If Catfish Had Nine Lives(12)

            The area that contained the jail—the holding cells and office space for the police officers—wasn’t big, and it was currently so crowded that it wasn’t easy to spot anyone specific. I looked for Gram, for the two women—Esther and Vivienne—for Teddy, for Jake, and then for Cliff again. In due time, Jim called me over, but we didn’t talk for long when he found out I’d been fishing at the time of the murder. As Jim questioned me, my attention went to someone sitting inside one of the holding cells. The doors to the two cells were open, and a few people had gathered in each space; some were sitting on the cots, and some were just standing.

            I’d gotten to know Cody, aka the bad guy from the skit, as well as I’d gotten to know Norman. I’d made friendly acquaintance with them both, just easy small talk as I observed a few rehearsals and offered my little bit of input.

            Cody sat on one end of the cot in the closest cell. He was slumped, as he was also leaning back against the wall. His face was pale and drawn and he seemed to not be in the moment.

            “Jim, have you talked to Cody yet?” I pointed.

            “Oh, yeah, poor guy. He’s pretty shook up.”

            “But there’s no evidence that he killed Norman, right?”

            “Not at all. All indications are that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

            “He doesn’t look well. Has he seen Dr. Callahan?”

            “No, but you’re right, he doesn’t look well. I’ll have an officer take him over to the doc.”

            “You’re short-staffed as it is. I’ll take him,” I offered.

            Jim looked around at the crowd and grimaced a moment. “All right. That would help, Betts. I appreciate it. We are certain we’ve secured the area around downtown, but stay alert.”

            I threaded my way through the crowd and into the holding cell. I lightly touched Cody’s shoulder. He blinked and jumped before his eyes focused on me.

            “Hi,” he said uncertainly.

            “I’m Betts,” I said.

            “I know.”

            “Come with me, Cody.”

            He didn’t question my request, but lifted himself off the cot as I held on to his elbow and led him out of the jail.

            “Phew,” he exclaimed when we were outside. “That place was hot and crowded.”

            Though he sounded relieved, he didn’t look much better.

            “You look a little pale,” I said.

            “Yeah, I needed to get out of there. When can I just go home?”

            “Soon,” I said. “But for now, let’s get some air.”

            I’d changed my mind. Cody didn’t need a doctor; he just needed some elbow room.

            “Sounds good to me.” He looked up and down the boardwalk as if he wasn’t sure which way to go.

            “This way,” I said as I turned toward the Jasper Theater.

            Cody was still in costume. He wore jeans and a black Western shirt. Our normal summer costumes didn’t usually include jeans, but Jake had kept to a budget by asking the male cast members to bring their own denim. Cody was young, maybe barely twenty, which had originally given me doubts about his ability to play a husband whose wife had cheated on him, but he proved to be one of the best actors at the convention—one of the best I’d ever seen in Broken Rope, actually. His dark eyes belonged on someone much older and, frankly, much wiser. When he wasn’t reciting lines, the word I thought best described him was goofy.