"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Fred said as Betty pushed upright, a little too far, and waved a greeting. Fred looked to Dean. "I gotta talk to you."
"Talk," Dean answered, "And talk quickly, will you? You know, your timing..."
"I just looked at that phone number you called-Brunel's number-when I was putting it in my notes."
"So?"
"It ain't long distance. It's the same area code as here! Fletcher Brunel is in Colorado."
Fred, with a love for the dramatic, began exiting the tent on that pronouncement.
"Wait a minute!" Dean called. "Let's think this thing through."
"It's simple. Jeffrey Byrne is dead and Brunel killed him."
Betty bounced upright making no move to cover herself. "Oh, my God! Oh, shit! I'm sorry as hell!" She wrapped an arm around Dean in comfort. "I sorry!"
"It's all right, really!" He tried to move away but she continued to console him, deep mother instincts from a hundred generations of genes.
"I know how you feel. My grandmother died and I cried for days..."
"Look," he said, trying to extricate himself. "I never even met the guy..."
"But somebody killed him! That's terrible!" Betty began to cry and held Dean all the closer.
"Damn," Dean muttered as he looked up at Fred. "We're jumping to conclusions. Just because he's in Colorado doesn't mean he knows anything about this business. We knew he was moving out west." Betty looked from one to the other.
"Brunel had a connection with Scranton and he skipped out of Norfolk without even filing his expense account. He knocked off Byrne and took the loot."
Betty looked as if a night with Hal-the-creep might have been a better choice.
Dean sighed, putting his hands to his head. "I don't know what I'm doing." He looked at Fred. "None of this answers who in hell is 888?"
Betty looked up, mouth agape. "Are you guys spies or something?"
"No, darling," Fred said calmly, "It's just a bit of a mix-up."
Dean plopped back down, trying to think. "Colorado is a big state. He could be 500 miles away. It doesn't change anything."
Betty still looked completely bewildered. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked in a meek, questioning voice. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry it sounds so confusing." Dean put an arm around her bare shoulder, giving her a hug. "We all need a good night's sleep. We're not thinking clearly and there are too damn many unanswered questions."
"Yeah," grumbled Fred. "My mind is in high gear too." To Betty, he added, "Good night, Miss Boise. Sorry to have disturbed you," and he was gone.