The Fatal Funnel Cake (16 page)

“Don't worry, I didn't track you down through any nefarious means. Although I have some acquaintances who probably could have hacked the GPS in your phone and pinpointed your location within a few feet. That's one thing about being in my line of work—”

“You know some shady characters?”

Miller laughed as he got to his feet. “I've never heard it described any better.” He put out his hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Newsom. It's been a pleasure talking to you. I sense that we're kindred spirits, if you will. We both like to get to the bottom of things and discover the truth.”

“That's right,” Phyllis said as she shook his hand. “I hope that'll be enough to find Joye Jameson's killer.”

Chapter 22

W
hen the lawyer was gone, Carolyn asked, “What in the world was that all about?”

Sam said, “Maybe Phyllis can't tell us. The fella did say there were confidentiality issues.”

“He didn't trust you because he doesn't know you,” Phyllis said. “I do.”

Peggy said, “Hey, you've only known me for a little less than a week.”

“Yes, but you're Carolyn's cousin. If she trusts you, then so do I.”

“Peggy is absolutely trustworthy,” Carolyn declared. “We've known each other since we were children.”

“Good enough for me,” Phyllis said. “Mr. Miller wanted to get my version of what happened at the fair yesterday afternoon. So I told him all of it the way I saw it.” She paused, unsure whether to mention the rest of the conversation. But these were her friends, so she was sure they would understand. “He'd also heard of me because of my involvement in those other cases—”

“So he wants to hire you as a detective,” Peggy broke in. “You should get a private investigator's license.”

“Phyllis Newsom, private eye,” Sam drawled. The brief glare Phyllis shot in his direction just made him chuckle.

“No, Mr. Miller didn't want to hire me,” she said. “He just sort of picked my brain a little. And I'm not going to be getting any sort of license other than my driver's license when it's time to renew it. I don't need a new line of work, thank you very much.”

Carolyn asked, “Did the two of you come to any conclusion about who might have murdered Joye Jameson if Bailey Broderick didn't?”

“Unfortunately, no. The police haven't turned over their evidence yet, so at this point Mr. Miller doesn't even know why they thought they had sufficient grounds to arrest her. He's hoping to find out more over the weekend, including getting a copy of the autopsy report.”

“If they've even done an autopsy yet. From what I hear, those things get backed up all the time.”

“With Joye Jameson bein' a celebrity, I'll bet they got to it right away,” Sam said. “It'd mean some bad publicity if they didn't.”

Carolyn said, “Hmph. If Dallas was really worried about bad publicity, you'd think they'd do something about the traffic!”

•   •   •

Since it had been such a busy day, Phyllis and Carolyn just prepared Lousiana-style muffulettas for supper. When they were finished, Peggy said, “I'm not sure I want you people to go home tomorrow. I haven't eaten this good in years.”

“I'm going to leave a batch of cookies for you,” Carolyn said.

“And we'll make a big breakfast before we leave in the morning,” Phyllis added.

“That sounds good,” Peggy said. As she spoke, the doorbell sounded. “Again?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “I don't remember the last time I had this many people ringing my doorbell.”

While Peggy got up to see who was at the door, Phyllis and Carolyn began clearing the table. Eve said, “Let me help. Since I don't cook, I never feel like I'm pulling my weight when you two are around. Good looks and a sparkling wit are only worth so much, you know.”

They were about to start out to the kitchen when Peggy appeared in the dining room door with an odd expression on her face that Phyllis noticed right away. Peggy said, “Somebody else here to see you, Phyllis. You're popular today.”

“Who is it?” Phyllis asked.

Peggy glanced around the room nervously, then whispered, “The cops.”

“What!” Carolyn said.

Peggy nodded. “Well, just one cop, actually. That woman detective.”

Phyllis figured she meant Detective Charlotte Morgan. “I'll talk to her,” she said. She didn't know what this was about, other than being connected to Joye Jameson's murder, obviously, but there was only one way to find out.

“She's waiting in the living room,” Peggy said.

“Did she have a warrant?” Carolyn asked.

Peggy frowned. “You know, I, uh, didn't think to ask.”

“Whatever they want, always make them show you a warrant. That's my rule now.”

“I think we can dispense with the warrant this time,” Phyllis said. “I don't have anything to hide.”

“We should come with you,” Carolyn insisted. “Just in case that woman tries any strong-arm tactics.”

“I'm pretty sure I'll be fine,” Phyllis told her. “But if I need help . . . well, you're all within earshot, aren't you?”

“We certainly are, and we'll be right here close by until the police are gone.”

Phyllis nodded her gratitude and went past Peggy. She walked along the hall from the dining room and turned to go through the entrance into the living room.

Charlotte Morgan was sitting on the divan with a smartphone in her hand, swiping a fingertip over the screen. She looked up as Phyllis came into the room.

“Mrs. Newsom,” she said as she slipped the phone back into her purse. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“I always try to cooperate with the police. My son is a law enforcement officer.”

“Sheriff's deputy over in Parker County, right?”

“That's right.”

“You're used to having his help when you investigate crimes, aren't you?”

The blunt question annoyed Phyllis, but she kept her voice level and polite as she said, “I've never asked Mike to do anything that wasn't proper.”

“But you took his help when he volunteered it, didn't you, including sharing evidence with you?”

Phyllis ignored that question and asked, “What can I do for you, Detective?”

“You don't seem surprised that I know about your history with criminal investigations,” Morgan commented rather than answering Phyllis's question. They were trading being stubborn, Phyllis thought.

She didn't care for this fencing. Without mentioning David Miller's visit, she said, “I've recently discovered that there's quite a bit of information about me on the Internet.”

“You didn't know that before?”

“Honestly, it never even occurred to me to look.”

“Well, you must not have a vain bone in your body,” Morgan said.

“Why did
you
look up those websites, Detective?”

“Until today you were a person of interest in Joye Jameson's death, Mrs. Newsom. I'm sorry if that offends you—”

“I'm not offended,” Phyllis said. “I suppose you had to look into the background of everyone who was there on the set, as well as the crew members who were nearby.”

“That's right.” Morgan smiled, but the expression wasn't particularly friendly. “You know, the things you've been mixed up with in the past might just make this easier. You know something about how an investigation works.”

Phyllis shrugged. “I know enough to figure that you came here for a reason, which you still haven't told me.”

“All right.” Morgan's tone hardened as she went on, “This is a high-profile case. A TV star and bestselling author dies under mysterious circumstances, and it's big news all across the country. My partner and I wanted to make sure we had all the possibilities covered, so until we knew for sure whether or not Joye Jameson was murdered, we proceeded on the assumption that her death was a homicide.”

“Which clearly it was, or you wouldn't have arrested Bailey Broderick.”

Morgan didn't respond to that. She continued, “We'd been keeping an eye on the people involved until we got the results back from the autopsy. Once the arrest warrant was issued, all the other surveillance was supposed to be pulled off. But the officers who were watching you were still on the job when Ms. Broderick's attorney came to see you.”

“You were watching me?” Phyllis said. A note of outrage crept into her voice, even though she knew it wasn't really justified. There was nothing wrong with keeping possible suspects under surveillance; that was just smart police work.

But even though she knew that logically, she still didn't like being spied on.

“It wouldn't be proper for me to ask you what David Miller talked to you about—”

“And that's good,” Phyllis said, “because I don't intend to tell you.”

“But I will say that if you're thinking about conducting your own investigation into this case—playing detective, to put it bluntly—you'd be smart to forget it. You'll just wind up in trouble. This isn't a little town like Weatherford where you can get away with something like that.” A hint of a smirk stole onto Morgan's face as she added, “And even over there, you got arrested for interfering with an investigation, didn't you?”

“You already know that or you wouldn't be asking the question,” Phyllis said. “That's the only reason you came to see me, to warn me to stay out of the case?”

“Why else would I be here? I'm not going to share all our evidence with you, if that's what you're waiting for, so you can solve everything for us poor dumb cops. Besides, we've already arrested the person who killed Joye Jameson.”

“You're wrong,” Phyllis said. “Bailey Broderick didn't do anything of the sort. I was right there, as close to her as I am to you right now, and I can swear she had no idea Joye was going to have that allergic reaction.”

“She's got you fooled; that's all.”

Phyllis shook her head. “I don't believe that.”

Morgan stood up. “Well, luckily for me, it doesn't matter what you believe or don't believe,” she said. “All that matters is the evidence. And trust me on this . . . Bailey Broderick killed Joye Jameson. There's absolutely no doubt about that.”

“You can't stop me from talking to her attorney, you know,” Phyllis said as Morgan turned toward the door.

“We wouldn't dream of interfering with the legal process like that,” Morgan said. “Miller can come up with whatever defense he wants to. It's not going to do any good. I'll let myself out.”

“Fine,” Phyllis said. “Good evening, Detective.”

The words sounded more civil than she wanted to be at that moment.

When Detective Morgan was gone, the others emerged from the hallway. Phyllis wondered if they had been listening to the entire conversation. She wouldn't be surprised, nor could she bring herself to be mad at them if they had.

“Boy, talk about a nasty little ice queen,” Peggy said.

“I think there are even stronger words that could be used if we weren't all ladies,” Eve said. She inclined her head toward Sam. “And one very chivalrous gentleman.”

“I'm not feelin' too chivalrous at the moment,” Sam said. “They've got a lot of nerve, stakin' out Phyllis like that.”

“I didn't care for that, either, but I can understand why they did it,” Phyllis said. “Until they knew for sure what had happened, they had to assume the worst about everybody.”

Sam said, “She sounded mighty sure about Bailey Broderick bein' the killer, too.”

“I was just thinking about that . . . and I believe in one way she might be right.”

Carolyn frowned. “What? I don't believe it! Bailey Broderick is no murderer.”

Phyllis smiled and shook her head. She said, “That's not what I meant. Bailey may have killed Joye, but I still don't believe she's a murderer.”

They all frowned at her in confusion, but Phyllis didn't say anything else. She had to think about it some more first.

Chapter 23

L
ater that evening, Phyllis caught Peggy alone in the kitchen and said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Shoot,” Peggy said.

“Would you mind if we stayed a few more days? Those of us who want to, I mean.”

“Mind?” Peggy repeated. “Honey, haven't I been saying that I hate to see you go? Having company this week has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

Phyllis smiled. “I know, but I don't want us to wear out our welcome. You know the old saying about guests and fish?”

“How they both start to stink in three days? I'm sure that's true for some people, but to be honest, you folks don't really seem like guests. Carolyn's family, of course, and that's sort of the way I've started to feel about the rest of you. And like I said, I haven't eaten this good in ages! You think I want to go back to eating my own cooking so soon?”

Phyllis laughed and said, “Well, I suppose it's settled, then. I'll have to talk to the others and make sure none of them have to get back to Weatherford by a certain time.”

“Old geezers like us don't have a lot of pressing engagements, except maybe with the funeral home.” Peggy paused. “Let me ask you a question, though. Does staying here in Dallas have something to do with that murder case?”

“Well . . .”

“I knew it! You're going to solve it, aren't you? Carolyn told me how you're like a pit bull. Once you get your jaws locked on a mystery, nobody can pry you loose until you're ready to let go.”

“I'm not sure I like being compared to a pit bull, but it's true that I don't think Bailey is guilty. And now that she's been arrested, the police aren't going to be looking for anyone else. They think they have the killer.”

“You never did explain about that.”

“No, I didn't,” Phyllis said.

Peggy smiled. “That's right, be mysterious. You'll come clean sooner or later. And when you do, I'll be interested to hear what you have to say. So yeah, stay here as long as you like. I'll be glad to have you.”

With that settled, Phyllis went to talk to the others. They were all in the living room. She said, “I don't want to cause trouble for anyone, but I've decided to stay here in Dallas for a while. The rest of you are free to go back to Weatherford, of course.”

“I wondered how long it was going to take you to get around to that,” Carolyn said. “You don't want to leave Joye Jameson's murder unsolved, do you?”

Eve added, “We all expected this, dear.”

“And we don't mind stayin' as long as Peggy's willin' to put up with us,” Sam said.

“Phyllis already checked with me,” Peggy said as she came in the room. “I told her you could all stay as long as you want to. Heck, even being on the edges of a murder case is probably more excitement than I'll have the rest of my life.”

Phyllis said, “It's pretty likely that the police or Mr. Miller will want to talk to me again, and it would be easier to do that if I was here in town, instead of coming all the way over from Weatherford every time they have questions for me. So there's a practical reason for staying, too.”

“I don't care about that,” Peggy said. “I just want to be around when you figure out who the real killer is.”

“I hope your confidence in me isn't misplaced.”

“It never has been so far,” Sam said.

•   •   •

With that settled, Phyllis was able to turn in and get a surprisingly good night's sleep. It was a little after nine o'clock the next morning when her cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but when she answered, she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“How are you this morning, Mrs. Newsom?” David Miller asked.

“I'm all right, I suppose,” Phyllis said. “Did you know that the police had Mrs. Stockton's house under surveillance yesterday evening when you came here?”

“What? That's an outrage!” Miller paused. “Sorry. Being upset about what the police do is just a matter of habit, I suppose. Actually, I'm not at all surprised to hear that, although I would have thought they'd have been pulled off that detail by then, since they'd already made an arrest.”

“I think there was a mix-up in communications somewhere,” Phyllis told him. “That's the impression I got from Detective Morgan, anyway.”

“Charlotte Morgan talked to you?” This time, the attorney sounded genuinely surprised.

“That's right; she came by here yesterday evening.”

“What did she want?”

“She looked me up on the Internet just like you did. She came to warn me not to interfere with the investigation into Joye Jameson's murder.”

Miller grunted and said, “What investigation? They seem to think they have a solid case against Ms. Broderick already. The ADA at the bail hearing a few minutes ago claimed that she was a flight risk. He played the Hollywood celebrity card and tried to convince the judge that Bailey has enough money and influence to escape this jurisdiction. I was able to cut his legs out from under him, though, by playing the same card right back at him. If Ms. Broderick is really that big a celebrity, I said, then where could she go to hide?”

“No offense to anyone,” Phyllis said, “but I don't think Bailey is really that big a celebrity. Nobody but a fan of
The Joye of Cooking
would even know who she is, and most people who watch the show probably wouldn't remember her name or even what she looks like.”

“That's true. Anyway, the judge turned down the no-bail request and set it in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars. The bondsman I work with was able to handle that without any problem. We're on our way to my office right now.”

“We?” Phyllis repeated.

“Ms. Broderick and myself.”

“Oh, my goodness. You don't have me on speakerphone, do you? I wouldn't want Bailey to hear me saying that she's not really a celebrity yet.”

“Don't worry about that,” Miller told her. “I was wondering if you could join us.”

“You want me to come to your office?”

“If that's possible. Do you know where it is?”

“You gave me your card yesterday. I'm sure my friend Sam could find the place . . .” Phyllis looked at Sam, who had been following her end of the conversation along with Carolyn, Eve, and Peggy. He nodded to indicate that he didn't mind taking her to Miller's office. “Yes, I suppose I can meet you there.”

“Excellent. As soon as you can get here, then, if that's all right.”

“We'll leave in just a few minutes,” Phyllis promised.

Miller thanked her, then said good-bye and broke the connection.

“That happened a little sooner than I expected it to,” Carolyn commented. “You're going to be right in the middle of this case, as usual, Phyllis.”

“I'd just as soon there was nothing ‘usual' about a murder case,” Phyllis said. “I wish I knew why he wants me to be involved. You'd think a defense attorney wouldn't invite a civilian, so to speak, to help him with a case.”

“I can tell you why he wants your help,” Sam said. “He wants to be able to bring you into court and show you off to the jury. You're the famous crime-bustin' granny, and if you think his client is innocent, why, she must be.”

“Publicity,” Phyllis said. “He wants to try the case in the news media before it ever gets to court.”

“It might work,” Sam said. “Can't hurt to try.” He chuckled. “The fella doesn't know what he's really lettin' himself in for, though. He'll find out when you drop that killer right in his lap.”