Read Joe Dillard - 01 - An Innocent Client for Free Online Page A

bit.
    At that moment, Landers knew she realized she’d fallen face-first in a pile of shit. It didn’t surprise Landers. Any woman who dressed like that had to be a dumbass.
    ”I thought you said the man was killed,” she said.
    ”I did, but I didn’t say he was murdered. I didn’t say anything about how he was killed. He might have been run over by a train or gotten killed in a car wreck. He could have jumped off a building or blown his brains out. What makes you think he was murdered?”
    ”I don’t claim to know a whole lot, honey, but I didn’t think the TBI got involved with car wrecks. I thought they only sent you boys in for the bad stuff.”
    Nice try. She knew something, and now that she’d fucked up, she was trying to backpedal. Landers decided to try to get her out of her element and into his, get her to a place where she’d be less comfortable.
    ”Ms. Barlowe, let’s you and I go down to my office where we can sit down, have a cup of coffee, and talk. You can give me a list of your employees and the names of as many customers from last night as you can remember, and I’ll have you back here in a couple of hours.”
    The smile vanished.
    ”Honey, did I mention to you that my late husband, God rest his soul, used to be the sheriff of McNairy County? I was his personal secretary for almost a year before he resigned, and then we got married about a year after that. It was a long time ago, but I remember a few things about the law.
    Now, I don’t mean to be rude to you, sugar, but one of the things I remember is that unless you have some kind of warrant or unless you arrest me, I don’t believe I even have to talk to you. I’ve tried to be nice up to this point, but you’ve made it clear that you think I’ve done something wrong. So you know what? I think I’m just going to go on inside and get to work now, okay? You have yourself a wonderful day.”
    She turned around and sashayed off. It was the only word to describe the way her hips swayed as she headed into the Mouse’s Tail on her spike heels.
    Landers stood there watching her for a minute, then turned and got back into his car.
    Most people cringe when they talk to TBI agents, and damned near all of them cooperate unless they have something to hide. This woman had something to hide. Landers decided to stick a flashlight up her skirt until he found out what it was.

    April 12
    12:10 p.m.
    I went up to see my mother after Johnny Wayne was carted off. It was lunchtime, and walking down the hall in the long-term-care wing at the nursing home was like running a wheelchair gauntlet. I knocked gently on the door and walked in. She was awake.
    It seemed she was always awake. The doctors told me that Alzheimer’s, as it progresses, interferes with sleep patterns. She was sitting up in bed, watching SportsCenter . Baseball season had started, which meant her beloved Atlanta Braves were back on the field.
    ”Hi, Ma. How’re you feeling today?”
    ”Like I’ve been hit by a train.”
    ”Good. At least you’re with us.”
    The disease was steadily running its course. One day I’d walk in and she’d say, ”Hi, Joe,” and we’d talk for a little while, and the next day she wouldn’t even know my name. It was painful to watch. She was only sixty years old, and she’d always been strong and vital. But her skin had lost its elasticity and was the color of bleached bone. Her weight had dropped to ninety pounds, and she seemed to have shrunk by at least two inches. Her cheeks were hollow, her hazel eyes dull, and her hair gray and stringy. Her teeth were in a jar on the bedside table.
    As I sat down in the chair next to her bed, I knew it wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t be able to talk at all.
    Ma was born in 1947 in a small town called Erwin, Tennessee, which sits nestled in the Appalachians not far from the North Carolina border and is surrounded by the Cherokee National Forest. She fell in love with a football star from nearby Johnson