Murder in Mississippi - Part 2

Part 2

I decided to go to the kitchen.  No sense taking any more time than I needed.  As I entered the kitchen, she was already hard at work making some sandwiches.  It was a white, clean kitchen, with a table to my right with a beautiful view of the street behind it.  There was a lot of natural light, though storm clouds were brewing causing a lot of gray.

“Have a seat, dear.  You’ll be snacking in no time,” she said.

“Ma’am, you don’t have to do this,” I said.

“Oh nonsense, Detective,” she said, working on the food.  “I get to do this so rarely these days, what with my kids getting to that age… it’s refreshing to have someone to take care of.  See, all done!”  She came to the table and dropped a plate of sandwiches in front of me, giving me a colossal view of her cleavage.  “Help yourself, Detective…” she said.

I had to admit I was hungry, so I picked one of them up.  “Thank you so much, Ma’am.”  I took a bite.  Turkey with mayo, it was good.  “So, I just have a few questions for you and I promise I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Ask away,” she said in a chipper mood.

“Did you know of a man named Stephen Breyer?” I asked before taking another bite.

She paused, with her finger on her chin, as if trying to remember something.  “You know, nothing rings a bell.  Could you describe him for me?”

“Sure, he was around 5’10, taller than me, white, door to door salesman.  At the time he was selling vacuum cleaners.”

“Unfortunately, we get a lot of salesmen on this street.  I think they see the landscaping and assume money,” she giggled.  “But a vacuum salesman?  Can’t seem to remember anything like that…”

I heard the front door open and shut.  A voice came from the living room, making it’s way to the kitchen.  “It’s a stormy one out there,” came the voice of a man.  He entered the kitchen.  He was just a little bit taller than me, frail, and old.  He looked like years had been sucked out of him.  “Who is our guest here?”

“This is Detective Harvey Rutteger” the big woman said.  “Detective, this is my husband, Randall.”

I shook his hand.  As I did so, lightning struck, and rain poured down on the windows, pitter pattering on the roof.

“Oh dear…” she said.  “Detective, as a woman of class, I could never let you leave in weather like this.  You must stay here the night, until this storm clears up!”  She had her hands on her hips.