The Murder Mystery Year: Chapter 8
Petula waited for the right moment and, as soon as the fat officer was distracted, slipped to the opposite corner of the room to stand beside her sister. “I need your help.”
Rose turned to stare at her, far too openly for Petula’s liking. “No kidding. You need my help?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because we’re knee-deep into it now? And the cops are here? And our terrible, horrible aunt is here? And our mother is here and can’t stop looking at us and crying for five seconds? And then there’s the Newells. The sweet, sweet Newell family and your long-lost son-“
“All right, all right,” Petula hissed. “I get it. Can you please keep your voice down? And maybe stop listing all of the ways this is seriously messed up? Listen to me,” she said. “That other cop, the lady, took Freddy out of here when no one was looking. They’ve been gone for a while.”
“So?” But the usual edge was gone from Rose’s voice and her eyes darted over the room.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Rose, when we walked in, it was Freddy standing over Da-,” Petula’s voice cracked, “Over the body.”
“I know,” Rose snapped. “I know what I saw.” There was a sudden noise behind them, a clamor of activity. They both turned to watch Lily Newell break away from her conversation with the fat cop. He raised a hand to quiet her but she seemed to have realized Freddy was gone too and soon her voice was pitched over the din of the room. “No. No! Where is he? Where’s Freddy? Do not- don’t tell me to calm down. He is a minor! If he is being questioned-“
“He’s right here, Mrs. Newell.” The lady cop had appeared with Freddy, pale and wide-eyed behind her. She looked at everyone in the room. “Freddy was very helpful. He wants to find out what happened here as much as I do. And I think I finally know how to get the truth out of you people.”
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