tapped the cell phone against her chin. “Our state requires a PI license and since ours came ordered off a box top, Mr. Oglethorpe questions why.”
“So send away for an application,” said Alma.
“As it turns out if we accept no money, a license is unnecessary.”
Alma doffed her shoes, one with a weighted toe. A hunting accident with a twelve-gauge shotgun had taken off half of one foot, and her balance sometimes grew wobbly and unstable. She sniffed and scratched the foot stub. “If Megan wasn’t in her can of worms, I’d drop doing this goofiness. Mature ladies our age shouldn’t be matching wits with the criminal underclass. I enjoy the adrenaline rush fine, but enough is enough, you know?”
Irritation crimped the longer lines in Isabel’s frown. “We can’t quit until Megan walks free out of Sheriff Fox’s prison.”
“Sure, but this PI stuff can get dangerous.”
“Then we’ll just have to be extra careful as PIs.”
A crisp knock at the door brought up Alma to let a young lady into their living room. Cathy Johnson had been poured from the same mold as Megan, starting with her petite frame. The striking difference was her jet dark hair instead of Megan’s blonde. Cathy slipped a tape recorder out of her straw handbag, but at catching Isabel’s perturbed glance, she returned the tape recorder.
“I’ll just jot down a few notes. Recording devices are obtrusive, and we need to talk freely. So, how many cases have you solved since my first article appeared?”
“Just the two covered in your article,” replied Isabel.
“You’ve cracked only those two cases?” With distress in her voice, Cathy’s smile wilted fast.
Alma carried the day. “Right now we’re in the middle of a homicide investigation.”
“Hey, that’s right. So fill me in,” said Cathy.
Alma used Cathy’s request as a lead in to do some lobbying. “Sheriff Fox arrested our niece, Megan Connors, for the murder of Jake Robbins. The charge is an unadulterated sham, and you can tack that quote in bold letters right above your byline.”
“Alma, Cathy knows how to do her job,” said Isabel.
“You make a thought-provoking lead,” said Cathy, scribbling away. “Are you busy clearing Megan’s name?”
“You hit the nail square on the head,” replied Alma. “We’re working day and night to exonerate her, and nothing less than restoring her good reputation is acceptable. Wait until you hear how Sheriff Fox tricked her to make his arrest.”
“Entrapment always angers readers.” Pleased, Cathy gave them a conspiratorial smile. “You know, this will rock my editor’s world.”
Alma offered a word of caution. “You’ll make few friends in the sheriff’s department if you hang your hat with ours.”
“My editor says controversy sells newspapers,” said Cathy.
She soon had gathered enough material to write her article and left with her effusive thanks. Alma and Isabel at the screen door waved as Cathy turned at Church Street, accelerating away to scoop her next headline.
“I hope you don’t as feel as guilty as I do,” said Alma, sitting back down. “I feel as if we just bamboozled Cathy.”
“She feels the fire in her belly to succeed as a journalist, and we merely added to the fuel. What vexes me is what will happen when her newspaper story hits the street. Sheriff Fox will fling a hissy fit with a tail tied on it. He doesn’t come off as looking too sheriff-like.”
“We didn’t tell Cathy anything untrue, and he can’t sue us for libel. Or is it slander? Regardless, Dwight will defend our rights.”
Isabel nodded. “I get the growing sense that Sheriff Fox realizes Megan’s arrest was a knee-jerk decision and regrets making it.”
“My take on him is a little more cynical. Cathy asked us if we expect to solve Jake’s murder before his funeral, but who is making his funeral arrangements?”
“I’d say we’re up for doing it. With Megan in prison, who else is there?”
Isabel