Chapter 6
The higher functions of my brain kind of stopped at the word "murder." But the other bits were still running well enough to invite the policeman inside to talk and offer him some coffee.
The minute we were inside, my grandmother saw that I was ambling around like a head-injured zombie and brought me over to a chair at the bar. She poured coffee for me, the officer, and myself, and I took a sip before finally getting a sensible word out.
Just one. "Murder?" I said.
"What murder?" my grandmother asked.
"Hey," the officer held up his hands in mock surrender then took off his hat and glasses. He was instantly more human, just a young guy in a uniform, not a half-robot enforcer of justice or anything. "Let's start at the beginning. I'm Officer Foster from the county sheriff's off
