Free Eyeshot by Lynn Hightower

and one blue nightie.”
    â€œMaybe she always wears them. Call up her husband and ask him.”
    â€œI was just thinking there might be a kinder way.”
    â€œLike please does your wife wear black teddies? Since when were you kind?”
    â€œSee,” Sonora said. “You caught me. I’m not being kind. I don’t know if Butch Winchell knows his wife was fooling around. If he does, we got motive. I’d kind of like to have my stuff straight and hit him with it when I can watch his face.”
    Crick scratched his nose. “Let’s say they been screwing a while, long enough for this little girl to get her lingerie together. Theorize on that. How you going to prove it? The sister ever meet him?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œKnow him by name?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSo then?”
    Sonora leaned back against the wall. “See if he’s ever been to Clinton, Tennessee. See if they went to school together, way back when. Phone records. Maybe he’s been calling her house. He called her hotel room, we got that cold.”
    Crick shook his head back and forth, clearly unimpressed. “He’d brush that off in no time. Say it was conference stuff. What’s this guy do for a living?”
    â€œPhotographer.”
    Crick frowned at her. “Hell, there you go.”
    â€œPictures?”
    â€œIf they just got together, maybe no, maybe yes. But if the sister and the nightie hunch prove right, they’ve known each other a while. What photographer could resist taking pictures of his lady love?”
    â€œThink so?”
    â€œI was in love once. I think so.”
    Sonora waited outside the door of Interview One while Jeff Barber ate the second half of his sandwich. Sam sat across from him, watching him chew and swallow. Sonora considered inviting Sam out for a conference, decided no. He could follow her lead. Anything else would look too contrived.
    She heard footsteps behind her, heavy and light.
    â€œ Sonora. ” Gruber. Sounding pissed.
    She turned sideways, saw that Sanders was with him, thin-lipped, cheeks flushed. She’d never seen Sanders angry, but this might be it.
    â€œThis is my personal life and nobody’s business but mine. We are not going to have this conversation,” Sanders said.
    â€œOh yeah we are.” Gruber had his jaw set hard.
    Sonora looked at him. “If Sanders says we’re not having this conversation, we’re not. I got work to do, and kids at home eating pizza and watching MTV and Mayberry reruns instead of doing their chores. I’d like to get back to the house to make sure they’re not conducting satanic rituals at the end of the driveway. You know kids today.”
    â€œSee? She’s too busy, anyway.” Sanders folded her arms and puffed air between her lips.
    Sanders petulant and angry in the space of a minute. Sonora looked at her, then back through the two-way. Barber was still chewing. He ate a Frito.
    One more bite of sandwich, and she was going in.
    â€œHere’s what we want to know,” Gruber said. “How can you tell if the guy you—” He looked at Sanders. Lowered his voice. “The guy you’re crazy about is married.”
    Sanders leaned close. “The symptoms are these—”
    Sonora held up a hand. “Why are you asking me?”
    â€œWe figured you’d know,” Gruber said.
    Sonora gave him a look. “I don’t even want to think about why you said that.” She looked back through the two-way. Barber was on his last bite. There was catsup and a large white bread crumb on the left corner of his mouth.
    â€œLook, Sonora, if we’re bothering you.” Gruber waved a hand.
    â€œYou are bothering me, but I’ll give you what I got. One. When’s he call you, Sanders? Between eight and five? That means he can’t call you from home.” She glanced at Sanders, saw her go still and watchful. “Two. Did he fall in