Trial by Fury (9780061754715) by Judith A. Jance

he’s the man you sold all those cookies to,” I told her.
    â€œAnd now he’s dead?” Her question was totally matter-of-fact.
    â€œSomebody killed him. Late Friday night or Saturday morning.”
    Kids have an uncanny way of going for thejugular. “Was it the woman in the pink shirt? Did she kill him?”
    I’ve suspected for years that kids watch too much television. That question corked it for me, convinced me I was right. The problem was, it was closer to the truth than I was willing to let on. I already knew Joanna Ridley was a liar. I wondered if she was something worse.
    â€œIt’s not likely it was his wife,” I said, waffling for Jenny’s benefit. “At this point it could be almost anybody. We don’t know.”
    â€œI hope she didn’t do it,” Jenny said thoughtfully. “I felt sorry for her.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThe man was in a hurry. He seemed angry. He kept looking at his watch and saying he had to go. She said he should go, that she’d pay for the cookies and leave them in his trunk.”
    â€œDid she?”
    Jenny nodded, big-eyed. “I helped her carry them to the car. She started crying.”
    â€œCrying? Are you sure?”
    â€œYes, I’m sure.” Jenny sounded offended that her veracity had been called into question.
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    â€œAfter she put the cookies in one car, she got in another one.”
    â€œWhat kind?”
    â€œBrown-and-white car, I think.”
    â€œAnd did she leave right away?”
    â€œNo. She sat there for a long time, leaning on the steering wheel, crying. She finally drove away.”
    I turned to Jenny’s mother. “Did you see any of this?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “I must have been in the car, studying. When Jenny needs something, she whistles.”
    â€œWhat about the check?” I asked.
    Sue answered that question. “I turned it in to the cookie mother yesterday. She said she had to make a deposit this morning.”
    I made a note of the cookie mother’s name and number. For good measure, I had Jenny go over the story one more time while I took detailed notes. “Is this going to help?” Jenny asked when we finished and I had closed my notebook.
    â€œI certainly hope so,” I said.
    â€œAnd can I tell the kids at school that I’m helping solve a murder?” she asked.
    â€œDon’t tell them yet,” I told her. “I’ll let you know when it’s okay to say something.”
    Jenny looked at me seriously. “Can girls be detectives when they grow up?”
    â€œYou bet they can,” I told her. “You’ll grow up to be anything you want to be. I’d put money on it.”
    Sue Griffith got up. Jenny did, too. “We’d better be going,” Sue said.
    â€œThanks for buying all those cookies,” Jenny said. “But if you run out, I’ll still be selling next week. The sale lasts for three weeks.”
    Jenny Griffith was evidently born with selling in her blood. I had a Porsche full of Girl Scout cookies to prove it.
    I never did remember to buy the coffee. The coffee or the MacNaughton’s, either.
    I called Peters as soon as I got home. “Guess what?” I said.
    â€œI give up.”
    â€œJoanna Ridley was at the Coliseum on Friday.”
    â€œI thought she didn’t like basketball.”
    â€œWe’ve got a Girl Scout who says someone who looked like Joanna Ridley paid for the cookies we found in his trunk. By check.”
    â€œShe wrote a check?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œSo what do we do now, Coach?” Peters asked.
    â€œI’d say we take a real serious look at the Widow Ridley and find out what makes her tick.”
    â€œStarting with United Airlines?”
    â€œThat’s as good a place to start as any.”
    â€œHow about the neighbors?”
    â€œThem,