Jack and Katy were chatting over foam cups of coffee, a tape recorder open on the desk between them. They both smiled, Katy’s face serene. Evidently the statement had gone well.
“Hello, Chére,” Jack said. “Carol’s typing up Katy’s statement, and we can do yours now.”
I handed Katy the keys to my Jeep. “I’ve got the groceries.”
“Wonderful,” Katy said as she stood. “I think I’ll wait at the soda counter in The General Store. Will Trucker and Miss Molly be all right?”
“They’ll be fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
With her back to Jack, Katy tossed me a grimace and a slight shake of her head. She tapped a manicured thumb on a fingertip. Jack must have taken her fingerprints. Then she hurried out the door. I sat in her chair, crossed my legs, and waited while Jack put in a new tape. He closed the lid, locking the tape in place, leaned back, and crossed his arms as he studied me.