their relationship to the prisoner.”
    “Bradley! That is ridiculous.”
    “Sorry, it’s just APA rule 79.26.”
    “I thought it was rule 327.”
    “No, 327 is Department of Corrections Policy. Rule 79.26 is APA.”
    Lucky blinked slowly, ready to reach across the counter and throttle the deputy, but thought better of it. Bradley might arrest her. She was sure there was a penal code to cover assault on a police officer, and sure that Bradley could quote it chapter and verse. She took a deep breath to control her impatience and calmly replied, “Will a driver’s license do?”
    “That would be fine. Please remove it from your wallet. I’ll have to make a copy.”
    “Okay.” Obviously, the quickest way to get past Bradley and actually speak to Sage was to comply with all aspects of the APA rules. She hurriedly filled out the one-page form and signed it, as Bradley returned her driver’s license to her.
    “Follow me, please.” Bradley opened a heavy door and led her down the hallway. “I have to ask, are you carrying any weapons?”
    “Not today, Bradley.”
But next time I see you…
She followed him down the short corridor and waited while he unlocked the security door. At the end of this area were two cells, each one equipped with a cot and a hard wooden bench.Sage sat on the bench, his eyes closed, leaning against the concrete block wall. Lucky spotted a row of stools and pulled one closer to the locked cell.
    “Ms. Jamieson…Lucky…please do not move any closer to the cell, and do not touch the prisoner or pass any items to him. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, thank you, Bradley. I only want to talk to Sage.” Lucky waited, but Bradley continued to stand next to her. She looked up at him. “In private, please.”
    Bradley sniffed and reluctantly retraced his steps to the front counter. Lucky waited until she heard the door close behind him. She watched Sage carefully, trying to gauge his mental state.
    His arms were crossed against his chest. He opened one eye and stared at her. “You shouldn’t have come here, boss.”
    “Don’t you start. I’ve had enough difficulty with Bradley.”
    “Don’t waste your time with me. There’s nothing you can do.” A muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched.
    “Why not?” Lucky’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you saying you’re guilty?”
    Sage shook his head negatively. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
    “Then talk to me. Maybe we can find a lawyer to help you. What was there between you and this Honeywell woman?”
    Sage leaned back against the concrete wall and closed his eyes once again. “Go away, boss. I’ve got nothing I want to say—especially to you,” he replied bitterly.
    Lucky felt as if she had been slapped across the face. His bitterness was directed at her, and she was at a loss as to why that would be, or how she could reach him. She patiently waited a few minutes more, willing Sage to talk, but he refused to look at her or offer any explanation.
    “Okay,” she finally spoke. “Have it your way—for now. But I’ll be back. You’ve gotta let somebody help you, Sage.” Lucky pushed the stool against the wall and returned to the front counter where Bradley was pretending to be absorbed in a clerical task. He looked up as she approached.
    “Bradley, is Nate around?”
    “No. He’s up at that house on…” Bradley clamped his mouth shut, suddenly aware he was about to say too much and he’d be in trouble with Nate. Lucky noticed that his high school acne had never quite cleared up. Blemishes stood out against the paleness of his skin, particularly when he was