An empty desk faced the cell with a mix of files and photos scattered across the surface. Three video cameras were positioned at various angles. The deputy pulled a folding metal chair to the second cell, where Honey sat on a cot, ankles crossed, facing the wall. Her neon-pink scrubs lit up the room like Christmas lights in March.
“Thank you.” As soon as the deputy left, with the promise that he’d be right on the other side of the door, Cordelia pulled back the chair and took a seat.
“Why are you here?” Honey still hadn’t turned around, choosing to speak to the brick wall. “If you came to gloat, you can just turn yourself around and leave.”
“I don’t see anything to gloat about.” Cordelia folded her hands in her lap. “I’m just trying to understand how you ended up here.”
Honey finally faced her. Her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks gave away just how hard she’d been crying on the ride over. “Betty Jean. She told Dr. Lin that the pastor and I had an argument the day he passed, and she’s swearing she personally saw me give him arsenic straight from my own purse.”
Of all the things she’d been expecting Honey to say, thatnever entered her mind. She knew Honey was probably a few pickles short of a barrel, but she had no idea her territorial ways took such extremes. “Is that true?”
“Of course not. Why would you ask me such a thing?” she screeched. Glancing at the camera, then back at Cordelia, she lowered her voice. “I’m a nurse. I took an oath to heal.”
“Why were you fighting?” The more Cordelia learned about the pastor, the less she thought of him, but she still couldn’t see him getting into a public squabble with a woman who fancied him in an unrequited way.
“He had pneumonia a few months back, that’s no secret, and when he came in for his wellness check, I might’ve said some unkind things about Daisy knowing it was Friday and he’d likely be on his way to see her after his appointment. Betty Jean must’ve been watching from the hall like a sneak, but having words don’t make me a killer.”
“What about Betty Jean’s claim that she saw you giving pills to the pastor?” Cordelia clicked her tongue. “I think you’re leaving out a few details.”
“I gave him Tylenol.” Honey’s flat, unaffected expression reminded her strongly of Arline. “If I’d given him the pills from the hospital’s supply, it would’ve cost a hundred and fifty dollars. I was trying to do right by him since we were close.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Honey had been about as close to the pastor as Texas was to Australia, but Cordelia didn’t think it would be prudent to point that out right then.
And while Cordelia should’ve been relieved to get a break from the town’s scrutiny and the sheriff’s suspicions, Honey’s story checked out. It sounded suspicious as all get-out, and it likely wouldn’t hold up in court. Cordelia also knew full well that Honey didn’t kill the pastor. Whoever put the palytoxin in his wine did, and her conscience wouldn’t let Honey take the fall.
“I don’t know how they intend to make these charges stick. I know how the law works. Their case is flimsy at best,” Honey said, and attempted to throw Cordelia a smug look, an effect that lost its luster on account of her wobbling bottom lip.
“I suppose that’s between you and the judge.” Cordelia took in her electric-pink scrubs, smeared lipstick, and lopsided hair. Honey wouldn’t last a day in prison. “Why would you fight with him over Daisy though? They weren’t in a relationship. He was a married man.”
“I would’ve done everything she’d done for him for free.” She stuck out her bottom lip. A petulant toddler who’d never learned the meaning of the word “no.”
“Maybe he liked the fact that his arrangement with Daisy was strictly business.”
Honey had nothing to say to that. The toilet in the empty cell gurgled and emitted an inhuman belch that left a powerful stink in the air. Cordelia discreetly covered her nose with the collar of her shirt. Honey eyed the unruly toilet like she was wondering how much worse it would get before she’d be let out. It was a cruel situation for anyone to be in.
Though Cordelia’s empathy for Honey could only go so far—she was meaner than a rattlesnake on a bed of coals, and she had no business getting into the pastor’s personal business when he was just there for a wellness check—she didn’t kill the pastor. It would always come back to that. Someone else had put the palytoxin in his wine.
“I know you’re sitting there judging me.” Honey picked at her chipped nail polish. “And I’m just wondering where you get the gall, considering your reputation is trash.”
A month ago, hearing someone speak so callously about her reputation would’ve sent Cordelia into a fit of damage control. Before the chicks swooped into her life being every bit themselves without apology and living life on their terms. They got respect because they didn’t need it or want it from anyone but themselves. And the more time Cordelia spent in their company, the less she felt that pressing, constant need for approval.
“I’m not judging, I’m just thinking,” Cordelia said. “Did you happen to see the pastor with a bottle of wine that day?”
“You’re kidding, right? It was a wellness check. Not even the alcoholics bring liquor to the doctor’s office with them.” Honey gave her a pointed look.
Cordelia ignored the clear jab at her momma. “I’m not saying he brought the bottle in with him, but did he mention getting a gift, or had anyone given it to him at the hospital?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I’m not interested in seeing you hang for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“I knew it.” Honey jumped to her feet. “You know something.”
Cordelia sighed, eight shades over these tiresome games. “I know as much as you.”
“No, you don’t. You’re asking funny questions about wine, and you’re certain I didn’t kill him even though you don’t like me and have no reason to believe otherwise. Why?” She wrapped her hands around the bars, tightening her hold like she would’ve rattled them if they hadn’t been bolted into the ground. “What do you know?”
Cordelia stood, realizing her mistake a bit too late to take it back. “I’ve got to go.”
