Free Trial by Fury (9780061754715) by Judith A. Jance

behavior on our part, though. We still hadn’t interviewed her.
    I waited politely until she had swallowed a sip or two of coffee before I tackled her. “Mrs. Wynn,” I began.
    â€œCall me Andi,” she said. “I hate my name.”
    â€œAndi, then. Were you at the game?”
    She nodded and smiled. “Where the cheerleaders go, there go I.”
    â€œCan you tell us anything about that night, anything odd or unusual that you might have noticed about Mr. Ridley.”
    Her eyes clouded. “You’ll have to bear with me,” she said. “We were good friends. It’s hard to…”
    â€œWe understand that,” Peters interjected. “Your point of view might be just that much different from the kids’, though, you could give us some additional insight.”
    She sighed. “I knew him a long time. I never saw him as upset as he was that night.”
    â€œAny idea why?”
    â€œNo. I tried to talk to him about it during halftime, but he just cut me off.”
    â€œAre you the one who came to the dressing room door?”
    Andi gave me an appraising look, as though surprised that I knew about that. She nodded. “He said he couldn’t talk, that he was busy with the team. He shut me out completely.”
    â€œWhat about after the team left the dressing room? Did you see him talking with anyone in the hallway? Something or someone made him late for the second half.”
    â€œI knew he was late, but I didn’t see anyone with him.”
    â€œCould he have been sick? Did he say anything to you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid you talk to him after the game at all?”
    â€œI left during the third quarter. My mother’s sick. I had to go see her. I was late getting back.”
    â€œSo you never talked to him again, after those few words at the dressing room door.”
    â€œNo.” She choked on the word. “Something was wrong. He looked terrible. If only I…” She stopped.
    â€œIf only you what?”
    â€œIf only I could have helped him.” She pushed her coffee cup away and got upquickly. “I’m going,” she said. “Before I embarrass myself.”
    â€œWe appreciate your help, Andi,” Peters said.
    â€œIt’s the least I can do.”
    We watched her drive out of the parking lot in a little red Chevy Luv with a bumper sticker that said she’d rather be sailing. As she pulled onto the access road, Peters said, apropos of nothing, “How many women do you know who drive pickups?”
    I shrugged. “Not many, but it figures. She’s a guidance counselor. My high school counselor at Ballard wore GI boots and drove a Sherman tank.”
    Peters laughed. “Come on now, Beau. Mrs. Wynn isn’t that bad. I think she’s cute. And she really seems to care about those kids.”
    On our way back to the Public Safety Building, Peters and I compared notes from our respective interviews. The cheerleading squad had been able to tell Peters very little that the team hadn’t already told me, except they said Darwin Ridley had been five minutes late coming into the game after halftime.
    The cheerleaders had taken a short break at the beginning of the third quarter, and they had followed Darwin Ridley onto the court. None of them were able to tell who or what had delayed him between the dressing room and the basketball court.
    It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was something. It gave us another little sliver of the picture. It didn’t tell us what exactly had gone awry in Darwin Ridley’s life that last day of his existence, but it was further testimony that something had been sadly amiss.
    All we had to do was find out what it was. Piece of cake, right?
    Sure. We do it all the time.

CHAPTER
9
    I could probably get away with saying that I went to Bailey’s after work that day because I’m a dedicated cop who doesn’t leave a single stone unturned. I