Leann Sweeney - Dead Giveaway

"Morning, ma'am," Mr. Knight said before leaving to get the chair.

"Hey, Abby," Will said, his voice sleepy, his lids heavy with fatigue, though not heavy enough to mask his pale amber eyes. Bet the UT girls liked having this guy on campus.

"William Knight, is that how you address a young woman?" his mother said.

"I told him to call me Abby, so it's fine," I said quickly.

"Then it's 'Good morning, Abby.' Not 'hey.' " But she smiled a loving smile in her son's direction when he offered his sheepish "Yes, ma'am" reply.

Mr. Knight arrived with a maple dining chair and placed it facing the window and next to Will.

"Thanks," I said.

"My pleasure." Mr. Knight sat back down. I saw that his scrambled eggs and sausage were untouched, and the paper did indeed have a headline atop the metro section that blared WOMAN FOUND MURDERED BEHIND ESPRESSO BAR.

Mr. Knight tapped the paper. "Terrible thing. When he was in high school, Will and I used to catch college hoops on cable at a sports bar right near this place."

So that's why Verna Mae chose the Last Drop for our meeting. She'd probably been there watching for a glimpse of Will more than once, if I had her figured right.

"Abby," Mr. Wright went on, "do you know anything more than what the newspaper says? The policeman who called last night mentioned you were at the scene."

"I was. Verna Mae phoned me to meet her, but unfortunately I never found out what she wanted to talk about," I said.

Mrs. Knight moved a plate with eggs, toast and two sausage patties in front of me. "This is awful. That poor woman."

Her husband slid over so she could sit beside him.

Mrs. Knight said, "Will and several of his old high school friends were watching the NBA play-off game when the officer called. I have to say, I was a little upset when the sergeant asked if Will had been out during the early evening. He hadn't, of course. He'd been looking forward to this get-together with his friends all week." The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Knight squeezed her eyes shut. "It's those awful reporters. I know it."

"Let me handle this," Mr. Knight said.

Will's mother let her husband out. As he jogged from the kitchen, his small potbelly jiggling under his warmup jacket, she called, "Tell them to leave us alone."

"Mom, chill, okay?" Will said. "They're just doing their job."

"Tough living with a celebrity, huh?" I said.

"The reporters don't bother me all that much," Will said. "Since we didn't win the Big Dance, they've pretty much left me alone."

"Big Dance?" I said.

"The NCAA tournament," Will answered.

Mrs. Knight said, "Didn't win it this year. Will's heading for UT for basketball camp in a couple days. He'll do weight training and meet with a nutritionist, so he'll be a force to reckon with on the court. Then they'll go all the way next season."

"Mom, we're a team. It's not only about me," said Will.

Mr. Wright returned, but not with a reporter on his heels. It was Jeff.

My chair made an awful scraping sound when I pushed away from the table and stood.

"Uh, hi," I said.

Jeff looked me square in the eyes for what seemed like a long time but was probably no more than a second.

"I got an invite for breakfast," I said.

"I see." His expression told me he was sure they hadn't called me on a whim at this hour. He looked back and forth between Will's parents. "Just wanted to meet you folks face-to-face and apologize for upsetting you last night."

"You're Sergeant Kline? The one who phoned?" asked Mrs. Knight.

"Yes, ma'am." His tie was loosened, his sports jacket wrinkled, and he looked so damn tired I felt guilty for my four hours of sleep.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said. "You didn't murder that poor woman. God knows, I've been praying for her soul. If not for her, Will might never have come into our lives." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Mom," Will said. "I was supposed to end up with you no matter what."

She smiled sadly and nodded.

Jeff reached out a hand to Will. "Jeff Kline."

I noted that despite his exhaustion Jeff had enough energy for a huge smile and a vigorous handshake. Plus he'd introduced himself with his first name. Hmmm. I think the man is smitten.

"Fantastic last game in March despite the loss," Jeff said.

Oh, yes. This was a love story in the making.

"Thanks, but we've got an awesome point guard. 'Course you know that."

"You had thirty-four points, right?" Jeff went on. "And how many blocked shots?"

I cleared my throat. "Um, my breakfast is getting cold."

Mrs. Knight held out another loaded plate for Jeff, and Mr. Knight had snuck off for an additional chair.

We crowded around the table and ate and talked about basketball. It was sort of like the first day of my immersion Spanish class at the University of Houston, the one I dropped after a week. I didn't understand a word of what Jeff and the Knights were saying. I only knew they all spoke the language but me.

When we were through eating and Mrs. Knight refused my offer to help her clean up the dishes, Jeff addressed Will and his dad. "As you probably know, Ms. Rose identified Verna Mae Olsen's body last night. I assume she informed you that Mrs. Olsen left her property to you, Will."

"I did no such thing," I said. How I wanted to punch Jeff about now. I'd hoped to ease into that particular revelation.

Meanwhile, Mr. Knight's jaw had dropped, and I heard utensils crashing behind me in the kitchen.

Will said it all with his astonished, "What?"

Jeff looked genuinely surprised, and maybe even a tad embarrassed now that he realized I hadn't already spilled these particular beans. Beans. Yuck. I'd never before considered that expression might be a reference to coffee beans.

Mrs. Knight came rushing back to join us, wiping her reddened hands on a checkered dish towel. "That's why you're here? To recheck our son's alibi because you think he expected to inherit money from a stranger? Money he knew nothing about until this minute?"

"Ma'am, I have to contact or interview everyone who spoke with the victim recently," Jeff said. His throat was all blotchy above his collar. "A phone call isn't enough."

"Will would never harm anyone," a red-faced Mrs. Knight said.

Jeff had regrouped and returned to his calm cop mode. "I never said he did."

He had slipped up by not talking to me first, though. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but I suspected his mistake had more to do with Will the Sports Hero. Seems I had plenty to learn about this aspect of the man in my life.

Mrs. Wright said, "I think you should apologize to—"

"Annabelle," Mr. Knight cut in with an admirable take-charge tone. "You're jumping to conclusions. Let the officer talk."

Jeff nodded at Mr. Wright. "No problem, sir. I do apologize. Your son obviously was with you and his friends last night. We'll speak with the other young men present, but I'm sure they'll confirm what you've told me. My main purpose in coming was to ask a few questions about the meeting Miss Rose and Will had with the victim the other day."

"Oh. That makes sense," Mrs. Knight said. By her embarrassed expression, you'd have thought I'd just told her that her dress was tucked into her panty hose.

"I believe I told you all about our meeting with Mrs. Olsen, Sergeant Kline," I said, trying to sound as patient and composed as Jeff.

Will squinted and cocked his head. "I get the feeling you two know each—I mean, aside from what went down last night."

"How could you ever guess?" I said. "We know each other quite well, as a matter of fact."

"From other cases?" His eyes were bright with curiosity.

Smart, intuitive kid. No wonder I liked him so much.

"We're colleagues," Jeff said. He offered out his gum, and getting no takers, unwrapped a few sticks and folded them in his mouth. "Back to why I'm here. Did Mrs. Olsen contact you after you met with her the other day?"