Ronna shows up about 2 hours after this, with bail. Ben hasn’t come back yet, but his deputy, that weasily little runt named Kenneth (not Kenny, thank you very much) Pritchard lets me out. Ronna seems like she can hardly wait to get outside ‘cause she is about to burst with what she has to tell me.
“Ben has bit off a little more’n he can chew here, Illa. Seems he has been playing house with Honey while Shirlanne was walking around the block, so to speak with none other than our victim. The Judge just shook his head, and granted bail, tol’ Ben to go sort this shee..um, stuff out before he came back to see him in this confounded murder case. So you are free on your own recognizance.”
“I’m glad about that but…Who did this awful thing, Ronna? That is what’s important.”
“I don’t think we are going to get much help from the Sheriff on this. But I know a guy…”
“Then let us go see that guy and get me off the hook, please, Madam Attorney.”
. . .
That is how I ended up down here at the quarry, past midnight, standing knee deep in muck and mess, waiting for Ronna’s guy to show. Ronna and me have a theory, mostly based on the little bit I know from Jimmy Ray’s life when we were together, and that Ronna has pieced together from what she learned in front of the judge at the bail hearing. We hope “Ronna’s guy” – his name is Frank Farfalle – can find the evidence down here.
A flash light calls us over to the deepest part of the dug out quarry, beckoning us like an usher at the Bijou. We see Frank standing in a chipped out crevice about 5 feet deep and 8 feet tall. When we get close enough, he calls out,
“Found it. Jes’ what you told me would be here. This should do ‘er when you show it to the Sheriff.” He held his flashlight so it shined down on a dirty piece of paper, smudged with what looked in the almost-dark, like a grease spot, but I would bet was blood.
We trudged back up the hill and climbed in Ronna’s nice new Ford Escort, scraping off as much dirt off our shoes as we could before hopping in.
. . .
A closer look in the light of my kitchen confirmed it. We made two important phone calls, the second to Sheriff Biggs. He agreed to meet us at the jailhouse.
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