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“Hazel, we can talk here, or we can talk at the station. It’s up to you,” he said.
She turned and looked at us all. The scorn on her face was epic. I wondered what she’d have been like if she was really mad at someone, and I realized we might find out. “Unless you’re arresting me, I don?
?t have to go with you or answer your questions.”
“Do you know Bobby Marchand?” Newman asked.
Hazel narrowed her scorn onto him. I would not want to date someone who had that look and attitude in them. “Of course I do.”
“We’re trying to save his life.”
“I thought you were one of the supernatural marshals.”
“I am.”
“Then isn’t it your job to kill him?”
“I have a warrant for his execution.”
“Then why do you want to talk to me about anything? It’s a done deal. Bobby killed his uncle, and now you have to kill him so he doesn’t attack anyone else.”
“What if Bobby is innocent?”
“The whole town knows he did it.” Hazel rolled her eyes at Newman, as if to ask how stupid he could get. Again, it was that echo of a teenage girl, because no one does scorn as well as they do.
“If I kill him and find out later that he didn’t do it, then whoever had knowledge of the real murderer and didn’t speak up to save Bobby’s life could be charged with manslaughter or even third-degree murder.”
I wasn’t sure that was strictly true, but watching Hazel with hesitation in her eyes, I just sat there and kept my doubts off my face. Newman might have found a way through all that scorn and bad attitude.
“That’s not true.” But her eyes said plainly that she wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that.
“Sit down and talk to us, Hazel, and we won’t have to find out,” Livingston said.
She finally sat down on the edge of the seat near Kaitlin. She looked at all of us and then said, “You wanted to talk, so talk.” Most people chat and get themselves in trouble, but apparently, she was going to make us do the talking. I’d have bet money this wasn’t her first police rodeo.
“Carmichael said that he slept over at your place the night of the murder,” Newman said.
“Yeah, he did. Now, I have other customers waiting for their food.” She moved to the edge of the seat like she was going to stand up.
“Don’t he and the Chevets usually check with one another to make sure that someone is at the house just in case?”
“Yeah. The one time they don’t, and the shit hits the fan.” Hazel stood up.
“Why didn’t Carmichael coordinate with the Chevets?” Newman asked.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I thought you and he were serious about each other,” he said.
“We were. We are.” She said the last part fast, as if hoping we’d miss the grammar change.
Livingston asked, “Did you break up?”
“No,” Hazel said. She glanced behind her, and there were people at another booth trying to flag her down.
“You said you were serious, past tense,” I said.
“I said we are serious. Now, I have people waiting for their food and their tickets. My tips are getting smaller every minute.”
