50. Off The Record

In the corridor, Kathy filled a paper cup at the water fountain while Brampton hit buttons on the vending machine. They peeked through the glass panel on the door and saw Deborah, not so cocky now, staring at the table, looking somehow smaller than when the interview started.

“There’s no way she murdered her,” Kathy said. “That column was successful because the two of them worked so well together. Where’s the benefit to her? What do you think?”

“I agree,” he said through a mouthful of chips. “Cross her off the list. We’ll go back in there and let her know none of this needs to come out.”

Deborah sat up straight as they entered. When they were seated, she leaned across the table with pleading eyes. “So, is that it? Can I go home now? Are you going to expose the Hopkins Sister? It will change things for me at work. A lot of people don’t like me and they’re going to hold it against me. I might even get fired.”

Brampton popped open the second bag of chips for her. “Only three people know your secret and they’re all in this room. We can keep it that way.”

He turned to speak directly into the recording device. “Computer.” A light came on. “Detective Sergeant Sandy Brampton forgot to notify the interviewee this conversation was being recorded. We cannot use Conversation 117488. Please delete it from the system and from the backup system, then turn off the recording.”

He paused, his finger on his lips so no one would say anything. “Recording of Detective Sergeant Brampton, Conversation 117488 has been deleted from the system and the backup system. Goodbye,” the computer stated and the light went off.

“What about that photograph?” Deborah asked.

Brampton grinned and waved the envelope. “Ain’t no photograph.”

Deb looked confused. “So how the hell did you find out about this?”

“I asked the lawyer for Shaye’s estate to call if he came across anything odd in the will. He found a photograph, a Smith Corona typewriter, a set of golf clubs and other knickknacks left to the Hopkins Sisters that would be picked up within the year by a courier. A note from Shaye would confirm the courier was authentic. Apparently you used the old Smith Corona to write the columns? Part of the Hopkins mystique?”

“That was Shaye’s idea,” she smiled. “Her grandmother wrote cookbooks and she had a lot of the original recipes done on a janky old typewriter. She loved them and knew it would add to the mystery if we sent original manuscripts done on an old typewriter as well as digital copies.”

Brampton was looking very pleased with himself. “I contacted the publisher who said he would send a letter. We kept a watch on the post office box until it was picked up yesterday. Turns out we didn’t need to take a picture. My guy recognized you.”

He sat up straight and said formally, “Deborah Citlali, we can officially say you are no longer a suspect in the murder of Shaye Alderson.”

Deborah straightened, too. “That’s it? I’m in the clear? I can go?”

Brampton nodded seriously. Kathy beamed. Deborah stared at them both.

“Well thank you very much, it’s been a gas. Kathy you played your part very well. I thought you were genuinely interested in knife fighting, you really worked hard at it.”

Kathy looked sheepish. “At first it was just part of the investigation, but I started to get a real rush from it. I learned a lot from you, Deb, not just about the moves. I’m going to keep working out, too, maybe we can work out together?”

Deborah smiled. “Why not? We’ll have fun.” She stood up and looked questioningly at Brampton who stood, too, and gestured to the door. She did a sudden kick towards him that made him flinch back. She laughed, then held out her hand to him.

“Mr. Brampton, detective, thank you for keeping our secret. But you’ve gotta find out who killed her. I hope you’ve got somebody else in mind now I’m in the clear. I loved her, you know. She was a great friend. It was just a charade at work, me the mean bitch and her the nice girl, it kept people guessing. Nobody suspected we had something going together.” She sighed. “I’ll keep it going as long as I can. I know her style, I can play two roles, and I know she’d want me to, for the charities if nothing else.”

She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table.

“Get the bastard, Mr. Brampton, get him,” she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, “or get her.” She turned to the door. “I can go?” He nodded. With her hand on the doorknob she turned back. “When you get them you’d better take good care of them until they’re tried, convicted and put away, because if I have my way they won’t get that far.”

Kathy started to say something, but Deb cut her off. “I know, uttering threats. Silly me.” She yanked open the door. “Bite me.”