by murder is fifty times better. Especially if the death was visited upon the female of the species and especially if she was young and pretty. You live in any city with a tabloid and you know that that’s what keeps them in business. You half suspect they go out and commit the grisly murders themselves just to stay in business.
I didn’t know who the deputy was but he seemed to recognize me. He waved me inside.
The small office was crowded. Longsworth, the young attorney, was there with his treasure chest of a briefcase. A minister clutching a Bible to his chest would have looked reverent if he hadn’t been smokinga cigar. And a nurse in white was saying to nobody in particular, “There just wasn’t anything we could do to help her. They didn’t find her until it was too late.”
But it was the two standing in the corner, next to the American flag, who interested me most. The widow Ella Coltrane and the wealthiest man in town, Nels Swarthout. He saw me first and glared in my direction. She followed his glare with her own. Grieves might have had a relationship with her but it was doubtful I would.
I wondered how they’d gotten the news so quickly, given that their fine big homes were on the outskirts of town. Even more I wondered why they would be there at all. What interest did they have in Molly Kincaid? They didn’t look like the kind of tabloid readers who showed up at every murder.
Terhurne burst from the people packing the inner doorway to the jail cell. When he saw me, his face took on a radiance that was almost religious. Few people had ever looked so happy to see me. Hell, my parents had never looked that happy to see me.
“Let’s us go get some coffee and have a smoke, Noah.”
I believe that was the first time he’d ever spoken my first name.
I wondered what the hell he wanted from me.
He gave me a little shove, which irritated the hell out of me. I turned around and gave him the same kind of glare that Ella and Swarthout had put on me.
“Sorry, I’m just in kind of a hurry.”
Hurry to get out of here, I thought. I remembered his discomfort around blood. How’d poor Molly been killed?
“If I don’t figure this thing out damned fast, there goes my reelection.”
Politicians are pretty much the same, whether they be sheriffs, governors, or presidents. They do best the things that are in their own self-interest. While he was worried about his career, I was thinking about the sad, oddly fragile girl named Molly.
“There’s one man in town here who’s jumping up and down this morning, I’ll tell you that. His name’s Rafferty.” He spoke around a lumpy mouthful of pancake and over-easy egg. He jabbed his fork at me from time to time for emphasis. “A little gal is supposedly sleeping in one of my cells and somebody gets in and kills her. I can hear that bastard up there on the stump now. ‘Right in his own cell while he was home sleeping off a—well, I won’t say it but we all know how the sheriff likes to support the liquor industry, don’t we?’ That was a joke from the last election.”
We sat in the Imperial, the same place where I first saw Swarthout and Ella, where the elite, as they say, meet to eat. It was now getting on to seven a.m. so the restaurant was starting to fill up quickly. From what I could hear of the talk around me, the only subject was Molly Kincaid being murdered in her cell.
“I hate to interrupt you, Terhurne, but maybe you could fill me in on what happened.”
He leaned forward and said, “I know you think I’m a callous bastard, Ford. But look at it this way. This town deserves the best lawman it can get.”
“And that could only be you.”
“You’re one sarcastic bastard, you know that?”
“Look, just tell me what happened.”
He knew they were looking at him. A lot of men whose attire and bearing told you that they were important in that little town were nodding in his direction.He was going to become, at best, a joke. And at
I didn’t know who the deputy was but he seemed to recognize me. He waved me inside.
The small office was crowded. Longsworth, the young attorney, was there with his treasure chest of a briefcase. A minister clutching a Bible to his chest would have looked reverent if he hadn’t been smokinga cigar. And a nurse in white was saying to nobody in particular, “There just wasn’t anything we could do to help her. They didn’t find her until it was too late.”
But it was the two standing in the corner, next to the American flag, who interested me most. The widow Ella Coltrane and the wealthiest man in town, Nels Swarthout. He saw me first and glared in my direction. She followed his glare with her own. Grieves might have had a relationship with her but it was doubtful I would.
I wondered how they’d gotten the news so quickly, given that their fine big homes were on the outskirts of town. Even more I wondered why they would be there at all. What interest did they have in Molly Kincaid? They didn’t look like the kind of tabloid readers who showed up at every murder.
Terhurne burst from the people packing the inner doorway to the jail cell. When he saw me, his face took on a radiance that was almost religious. Few people had ever looked so happy to see me. Hell, my parents had never looked that happy to see me.
“Let’s us go get some coffee and have a smoke, Noah.”
I believe that was the first time he’d ever spoken my first name.
I wondered what the hell he wanted from me.
He gave me a little shove, which irritated the hell out of me. I turned around and gave him the same kind of glare that Ella and Swarthout had put on me.
“Sorry, I’m just in kind of a hurry.”
Hurry to get out of here, I thought. I remembered his discomfort around blood. How’d poor Molly been killed?
“If I don’t figure this thing out damned fast, there goes my reelection.”
Politicians are pretty much the same, whether they be sheriffs, governors, or presidents. They do best the things that are in their own self-interest. While he was worried about his career, I was thinking about the sad, oddly fragile girl named Molly.
“There’s one man in town here who’s jumping up and down this morning, I’ll tell you that. His name’s Rafferty.” He spoke around a lumpy mouthful of pancake and over-easy egg. He jabbed his fork at me from time to time for emphasis. “A little gal is supposedly sleeping in one of my cells and somebody gets in and kills her. I can hear that bastard up there on the stump now. ‘Right in his own cell while he was home sleeping off a—well, I won’t say it but we all know how the sheriff likes to support the liquor industry, don’t we?’ That was a joke from the last election.”
We sat in the Imperial, the same place where I first saw Swarthout and Ella, where the elite, as they say, meet to eat. It was now getting on to seven a.m. so the restaurant was starting to fill up quickly. From what I could hear of the talk around me, the only subject was Molly Kincaid being murdered in her cell.
“I hate to interrupt you, Terhurne, but maybe you could fill me in on what happened.”
He leaned forward and said, “I know you think I’m a callous bastard, Ford. But look at it this way. This town deserves the best lawman it can get.”
“And that could only be you.”
“You’re one sarcastic bastard, you know that?”
“Look, just tell me what happened.”
He knew they were looking at him. A lot of men whose attire and bearing told you that they were important in that little town were nodding in his direction.He was going to become, at best, a joke. And at
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