Nobody said anything for a long beat, as it sank in with all of us that this wasn't exactly true anymore. At least not today.
"So, you're saying that somebody killed the vic—Mr. Peterson, and then took time to splatter blood on the suspect's clothes and put the alleged murder weapon in his truck?" Deputy Underhill sneered at all of us and shook her head. "Wishful thinking, much?"
"He's notthe suspect, he's Rooster Jenkins," I snapped. "And I've known him all my life, so back off."
Andy shook his head at me, but then gave the temp deputy a hard look. "Deputy, I'd advise you to watch your tone until you know what's going on. Also, think about what you're saying for a minute. Because the flip side is that Rooster killed Darryl for whatever reason I can't imagine, then took time to dump the bloody murder weapon in the back of his own truck where anybody could see it, and then changed out of his bloody clothes and stashed them in the back seat in plain view to anyone who glanced in the window. That would make Rooster the dumbest criminal we've ever seen in Dead End, and that's counting the bank robber who handed the teller his name and address during the robbery."
Rooster wrapped his arms around himself and hunched over, a mountain of misery. "I'm so sorry, Andy, but I don't have any idea how that stuff ended up in my truck. I drove downtown wearing my Santa suit and then wandered over to see what the ruckus was when the crowd started up. That's when I saw Tess and found out about Darryl."
"It's true! He was coming from the opposite direction of the store when I saw him! In his Santa suit," I confirmed.
"I didn't like Darryl much, but I didn't kill him," Rooster told Andy.
Andy, who was still in his Sunday clothes—he took his mama to church every week—ran his hands through his bright-red hair, which was already standing up in spikes. When he said nothing for a beat, though, Jack spoke up.
"The problem is that Rooster could have been coming back from changing into his Santa suit, like Deputy Underhill said. Andy has to look at the facts on hand, Tess."
Underhill—Lizzie—shot a smug look my way.
I was beginning to dislike that woman.
"Jack's right," Andy finally said, sighing. "We need to figure this out. For now, Rooster, I'm going to hold you for a while, just based on the evidence. I don't want to charge you formally, if you'll agree to stay here until we find the actual killer."
Deputy Underhill looked outraged, no doubt at the breach in what she considered proper procedure, but Rooster and I both blew out sighs of relief.
"Sure. You know I'll hang out here until you find the real murderer, Andy. Want me to go back into a cell? I can get a nap, I guess. I was up all night. And will you give Emeril and Harold my condolences?" Rooster's shoulders drooped. "I won't be able to take food over until I get out of here, but Tess, maybe you could take something from me?"
"I will, I promise," I told him. "Later today or tomorrow, after the flood of church ladies have been through."
Andy nodded at Deputy Underhill, and she escorted Rooster back to the cell.
"You don't have to lock it," Andy called out, and her snort was loud enough that it echoed off the walls.
Andy shrugged. "I will not lock him up on this obviously planted evidence. What if he needs the bathroom?"
"That's a good call," Jack said quietly. "You're doing a good job, Andy. Don't second-guess yourself."
Andy glanced up at Jack, and I could read the surprise and gratitude in his eyes. "Yeah, I was doing just that. I wish Susan hadn't gone out of town."
"You can do this," I said. "You already know that Rooster didn't kill Darryl, and that's a big step."
"You're the man," Jack said. "And I'll help in any way you need."
"And you're exactly right about planted evidence," I said. "If Rooster did this, why would he leave the hammer and clothes in his truck? He could have driven out and tossed it all in the swamp, and nobody ever would have found it."
"I'm both impressed and appalled that your mind goes straight to getting rid of evidence," Jack said.
"It has been a very long year."
Deputy Underhill walked back out from the hall, and Andy squared his shoulders. "We should get back to the crime scene. The coroner and CSI from Orlando are there, and I need to talk to them. Jack, do you have some time to come with me? Maybe see what you can smell?"
Underhill shot Jack a suspicious look. "Smell?"
Jack rolled his eyes and answered Andy. "I'm not a wolf, as I keep telling you people."
"Still," Andy said. "A tiger has a better sense of smell than I do."
At the wordtiger, Deputy Underhill took a large step back. This time,Irolled my eyes.
