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‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ but he said it was because he cain’t get it out of his head. He was doing all the voices in it, high and low.”
    Janie considered that. Her cute little face screwed up in concentration. Brownie thought about it. Foot Johnson was the janitor of the county buildings. Other than having the description of a bodily part for his first name, he seemed fairly benign.
    Brownie straightway added Foot Johnson to his suspect list. Fairly benign is how they talk about serial killers, he thought. “When I lived next door to him, he was a right nice fella. Took out his garbage once a week, and I dint smell nothing dead no how.” Jack the Ripper. Benign. Vlad the Impaler. Benign. George W. Bush. Really benign.
    “Ruby Mercer mentioned to Poppiann that Bill Clinton is acting up lately,” Tee said.
    “Ruby Mercer is…?” Janie prompted.
    “Just a lady who lives in town. She lives with her sister, that’s Alice, by the way. Them gals are retired and don’t do much ‘cepting meet with the Pegramville Women’s Club on Thursday nights. So does Poppiann when I’m free to sit with Junior.” Tee glanced down at the photos in his hand. He put them away with a smile. “Not that I mind sitting with Junior. Boy’s already walking. He’s gonna be an athlete, I swear.”
    “Bill Clinton,” Jane prompted. “Acting up?”
    “Oh, Bill Clinton is Ruby and Alice’s dog. They love that dog like the earth loves the rain. Take him to be groomed once a month. Paint his claws different colors, and he’s a boy dog. Must hurt his feelings something fierce.”
    “Did the Mercer sisters say why Bill Clinton was acting up?” Janie asked, and Brownie could almost see the police uniform on her.
    “No. I don’t reckon they knew. Fella’s just acting all riled up and all. Ruby done said that dog was smiling like a goat in a briar patch.”
    Janie stared at Tee. “A goat in a briar patch? Is that good or bad?”
    “Good. I think,” Brownie interjected, feeling somewhat left out in the detecting aspect.
    “But then those gals once left out a jar of salsa and Bill Clinton ate the whole thing and the poor dog had the backdoor trots for days. Think Alice ended up taking Bill Clinton to Doc Goodjoint on account that the vet was down to Houston for a training. And that’s a damn shame because Doc Goodjoint is a Republican.” Tee trailed off as if he realized he was speaking to elementary school-aged children. “And you’re here to see the jail.” He rattled his keys.
    As Tee walked away, he said, “Follow me.”
    “Cover me,” Brownie muttered to Janie.
    Janie said, “What?”
    “Cover me,” he said again. “We’ve got to talk to the sheriff about the spatula. Or your auntie. Or some other po-liceman who will know who might be the culprit.”
    “Hmm,” Janie murmured. “I’ll go. I can speak police talk. They’ll listen to me. They’ll look at your fedora and giggle.”
    Brownie touched the brim of the hat. “What? It looks just like Sam Spade’s in that movie I watched last night. And partners support each other. You back me up.”
    “If we’re partners either one of us should go,” Janie said. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
    Brownie nodded and glanced at Tee. Tee was rattling keys vigorously and saying, “This here is the main entrance, but we got a rear entrance, too. Just in case we need to get out quick-like. Once there was a time where Newt Durley stopped up the sh-I mean, potty, and we all had to get out the back in a rapid course of time. That poor cell hasn’t been the same since.”
    Brownie and Janie both made fists and thumped them into the palms of their other hands. “One, two, three, shoot,” he said in time with the thumping.
    Janie stared at his hand as it stopped in its final shape. “What’s that?”
    “A laser gun,” Brownie clarified. “It beats everything. Especially your rock.”
    Janie glared at him. “You like to make up rules, don’t you?”
    “Of course,”