Murder in Mossland Mississippi

Episode 5

            Chad pulled up to Fin’s and dropped off Debbi and the ice. “Won’t you come back in?” she pleaded. “Naw, had enough for one day. Time to get back to my own house for a while.” With that they both nodded and parted ways. Debbi stood there patiently waiting for the truck to turn out of sight. She thought for a moment that he might come back, but then she realized it was best for him to get some rest.

            Debbi and her dripping ice trotted back through the house heading straight for the kitchen sink. She plopped the cold bag into the empty side to keep it from forming a puddle on the old wooden floor. Janet was still running her mouth as usual.

 “So Deb, what did you find out?”

“Excuse me.”

“You went with him to find out if he killed his mama, didn’t you? Why else would you go?” declared Janet as she peered at Debbi with her beady brown eyes sopping in cheap blue eyes shadow. Janet was not a beauty like her sister. She had short mousey brown hair and a long pointy nose. Debbi had always thought it was fitting that her sister looked like a short stumpy witch since that is exactly how she acted. Janet was what they called “plump.” That was a nice way of saying could stand to lose twenty pounds. Sitting in the chair around the breakfast table, she looked almost thin. It was when she stood up and you saw the rest of her that was the problem.

            Snapping back into reality Debbie roared back at her, “I did no such thing! Chad is heartbroken and you know it, Janet! You have no right to say such things!”

            At that moment Lola burst in with Blake in tow. “Deb, Blake here wants to ask you a few questions. I told him this wasn’t a good time but he insisted.” That was Lola’s way of saying that she had argued with Blake but he was too stubborn to listen. As a result, she was sorry.

            “That’s fine, Lola. Thank you. Should we step on the back porch, Officer Weathersby?” Debbi said with her left arm extended to the back door. She had that fake southern smile on her face, which only a good-ole-boy or a fine Christian woman would know really meant “kiss my ass.” Fortunately for her, Blake knew exactly what it meant. He fumbled across the kitchen floor and made his way out the door.

            Debbi just looked at him with her hand on her hips and a kiss my ass grin on her face. Without saying a word, Blake threw his hands in the air in protest. “Now, Deb! I know what that look means and I’m not looking for an argument.” His tiny hands waved around in protest of the glare he was given. Blake was a smaller man, in his mid-twenties, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. The years on patrol had gotten to him. The lines on his eyes and the thinning hair told a tale of long nights and bad experiences.

“Then what exactly are you looking for, Blake?” She demanded.

“I just wanna know if you have noticed anything funny these past couple of months?”

“Funny? How?” demanded Debbi with her hand on her hip and her foot tapping rapidly.

“I mean have you noticed Chad acting in a way that’s just not normal? Like buying stuff he can’t afford or sneaking around places he normally doesn’t go?”

“What are you saying, Blake? Do you think he killed his mama? How dare you! He’s your family! Shouldn’t you and your mama be the real suspects? Everybody knows you both hated Lori with a passion!” and with that she was gone. All that was left on the back porch was a swinging screen door and Blake’s mouth hanging wide open.

            Back in the safety of the gossip room that is sometimes called a kitchen, Debbi began boiling water for the next round of sweet tea. She knew that no matter how mad she got or how good her arguments were, Chad was going to be the prime suspect.  His past was just that, in the past; but some people couldn’t let it go. Janet murmured in the corner something about Lori’s life insurance. Debbi could tell she was drawing a motive together. “Too many crime dramas on TV,” she mumbled to herself as she stared deep into the boiling pot of tea.