48. Deb’s A Liar – In A Good Way

Kathy struggled into Brampton’s office with the two white banker’s boxes filled with photo albums. She expected him to rush to her aid, but as soon as she appeared he grabbed a large brown envelope from his desk and headed for the door.

“Just put them down on the side table, Kathy. We’re going to interrogation room B to talk to Deborah.”

Before Kathy could ask questions, he was gone. She glanced doubtfully at the small table then dropped the boxes on the floor and hurried after him.

In the interrogation room Deborah sat calmly at the table. The room was identical to the one they had spent the previous afternoon in with Madeline. Kathy sighed as she took her seat on the other side of the table but gave herself a shake and resolved to do her best to help Brampton.

“Thank you for coming in today Deborah I just have a few questions, I think we can clear up this whole situation and, hopefully, remove you from our suspect list,” he said.

“That would be wonderful,” said Deborah cheerily. “Because I didn’t kill her.”

Brampton placed the envelope in front of her, tapped it with a finger and asked a question that would change the case forever. “Who are the Hopkins Sisters, Deborah?”

She blinked rapidly, she looked surprised. “Those women who write a home decorating column?”

Brampton held her eyes and said, “I’ll repeat that. Who are the Hopkins Sisters? Not what do they do for a living.”

She didn’t respond, only stared back, then glanced over at Kathy, then looked down at her hands. “Well I don’t know who the Hopkins sisters are. I don’t think anybody knows, because they don’t go on talk shows or anything,” she turned to Kathy with a help me look.

Brampton picked up the envelope and slapped it down, making them jump.

“Yesterday, one of the Hopkins Sisters picked up an envelope from a post office box. The envelope was from the editor of the Dallas Lone Star newspaper that published their first column and today controls its syndication. The letter was asking them to write a column about paint colours for autumn and to think about one on Victorian chairs. The editor is a lousy speller, he had chairs spelled with two R’s.”

Deborah started as if she’d had an electric shock. She recovered her composure and shrugged. “What’s this got to do with me?”

“There may be a photograph in this envelope,” he picked it up and waved it at her. “If I open it we might see an image of a woman about your height opening that post office box and removing a letter addressed to the Hopkins Sisters. If that is the case this has a lot to do with you.”

Deborah put her head in her hands. “Oh shit, you know, don’t you,” she said.

“I know some of it,” said Brampton, not unkindly. “I’m interested in your side of the story.”

Kathy looked from one to the other, trying to keep up. “Are you one of the Hopkins sisters?” she asked. When Deborah didn’t answer, she said hesitantly, “Who’s the other one?”

Deborah raised her head, she was fighting tears and losing the battle.

“The other Hopkins sister is, I mean was, Shaye Alderson.”