Death and Honesty by Cynthia Riggs

trafficking?”
    “Howland Atherton is responsible for his being here.”
    “Thank Mr. Atherton for me, will you?” Darcy patted his stomach and looked at his watch. “Two hours to dinner. By the way, don’t, under any circumstances, tell Atherton about the call I asked you to make.”
    Victoria buttoned her coat again. “Call me if you need anything else. Darcy,” she added with a wicked smile.
    He looked down and with his finger traced a section of the graffiti that covered the tabletop. “You know that poem of Robert Frost’s that begins, ‘She is as in a field a silken tent …’?” He looked up, and she nodded. “Well, you’re my silken tent, Mrs. Trumbull. Thank you.”
    Victoria took off her baseball cap and turned away so he couldn’t see her eyes.

CHAPTER 14
    Each time Oliver came downstairs from his office, Mrs. Danvers lowered her glasses and glared at him, then looked significantly at the clock between the windows. He’d tried to ignore her, but each time he felt his face flush.
    He scheduled his forays to avoid the Alley’s porch sitters, who’d be there shortly after noon, waiting for the mail to be sorted, then reconvene after work to gossip. Oliver was sure they’d seen the way the three assessors had humiliated him. Those porch bums didn’t miss much.
    He returned to his desk and removed the disk from his computer that he’d dumped all but his last few files onto, gathered up some papers he hoped would look important, and went downstairs in as businesslike a manner as he could muster, holding his hand against his stomach, which had begun to ache. He’d have to go home and lie down for a few minutes before he finished dealing with his computer files.
    “Leaving early?” Mrs. Danvers said. “I don’t know why you bothered.”
    “Have to run some errands. I’ll be back.” Oliver lifted the papers he was carrying so she’d notice.
    When he got outside, the rain had started. He dashed for his car, sheltering his head with his papers, slammed the door shut, locked it, and drove slowly past the Meadows house. The window was closed now. He could see a light on in the kitchen. But her car wasn’t in its usual place in the driveway. Who’d been in her house?
    He shuddered when he thought about that grilling by those three women. He didn’t intend to go through that ever again. Treating him like a criminal.
    How could he deal with this, apologize? If so, to whom? Say
he’d made a dreadful mistake. He was new at the job, after all. He’d promise to correct the bills he’d sent out. Did he dare add that in correcting his terrible mistake, he’d discovered that someone in the assessors’ office had been skimming off tax money for years? He might come out on top, after all. He smiled at the thought.
    His stomach growled. He’d had no appetite for breakfast. The only food he’d eaten since last night was the peanut butter cheese crackers washed down with Diet Coke and a couple of pieces of Turkish delight someone had left on his desk. The box had been there for a couple of days, but he’d assumed it belonged to someone else and hadn’t opened it. Now that he thought of it, why would anyone leave candy on his desk? He didn’t care much for sweets, but he’d eaten several pieces without thinking. When he got home, he’d have to put something in his stomach. Chicken soup might settle him.
    The rain was heavy now, driven slantwise by the northeast wind. Too much rain this month. He drove slowly past Brandy Brow, where the road was already flooded, past the mill pond and the mill, and turned left onto Old County Road. He’d be home soon, get a bite to eat. Maybe take a quick nap until it was almost time for Mrs. Danvers to leave, then return to Town Hall with a couple of new computer disks. Those last few files were the most important ones, and he wanted to look at them before he downloaded them onto one of his disks or deleted them.
     
    The blue dump truck was waiting in front of