The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins Page B

me be!”
    He saw the tears spring suddenly to her eyes but held himself away from her. “I got to get back an’ finish packin’ or we goin’ to miss the bus to New York.”
    She nodded, regaining her self-control. “I’ll walk back with you.”
    They didn’t see the policemen until they crested the dune. The two uniformed men stopped in front of them. The bigger man looked at Fred. “You Fred Lafayette?”
    Fred glanced at JeriLee before he spoke. “Yes.”
    The policeman took a paper from his pocket. “I have a warrant here for your arrest.”
    Fred took the warrant without looking at it. “What’s it for?”
    “Assault and battery with a deadly weapon against the person of one Joseph Herron on the night of July tenth. Will you come quietly or do we have to put the cuffs on you?”
    “I won’t make any trouble,” Fred said.
    “Good boy.” For the first time the policeman relaxed. “Let’s go.”
    JeriLee found her voice. “Where are you taking him?”
    “County jail at Jefferson.”
    “I know Chief Roberts,” she said. “Can I talk to him?”
    “You can talk to anyone you like, lady, but he’s got nothin’ to do with this case. We’re out of the country sheriff’s department.”
    “Don’t worry, Fred. I’ll talk to my father. He’ll get this straightened out.”
    “You keep out of it, JeriLee, I’ll make out okay.”
    “How can I keep out of it?” she asked. “I’m already in it.”

Chapter 14
    Judge Winstead looked at the large old-fashioned gold pocket watch his father had given him fifty years ago when he had come into the law office. “It’s twelve forty-five,” he announced, snapping the case shut and returning the watch to his pocket. “First time since the war that Carson’s been late.”
    Arthur Daley nodded. “Must be something important to hold him up.”
    The monthly luncheon had become more than a ritual. On the third Friday of each month the three men would meet and review the concerns of the town. Together they formed the core of power that moved Port Clare. Nothing could be accomplished without their stamp of approval, and though none of them had ever been elected to office it was understood by everyone, even the politicians, that the only way to get things in Port Clare was through them.
    “Another drink?” the judge asked.
    “No, thanks. I’m due out at the construction site at two. I want to have a clear head.”
    “I’ll have one.” The judge signaled the waiter. “How’s it going?”
    “Okay. I should have the first ten houses ready by September.”
    “That’s not bad.”
    “Still haven’t got county approval on the waterlines and sewers yet though.”
    “Township approval okay?”
    Daley nodded.
    “No problem then,” the judge said. “I’ll have the state D.W.P. get on it.”
    “That will be a help.”
    “V.H.F. mortgages?” the judge asked.
    “I don’t know yet. I wanted to talk to Carson about it. Thirty thousand is a high price for V.H.F. If I price the houses cheaper we won’t get the kind of people we want in there.”
    “We can’t have that. We have a responsibility to the community not to lower the standards.”
    “Yeah,” Daley said dryly. They understood that one of the most effective ways of keeping out undesirables was to price them out of the market.
    The judge looked up. “Here he comes now.”
    Carson was walking quickly toward them. His face was red and flushed. He dropped into his chair without apologies. “I need a drink,” he said.
    Wisely the others said nothing until after he had taken a good swallow of his scotch. He put his glass squarely on the table. “We’ve got trouble,” he announced.
    He didn’t wait for them to ask questions. “Your wife started the damned thing, Daley,” he said angrily. “Why didn’t you check with me before you let her go off half cocked?”
    Daley was genuinely bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “That thing that happened out at the Thornton