Grace Under Pressure by Julie Hyzy Page A

I always preferred a sturdy build. His skin suggested an adolescent battle with acne and the jagged white line slicing across the left side of his face suggested a battle of another kind. Where had he gotten that scar? An accident? A fight?
    Jack sidled close enough to clap Earl on the shoulder. “Nobody can replace you, buddy. Not in a hundred years.”
    Clearly pleased, Earl’s face reddened even more. He waved Jack away. “Oh, go on.”
    “I’m Grace Wheaton,” I said, extending my hand.
    Jack took a step toward me but before we could shake, he gave his right hand a look of disgust. “Sorry,” he said, holding it up for me to see. “Been playing in the dirt. But I know who you are.” He raised his chin to indicate the expansive grounds. “Talk about grapevines,” he said with a wink, “out here word travels fast.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “I was very sorry to hear about Abe Vargas,” he said. “He was a good man. They catch the guy yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    “You heard I might have seen the guy?”
    That took me by surprise. “No, I didn’t. You saw the killer?”
    Jack shrugged. “Might have. I talked to the police about it yesterday.”
    “They asked me to ask around. You’d think they might have mentioned a witness.”
    “Yeah, well, I get the impression the cops in this town are in over their heads,” Jack said. “The guy I talked with yesterday didn’t even ask for my contact information. He was in the middle of questioning me when he just took off.”
    Uh-oh. “Did he have a mole right about,” I pointed to the area just above the bridge of my nose, “here?”
    “How did you know that?”
    Just as I was about to tell him about Ronny Tooney, Carr joined us outside. “Let everyone on staff know that no one gets near Mr. Marshfield without prior clearance from me,” he said by way of greeting.
    I started to interrupt, but he stopped me.
    “I’ve got two armed guards keeping watch over him ’round the clock. Nobody’s getting past them.” He pointed to Jack and then to me. “You both wanted to talk with me about something. Who wants to start?”
    Jack made a “ladies first” gesture so I jumped right in and told them all about my encounter with Ronny Tooney, explaining how I’d given my statement to him, erroneously believing he was a plainclothes detective. As I spoke Jack worked his jaw, probably feeling the same combination of frustration and stupidity I was experiencing. “I didn’t realize,” I said. “He looked so official.”
    Carr squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his brow. “Great,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is just great.” Opening his eyes, he glared at Jack. “And what about you?”
    “I gave the guy my statement, too,” he said. “How the hell could this guy have gotten away with this? Didn’t you check credentials?”
    Carr took a step forward. “Have you met the team I inherited? Not one of them has actually been trained in security. They’ve been instructed on pointing out the washrooms and keeping kids from climbing on the furniture. There are no emergency protocols set up. Nobody here has any experience on the street, and this place has never even run a safety drill. How many times do you think any of these people have had to deal with a murder? Zero. Nobody knew what the hell to do yesterday, and we’re just damn lucky that no one else got hurt.” He held a finger up close to Jack’s face. “I admit that mistakes were made. And I take responsibility. But it wouldn’t hurt to pay closer attention yourself. Next time somebody questions you, maybe you ought to check before spilling your guts.”
    Eyes tight with anger, Jack edged forward. A tiger ready to leap.
    From behind me, Earl spoke up. “If this Ronny fellow sneaked in here because he’s trying to help figure out who killed Abe, then I don’t see what’s so wrong about that.” He turned his back to us, resuming work on his pansy. “Maybe he’ll get the job done before