Free Calamity Jayne by Kathleen Bacus Page B

Adventureland.
    “Say what?” he managed.
    “I know who murdered Palmer! Well, I don’t actually know his name because he didn’t actually introduce himself, but I could
     pick him out of a line-up or from a mug shot book in a heartbeat. He has some rather ornate piercings and a rather interesting
     tattoo. The sooner he is in custody, the better. For me. You see, he seems to be under the false impression that I have that
     thick envelope of money I told you all about. You remember. The one that disappeared with Peyton Palmer’s body.” I stopped
     to wait for the deputy’s reaction. None was forthcoming. “I’ve just cracked your murder case, Officer. What do you have to
     say to that?” I pressed.
    Deputy Samuels took hold of my elbow and steered me toward an alcove right outside the men’s john. Bad lighting. Dubious ambiance.
    “Listen, Ms. Turner, Tressa, I think it would be advisable if you kept low-key about that police report you made last night.
     The less said, the better.”
    I nodded. “I get it. You don’t want to jeopardize the investigation. I understand. I haven’t said a word to anyone. But some
     progress is being made on the investigation. Right? What have you learned so far? Have the tests on the trunk been completed?
     How is Palmer’s family holding up? Can I start looking through mug shots now?”
    The deputy ran a hand through his hair. “There isn’t that much to tell.”
    “What do you mean?” I was getting a weird feeling about this investigation. Like, was there an investigation? “Just what has the investigation established so far?” I asked.
    Deputy Doug shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell you this. Of course, this is preliminary, but...” He stopped.
    “Yes?”
    “I probably shouldn’t say anything. It isn’t my place.”
    “Why? Isn’t this within your jurisdiction?”
    “Technically, yes, if a crime was committed, it would be within county jurisdiction.”
    “Well then?” I said. Then, “Wait. Did you say if a crime has been committed? If? I don’t know about you, but last I knew killing someone and stuffing their lifeless body in
     a trunk was considered a crime.”
    The deputy’s nose wrinkled like he smelled something foul, something other than the unpleasant odor coming from the men’s
     john. “It’s like this, Ms. Turner—Tressa. We checked out your story and, so far, we’ve found nothing to substantiate your
     claims. The car was clean. Trunk. Interior. We turned up squat.”
    This was surprising, though not outside the realm of possibility. There was that danged tarp to consider. “What about Peyton
     Palmer’s wife? His family? What do they have to say? Did they even realize he was missing?” I wasn’t sure how long Peyton
     Palmer had been dead, but from the looks of him, not long.
    “I don’t know about that, Ms. Turner. The local PD handled that part of the inquiry.”
    “What are they saying?”
    “I can’t really comment on that, Ms. Turner.”
    “But they do know about last night, don’t they? About the car and the trunk and the money?”
    Deputy Doug shuffled his feet. “Ms. Turner, I really can’t say more—”
    “More? You haven’t said anything yet.”
    “Ms. Turner, listen...”
    “Deputy Samuels, have the authorities or have they not notified Peyton Palmer’s family that he is dead?”
    “But he isn’t, Ms. Turner.” A footstep caught my attention as Sheriff Thomason emerged from the shadows. He nodded to Deputy
     Samuels, then directed a pained look at me.
    I tried to remember what I’d said before the sheriff entered, stage left. “Isn’t what?” I finally thought to ask.
    “Isn’t dead, of course.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Peyton Palmer isn’t dead.”

C HAPTER 6
    Peyton Palmer isn’t dead. Peyton Palmer isn’t dead.
    As often as those words cycled through my head, I found myself wishing they were set to music. Something really punk. Or maybe
     a rap.
    Yo, Peyton Palmer isn’t dead.
    That