Page 45 of June's First Murder
Gordon looked heavenward as though asking for divine patience. His jaw worked, and Sara Lee could practically see him counting to ten in his head. Before any heavenly assistance could be granted, Nana June leaned forward, her expression shifting from mischievous to serious in the span of a heartbeat.
"Sheriff Gordon, we're not trying to keep anythingfrom you. Nor are we intimating that you can't do the job." Her voice dropped, becoming more intimate, more earnest. "But I've been in this town for my whole life. I know most of the people you'll talk to. I knew their parents and some of their grandparents. I've watched them grow up and build lives."
She paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "And sometimes when a person sees the Sheriff walking up to them, they clam up. Get cautious. Fear what they might say. They start thinking about lawyers and rights and whether everything they say might be twisted or used against them."
Nana June gestured between herself and Sara Lee, her hand moving in a gentle arc. "But when they see us? Two women they've known their whole lives, women they see at the library, who serve coffee at the festival, who walk their dog down Main Street?" She shook her head slowly. "They talk to us. They unburden themselves. They explain their complicated feelings about a man who was cruel to them, who hurt them, who made their lives difficult."
She leaned back again, her expression softening. "We give them a chance to explain their situation with Raymond without the weight of official interrogation hanging over them."
This time, Sara Lee watched as Gordon shifted in his chair. He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. She realized she'd just watched a masterclass in how to handle Sheriff Gordon, taught by Nana June. Her grandmother had taken his frustration, acknowledgedit, validated it, and then gently redirected it into something closer to cooperation.
"So what can you tell me?" he asked, his tone shifting to something more professional but also more open. He clicked his pen, ready to take notes.
June met his eyes steadily. "First, was poison determined to be in his system? The drug found in Dr. Carl's vet clinic that is now missing?"
Gordon sucked in a hasty breath, his chest expanding as though he'd been punched. For a long moment, Sara Lee thought he wouldn't answer. Then, as though the words were being physically pulled from him against his will, he said, "Yes. I'm not giving you any information you have already heard. The whole town will be talking in a day or so."
He sighed heavily. "Dr. Ward told me there was a drug in Raymond's system besides all the bourbon he’d been drinking. Pentobarbital, the same kind used in Carl's practice. That a syringe of it is missing from the vet's office is too coincidental. I don't believe in coincidences like that."
"I agree," Nana June said simply. Her words carried no triumph, only acknowledgment of a shared truth.
Sara Lee swung her head around so fast her neck cracked, stunned at what had just been said. "No!" The word burst out of her before she could stop it. "It wasn't Carl! You can't think?—"
"Oh, my dear, I know that." Nana June's hand found Sara Lee's again and squeezed it gently. "Of course it wasn't Carl. But I think we'll find that someone took itfrom the clinic.” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "Now, how they managed it? That’s to be determined."
Gordon was watching them both now, his pen poised over his notebook. "Well, what have you got?" he asked, and Sara Lee noticed his voice had lost some of its earlier edge. He sounded more like a colleague now than an adversary. "You said you've been talking to people."
"Sara Lee?" Nana June prompted gently, nodding at her granddaughter.
Sara Lee took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. Where should she even start? With Barb at the coffee shop? With the visit to the Judge? With Lucy's cryptic warning on the street?
Her grandmother must have sensed her hesitation because Nana June began speaking, her voice steady and organized. She laid out everything they'd learned in a logical progression. She covered the confrontations at the festival, the conversations afterward, the connections they'd discovered. She talked about Horace's genuine grief mixed with relief. About Bob's mysterious business recovery. About Jerry's decades-old grudge. About Helena's nervous reaction to Raymond's accusations. About Lucy’s anger. About him accosting Diane at the end of the festival. She continued down the list that was memorized.
Sara Lee realized there was nothing wrong with Nana June’s memory. Or her ability to think logically. She watched Gordon's pen move across the page, taking notes in compacted handwriting. His expression gavenothing away, but she could tell he was listening, occasionally nodding or making a small sound of acknowledgment.
Nana June was careful about how she presented the information. She didn't accuse anyone. She didn't speculate beyond what they'd actually observed or been told. She simply laid out the facts and conversations, letting him draw his own conclusions.
"You have been busy," he said when she finished, a hint of admiration tinging his voice despite himself. He reviewed his notes, flipping back a page or two. "I knew about some of this. Obviously, the public confrontations at the festival. But some of these details..." He shook his head. "People do talk to you differently than they talk to me."
Nana June chuckled softly, the sound warm and slightly self-deprecating. "Who among us doesn’t have something to hide?" She then shook her head, her expression growing more serious. "But no, I was referring to the fact that Raymond will hardly be mourned as a beloved townsperson. And those feelings make people uncomfortable. Guilt that they're relieved he's dead. Shame that they hated him so much. Fear that their hatred might make them look like murderers."
She looked directly at him. "So we give them a chance to explain their complicated situation with the victim. To acknowledge that yes, they had reason to want him gone, but no, they didn't kill him. Sometimes people just need to be heard. To unburden themselves of the weight they're carrying."
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze movingbetween the two women. Then he closed his notebook with a decisive snap and stood up.
"All right," he said with a note of resignation mixed with something that might have been respect. "I can't stop you from talking to people. But—" he pointed his finger at Nana June, then at Sara Lee, "—if you learn anything, anything at all, that points to who actually killed Raymond, you come to me immediately. You don't confront anyone. You don't try to solve this yourselves. You come to me. Understood?"
"Understood," Nana June said graciously, standing as well. Sara Lee scrambled to her feet, relieved that they weren't being arrested or banned from investigating or that the sheriff was heading off to arrest Carl.
Gordon moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "And Ms. June? Sara Lee?" He looked back at them, his weathered face more open than Sara Lee had seen it. "Be careful. Whoever did this is dangerous. They stole medication, and they knew how to use it. That takes intelligence and makes people dangerous when they're cornered."
"We'll be careful," Nana June promised.
After Gordon left, Sara Lee sank back into a chair, feeling like she'd just run a marathon. Her grandmother remained standing, looking thoughtful.
"Well," Sara Lee said, her voice shaky with relief and residual adrenaline. "That went better than I expected."
"He’s a good man. He just needed to be reminded that we're on the same side. That we want the same thing… justice for Raymond, even if Raymond himself was far from just. And protection for those innocent ones caught up in his trap."
