Down Home and Deadly

hit the hardwood floor and flew into pieces.
    Debbie gasped. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
    We both scrambled for the pieces. “It’s just the battery cover,” I said. But my hands trembled as I put it back on.
    “Do you think it still works?” she whispered.
    “If it could survive the diner’s scraps, it can surely survive this.” I hit the power button , and we watched the light come on.
    “Now what?” she asked.
    I shrugged and set the phone on her end table. “Now it’s all yours.”
    Panic flitted across her face. “Jenna! You can’t do this. You’re the one who fished it out of the trash.”
    “I won’t make that mistake again.”
    Suddenly , the phone made a little beep , and we both jumped. “What was that?” I asked.
    She bent down and gingerly picked it up. “I’ve got a missed call.”
    “You do?”
    Her eyes widened , and she put her hand to her chest. “You don’t think?” She mouthed the words, “J.D.?”
    “No!” I shook my head. “Definitely not.”
    “What if it is? What if he’s in a witness protection program or something and he’s not really dead? And I don’t call him back?”
    “Fine. Call him back.”
    She shoved the phone at me. “You do it.”
    “No, ma’am.” I crossed my arms in front of me and conjured up a mental picture of the little eight - year - old girl at the pool. It wasn’t my fault if Debbie was going off the deep end. “If you want to call, you do it.”
    She fumbled around and pulled up the missed - call number. “It’s not his number.”
    Why was I not surprised?
    “But it wouldn’t be if he was in hiding somehow.” She took a deep breath and pushed the SEND button. “It’s ringing,” she whispered.
    I nodded, leaning toward her in spite of myself.
    She obligingly stepped closer to me and held the phone where we could both hear.
    “This is Chief Conner. Who is this?” an angry - sounding male voice barked.
    John. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
    Debbie’s face paled , and she raised her eyebrows at me.
    “Tell him,” I mouthed.
    She shook her head.
    “Hello?” he growled.
    We just stared at each other again. “ Not my responsibility, ” I kept repeating to myself.
    “Listen! The phone you have is evidence in a murder case. Bring it to the Lake View police station immediately. We have ways of tracing the geographical position of this phone call. It will go easier for you if you bring it here.”
    Debbie gasped loudly and flipped the phone shut.
    She sank down on her freshly vacuumed couch and burst into tears. “This is just too much,” she sobbed.
    My new resolve wavered. It had been a hard day. Debbie had already been to the funeral of someone she cared about.
    I sat beside her. “I’ll go with you.”
    She reached for my hand. I took hers. She palmed the phone to me and slipped her hand away. “I can’t do it, Jenna. If you do it, maybe you can calm John down.”
    “Ha!” Had she ever seen me with John?
    She pushed her blond hair out of her face and looked at me. Tears still flowed freely down her cheeks. “I mean it. You have to at least try. I’ll stay here and change clothes . . . ” She ducked her head again. “And get ready to be arrested.”
    “Why would they arrest you?”
    “Withholding evidence? Or maybe he’ll think I killed J.D. so that Lisa can’t have him.” She picked up a needlepoint pillow and buried her face in it.
    Why had I thought I could let other people handle their own problems? I sighed. “I’ll take the phone to John and talk to him.”
    She pulled the pillow down from her face and hugged me. “I have a confession.”
    “What?” I braced myself, not sure I could keep any more of her secrets.
    She grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped her nose. “I used to think you weren’t good enough for Alex.”
    I blew out the breath I’d been holding. “I’m sure you were right.” Debbie had never made it a secret that she would like to go out with Alex.
    She sighed. “Nah, I was wrong. And if you can keep John from making a mess of this, I’ll sing at your wedding.”
    I laughed softly. “Thanks.”
    *****
    “I’m Jenna Stafford. I need to see Chief Conner, please,” I informed the uniformed officer at the front desk. He chewed his gum furiously for a minute while studying my face as if memorizing it for future reference. Probably thought he’d be seeing it on a w anted poster. “Please? It’s important.”
    “Hold your horses,” he said