“Surely Miz Claudia didn’t mean that in the literal sense. I’ll make a case it was a harmless statement made under duress. I’ll stress Miz Ledeaux is a savvy business woman who’d use the legal system-not a Smith and Wesson-to get rid of the bastard. Sorry for the vulgarity, ma’am,” he apologized, “but that best describes the deceased.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe my information wasn’t so damning after all. People used figures of speech all the time, didn’t they? Especially under duress. What greater stress could there be than realizing the man you’d just married was out to rob you blind? Claudia’s remarks were perfectly justified.

“Would you like me to accompany you to the sheriff’s office?” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch. “I have an appointment in about ten minutes, but I’d be happy to cancel.”

I could tell from where I sat it was a Rolex-the real deal and probably worth at least a thousand dollars. Seeing it made me feel better. He must be very good at his job to be able to afford such an expensive piece of jewelry. Talking to him made me feel marginally better. “That won’t be necessary,” I told him, “but I’ll program your number into speed dial-just in case.”

BJ came over to me, and taking both my hands in his, said, “Miz Claudia is fortunate to have a friend like you. Don’t you worry none. I’ll do right by her.”

My newly acquired calm, however, vanished the instant I entered the sheriff’s office.

Glancing up from her desk, Tammy Lynn shoved her overly large glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “Afternoon, Miz McCall. Sheriff said to send you straight to the interrogation room down the hall. He’s waitin’.”

I gave myself a pep talk as I proceeded down the hallway. I had nothing to fear but fear itself. I don’t remember who said it first, but it seemed to fit the occasion. I’d always answered the sheriff’s questions truthfully. I hadn’t lied. Might have left out a few teensy details was all. If he’d asked me whether I’d heard Claudia scream that she’d get Lance out of her life-“one way or another”-I’d have replied, yes, matter of fact I did hear that. It wasn’t my fault the sheriff didn’t ask the right questions.

I found the sheriff seated in his favorite creaky chair. “Have a seat, Miz McCall,” he said without looking up from the folder in front of him.

I gingerly sat in the lone chair opposite him, placed my purse beside me on the worn-tile floor, and folded my hands primly on the table. “You wanted to see me, Sheriff?”

“Seems like you and I have some unfinished business.” He glanced up and skewered me like a beef kabob with that sharp gaze of his. He looked around. “What, no gifts, no presents, this time? My, my, what’s the world comin’ to?”

He was mocking my gift-bringing habit. In New Or-leans, I believe there’s a term for such generosity: lagniappe, meaning a small gift for nothing. Truth was, I’d debated bringing him a little something, but decided against it at the last minute.

“Knowing how your mind works, Sheriff, I was afraid even a tiny gift might be misconstrued as a bribe.”

“You’re absolutely right, ma’am. This isn’t a social call. You might even call it an official interrogation.”

Oh dear, I was in for it now. We’d gone from interview to interrogation. Time for me to come clean and beg forgiveness. Bless me, Sheriff, for I have sinned…

Chapter 25

Sheriff Wiggins consulted his notes. “I had a nice chat with Miz Marietta Perkins, who works the desk at the rec center in Serenity Cove Estates. Miz Perkins happened to be on the job the night of Mr. Lance Ledeaux’s untimely demise.”

Marietta Perkins, huh. That little snitch. Wait ’til I tell the Babes about her loose lips. See if we chip in for a nice gift come next Christmas.

“Miz Perkins said you arrived at the auditorium that night shortly after Mr. and Missus Ledeaux.”

“And if I did?”

He ignored my question. “Miz Perkins also claims she heard loud arguin’ comin’ from that direction and, bein’ a conscientious person an’ all, went to investigate. Said she started to open the door, and she saw you standin’ there. She was about to say somethin’ but returned to answer the phone at the front desk. Her memory is quite clear on the subject. She’s the sort who pays attention to detail.”

Attention to detail, my foot. Marietta Perkins was what Granny would’ve called a Nosy Parker and what Mama would’ve called a busybody. In either case, she was a woman who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.

“What I want to know is this,” the sheriff continued. “Did the argument between Mr. and Missus Ledeaux have to do with money?”

Before I could answer, he held up a hand-a hand large enough to serve as a Stop sign. All it needed was some red and white paint. “Let me share another item of interest. I have it on good authority Mr. Ledeaux placed a rather large bet on the Super Bowl-a bet, by the way, he’d have lost. Ten thousand is a heap of money.”

“Ten thousand?”

Something in my tone must have alerted him. His brows knit in a frown. “Lot of folks argue over lesser amounts.”

I mentally replayed my earlier conversation with Claudia. The amount she’d mentioned was considerably more than ten thousand, though I have to agree with the sheriff on one point: Ten thousand is a heap of money.

“I’ll admit I did hear them talk about a Super Bowl bet. Lance, it seems, had a gambling problem, but you know that already, so why am I here?”

“Any other financial problems you’re aware of?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Lance had expensive tastes and a limited budget. My friend, Mrs. Ledeaux, told him she’d had enough of his spending.”

“Was that all she said?”

“Ah, not exactly.” I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable. Criminals probably confessed just so they could find a softer chair.

The sheriff leaned back, folding his arms over a line-backer-sized chest. “S’pose you define ‘not exactly.’”

I stared down at my folded hands. I could use a manicure, I noted. I could use a good stiff drink even more. How far would I get if I made a run for it? I recalled BJ’s advice: Come clean and don’t embellish. I hauled in a deep breath and let it rip. “I heard Claudia tell Lance she’d find a way to get him out of her life. I think she planned to divorce the low-down, nest egg-sucking snake.”

“She mention divorce?”

“Not in so many words.” I took one look at that lifted brow and those hard-as-drill-bit eyes and knew I was going to sing like a canary. “She might have said something along the lines of, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’ ”

He made a note of this.

I felt like pond scum. No need for thumbscrews. Just call me Tweety Bird. “I suppose you know about the Jag?” I asked in a small voice.

“As in Jaguar… the expensive automobile?”

I nodded miserably. “Lance ordered one from a dealer in Augusta.”

The sheriff let out a low whistle. “Man sure had good taste.”

Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Through my most grievous fault. Forgive me, Claudia, I have caved. At this point in the interrogation hardened felons, repeat offenders, even psychopaths, probably broke down and confessed to stealing crayons from the five-and-dime as youngsters. Sheriff Wiggins, alias the Grand Inquisitor, had that kind of effect once he shifted into “official” mode.

“That’s it. Am I free to leave?”

“It would’ve saved us both time and effort if you’d told me all this at the beginnin’,” he drawled lazily. “Wouldn’t have had to call you back, but now you know the difference between an interview and an interrogation.”

I stood, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Just because Lance was a freeloader doesn’t mean Claudia killed him. You admitted yourself that he was a gambler. Anyone could have put a bullet in that gun.”

“Who’d know Ledeaux would step into the role of villain that particular night and insist they use props?”