Even if it meant helping Roxy. Neither of us spoke for an hour and twenty minutes. I normally would have turned on the radio and listened to the midday livestock reports, but I didn’t want to diminish whatever discomfort Roxy might experience in the silence. I pulled into Hodgekiss. “Okay, Sherlock,” I said. “Got any good ideas?” She flipped one spiral curl with her index finger. “Yes. How about you?” I didn’t want to collaborate but I had to. “Nope. Who do you think did it?” “Oh, come on. Make a guess.” Gah! She was itching for a knuckle sandwich. “Don’t make me kill you.” She stuck out her lower lip. “Spoil sport. I think it was Dwayne and Kasey Weber.” They hadn’t been happy about the discussion at the debate and had zipped away at the first chance. That didn’t mean they were murderers, but it was as good a place as any to start. “Why do you think they did it?” I asked. My guess is that Roxy harbored jealousy of Kasey Weber. They were both leggy, some might say pretty, women who took pride in their sex appeal.
