she flicked an ash into the ashtray she was holding on her knee.
“I could hear Arthur screaming the minute I pulled up to the house. Norma wouldn’t let him whimper without picking him up, so I knew something was wrong. I ran into the house. Arthur was still in his bassinet, where he’d been when I’d left. He was wet and hungry, but otherwise okay.
“Norma…” She choked up and had to force the words out. “She was facedown on her bed. She wasn’t moving. There was blood. I would have thought she was dead, except that she was making sounds like…like…I don’t know…a wounded animal.”
She took another drag off her cigarette. “I’m not sure she knew it was me who was handling her. She flailed her arms, trying to fight me off. I liked to have never gotten her into the car.”
“No sign of who had been there?”
“Don’t you think I would have told you by now?”
“Was anything missing that you noticed?”
“I didn’t take the time to look, sheriff.”
“I ask only because if the house had been ransacked, it could have been a vagrant.”
“The house hadn’t been ransacked.”
“You sister’s bedroom?”
“It was a mess, but it always is. The vanity stool was overturned, the mirror had been shattered. Glass was everywhere.”
“When you left for your errand, had you locked the front door?”
“Yes.”
“Was it locked when you returned?”
She had to think for a second, then said, “No.”
“Was the lock damaged?”
“I think I would have noticed if it had been broken.”
“Then it’s possible that Miss Blanchard knew her attacker and let him into the house.”
She bent her head down and massaged her forehead.
Bill cleared his throat. “Where is Mr. Kemp?”
“His name is Dennis. He’s in Colorado.”
“What’s he do there?”
“Sets dynamite. He blasts through mountains for railroad and highway construction.” She raised her head and gave Bill a baleful look. “Is this important?”
“When did you last hear from him?”
“Barking up that tree will be a waste of your time. Every two months I go to see him. He hasn’t come home since Norma moved in with us.”
“They didn’t get along?”
“Couldn’t stand each other. She called him a bore. He called her silly and conceited.” In a mumble, she added, “Among other things.”
“If there’s so much animosity between them, why did she come to live with you?”
She hesitated, looking resentful of the question. Finally she said, “Because the man she had been living with in Austin kicked her out for cheating on him. She had no money, no job, nowhere else to go.”
Bill asked her to write down the name of the company her husband worked for. She did. The sheriff tucked it into his breast pocket.
“What about the father of her son?”
She smoked, saying nothing.
Bill prompted. “Had Norma been asking him for money? Demanding that he marry her? Something like that?”
Having smoked her cigarette down, she ground it out. “I wouldn’t know, Sheriff Amos, because I don’t know who Arthur’s father is.”
She caught the skeptical look Thatcher and Bill exchanged. “You don’t believe that? It’s true. Swear to God, I don’t know.” She turned to Thatcher. “You’re young and good-looking. Were you acquainted with my sister?”
“No, ma’am. But I saw her once.”
“Did your eyes pop out of your head?”
He gave a shy smile, and she snuffled.
“Norma had that effect on men.” Turning back to the sheriff, her momentary mirth disappeared. “She used her looks to her advantage. She had a lot of men. But to be dragging her name through the dirt while her body is still warm just doesn’t sit right with me.”
Before Bill could respond, Thatcher said, “It isn’t right. But neither is a brutal, fatal assault. What Sheriff Amos is trying to do is find out who did it. The more information you give him, the better chance he has of catching the man and seeing him punished.”
Patsy’s chest caved in a little. Her hostility cooled. As she thought over what Thatcher had said, she picked at the loose stitching on the handbag in her lap. “Norma had been carrying on an affair with Dr. Gabe Driscoll.”
She looked at Bill and Thatcher in turn. He wondered if she noted that neither was surprised to hear this.
Bill asked, “For how long?”
“Close to a year.”
“Where did they rendezvous?”
“He always came to the house. Or did. He hasn’t been there since the night his wife disappeared. Norma wasn’t happy about not seeing him.”
“Up until Mrs. Driscoll’s disappearance, how often did they meet?”
“Two or three times a week. He would come by while he was