Part 12 (1/2)
”Oh, that is strange.”
Marjorie nodded. ”So, I've been working with Nettles on the investigation.”
”Naturally. He's Jameson in this whole thing,” Creighton remarked.
Marjorie gave Creighton a mock snarl. ”There are lots of things that don't quite add up.”
”It's a murder investigation. I expect there would be.”
”Do you get a phone call?”
”What do you mean?” he asked.
”In the movies, when a person is arrested, they get one phone call. Do you get one?”
Creighton shrugged. ”Jackson asked me if I wanted to call my solicitor, so I imagine so.”
”Good. But we're not calling your solicitor,” she clarified.
”I'm not? Then who am I-pardon-'we' calling?”
”We're calling Jameson,” Marjorie said flatly.
”Why, are you lining up a replacement in case I get sent to the gallows?” he smirked.
”What, and go on another honeymoon? No thanks. I'm calling Jameson to ask him to do some research for me-um, us.” She flashed a brilliant smile.
”You'd better not be bringing him here. Legend has it that if a person meets their doppelganger, they die.”
Marjorie pulled a face. ”Of course, I'm not bringing him here. I need him to make some phone calls to some people in the States.”
”Phone calls?” Creighton repeated with distaste. ”Excuse me if I seem ungrateful, but couldn't you make those calls from a payphone and save 'our' phone call for a solicitor?”
”A solicitor will defend you when you go to court in a few months. A call to Jameson could help me to exonerate you completely.” She glanced at the grimy bearded man sleeping in the cell next to Creighton's. ”Not to mention immediately.”
Creighton followed her gaze and sighed. ”All right, call Jameson. But if he wants us to name our first born after him in return, all bets are off.”
”More Perfection Salad, Detective?” Louise Schutt offered sweetly.
”I'll take some, dear,” requested the timid voice of Walter Schutt from the opposite end of the table.
”I wasn't asking you, Walter,” Louise replied sharply. ”I was asking Detective Jameson.”
Jameson dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. ”That would be terrific, Mrs. Schutt. Thank you.”
”Never any trouble,” Louise a.s.sured as she placed a wedge of gelatinized salad daintily on his plate.
Walter, meanwhile, held his plate out in hopes of receiving the next serving.
”And you, Sharon?” Louise asked her daughter who, despite the presence of a fifth guest, was conspicuously seated at the same side of the table as Jameson.
”Oh, I shouldn't, Mama,” she refused, ”I have to watch my girlish figure.”
Jameson glanced at Sharon. He was willing to bet that, in her twenty years of life, the only thing she had watched her figure do was to expand.
”Don't be silly, Sharon,” Louise goaded. ”Men like a woman with a bit of meat on them. Don't they, Detective?”
”Oh, um,” Jameson answered, completely disinterested in anything but the roast chicken on his plate. ”Yeah, of course they do.”
Sharon emitted a high-pitched t.i.tter punctuated by a loud snort of delight.
Louise, in the meantime, portioned some Perfection Salad onto Sharon's plate and then absently put the serving platter back onto the table.
”Ehem,” Walter cleared his throat and pushed his plate out farther.
”Oh, I'm sorry, dear,” Louise stated. She picked up the platter and, with a flick of her wrist, flung a piece of salad onto his plate with an unappetizing ”plop.”
Walter gave a hurt glance in his wife's direction before conceding with a shrug. ”So,” he started as he put the dish down in front of him, ”I hear there's a suspicious character on the loose.”
”Hmm? Yes, one of my men, Officer Noonan-perhaps you remember him?-saw someone lurking around the green the other day.” Jameson put a piece of boiled potato into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it. ”I wouldn't worry, though. Noonan's one of my best men. He probably has it all wrapped up by now.”
”Mrs. Wilson said Officer Noonan slept on Emily Patterson's porch last night. That doesn't sound 'wrapped up' to me,” Walter Schutt spoke out.
”What does this person look like?” Mrs. Schutt asked.
”Six foot tall, graying hair, green eyes, and a ruthless jaw,” Schutt described.
”Six foot tall? Ruthless jaw?” Jameson repeated incredulously. ”Where did you hear that?”
Louise Schutt gasped. ”Sounds dangerous. Maybe we should put an extra lock on the shop door.”
”I'm sure your shop is fine,” Jameson rea.s.sured.
The Schutt family, however, would have nothing of it.
”I'll take care of the shop door first thing in the morning,” Walter stated.
”I'll make sure all the doors are locked after Detective Jameson leaves tonight, Mama,” Sharon proposed.
”Good idea, sweetheart,” Louise praised her daughter. ”And until this fellow is caught, I don't think it's safe for you to go out alone. What do you think, Walter?”
”Definitely not,” Schutt agreed as he snuck more chicken and potatoes onto his plate.
”Your father's right, Sharon.” Louise warned, ”You never know what's on young men's mind these days!”
”Young? The suspect has gray hair,” Jameson pointed out.
”Oh, I'm sorry, Detective Jameson,” Louise apologized, oblivious to anything but her own family's fear. ”I wasn't including you in my statement. I was talking about other young men who weren't brought up as well as you were.”
”I didn't think you were including me,” Jameson stated.