Dead Giveaway Read Free

about Verna Mae lying dead so close by and wondering if her death had some sad connection to my client.
      I counted five cops besides Jeff, both uniformed and plainclothes. Three of them had taken advantage of the crime scene location and held steaming cups of coffee. Not the smallest size, either. Two others were interviewing a tattooed, fair-skinned Hispanic kid who couldn't have been more than twenty. His canvas apron bore the Last Drop's logo.
      Jeff was seated at one of the half dozen small round tables lining the wall opposite the espresso bar. I took the bentwood kelly green chair across from him. He repositioned himself so his knee fit between both of mine and I mouthed a thank-you for the comfort he must have known this would provide.
      ''No coffee, I take it?'' he asked.
      ''No,'' I said emphatically.
      ''Can you give me the victim's address so I can get someone on this notification?''
      I did, and he wrote this in his notebook.
      ''She was a widow,'' I said. ''Lived alone. I'm not sure who they'll notify.''
      ''We'll contact the local cops for help. I've never heard of this town. What county are we talking about?''
      ''Liberty,'' I said.
      Jeff waved over a patrolman, tore off the address I'd given him and said, ''Get on this notification. Liberty County address.''
      ''Sure, Sarge,'' he answered, and left for a more quiet corner of the cafe´ to make the call.
      Jeff refocused on me. His short blond hair glittered with rain, and the stubble on his chin looked more copper than golden in this light. He took two sticks of Big Red gum from his rain-dampened shirt, unwrapped them and folded them into his mouth. After he'd chewed a few seconds, he said, ''As I mentioned, this looks like assault and robbery. Do you know anything about the victim that would make me see this differently?''
      ''Not really, considering I only met her once. But I can tell you she was alive two hours ago.''
      Jeff looked at his watch. ''Seven?''
      I nodded, and he jotted this down. ''I take it you couldn't ID her because her purse was missing.'' I said this more to myself than to him, feeling calm enough to think logically now. ''Where'd you find her phone?''
      ''In the alley. She must have dropped it.''
      ''You couldn't find out who she was from that?''
      ''Prepaid. Never been used. Didn't even know it was hers for sure until you called. And yes, her purse is missing. So far we have no witnesses to an assault, but we have her name, so maybe we can match her with one of the cars in the lot—although the asshole might have stolen that, too.''
      ''She drives a Cadillac,'' I said. ''Late model, cream colored. I saw it in the driveway when I went to her house.''
      Jeff rolled his eyes. ''She probably had one of those damn Gucci purses slung on her arm and a three-carat diamond on her finger.''
      ''More like one carat,'' I said quietly. ''And a gold Rolex.''
      ''I didn't see those. Christ. Why didn't she plaster a sign on her back that said ROB ME
    ?''
      ''She struck me as someone who wouldn't have known any better,'' I said. ''Lady wasn't hooked up right, Jeff. Very odd person, and I'm being respectful of the dead when I say odd .''
      ''I'm interested in your take on her, but hang on.'' He again used his phone to walkie-talkie with Rick. ''Look for a cream-colored Cadillac in the lot. Might belong to the victim.'' He closed the phone and looked at me again. ''You say the Olsen woman was obsessed with an abandoned baby case?''
      ''Yes. Gosh, where do I begin? The interview with her was . . . strange.''
      ''Strange. Okay. Keep talking.''
      ''My client's a young man named Will Knight.''
       ''Will Knight?'' Jeff said, sounding surprised. ''How old is he?''
      ''Young. Nineteen.''
      ''Does he play basketball at the University of Texas?''
      ''You've heard of him?''
      ''Heard of him? Why didn't you tell me when you took his case? He's the best product to come