to put through the long-distance call to the governor’s office. He asked Scotty to call the coroner’s office in Dallas and ask about the timing of Norma Blanchard’s autopsy, while Bill himself placed a call to his house and spoke with Mrs. Cantor about Daisy’s condition.
While they were occupied, Thatcher wandered over to the county map tacked to the wall and began to study it. He half-listened as Bill conversed with his wife’s friend and then spoke to the governor’s toady. To an outlandish extent, Bill downplayed the seriousness of the previous night’s crimes, even referring to it as “mischief.”
When Bill hung up from that call, Thatcher said, “Mind if I get back to work? I’ve got horses to exercise.”
“Of course. I’ve got plenty to do here while Gabe wallows in remorse. If I need you, I’ll come find you.”
Thatcher left, knowing that he might be hard to find for the next few hours. Neither the sheriff nor anyone else would know where to look.
* * *
Laurel and Irv transferred the crates he’d brought from the stills to the cellar where they would be stored until the O’Connors came for them that evening. Irv apologized for being unable to do his share of the lifting, carrying, and moving.
“I’d rather you let your arm heal,” Laurel told him as she put the last crate in its place.
She also loaded supplies for Corrine and Ernie into Irv’s truck. As he climbed up into the driver’s seat, he said, “We’ll have to wait and see if hell breaks loose again before we decide whether or not to do runs tonight.”
“Don’t take any chances. If there’s the least sign of trouble, lay low. Promise.”
“I promise. Keep your pistol handy.”
She patted her skirt pocket and waved him off.
The kitchen was hot, and only got hotter from the ovens as she baked and the afternoon wore on. She had just taken the last pies out of the oven and set them to cool when there was a knock on her front door.
It was too early for Davy and Mike, and they always came around to the back. Pushing wisps of damp hair off her heated face, she went through the living room to the front door. The windowpane in its upper half gave her clear sight of the callers. Her heart stuttered, but since she’d been seen, she had no choice except to open the door.
In the background, a recent model car was parked in the street, a large man standing beside it. Out of reflex, she patted her skirt pocket, but she smiled. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Plummer. You may not remember meeting me. It was a cursory introduction in—”
“The sheriff’s office.”
Mayor Bernie Croft said, “Your baby daughter was very ill. I heard about her passing. My condolences are long overdue.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to his companion, who removed his bowler hat.
The mayor said, “Mr. Landry says you two have met?”
“Briefly. How do you do, Mr. Landry?”
“Mrs. Plummer.” He gave her a courtly little bow and a smile that flashed gold.
“What can I do for you gentlemen? Sell you a pie?”
The mayor laughed. “As delicious as that sounds, we’d rather you sell us your corn liquor.”
Laurel called upon every reserve of discipline she had not to react. “I beg your pardon?”
“May we come in?” Landry said.
With the speed of comets, several options whizzed through her mind. None were good. But the worst of them would be to refuse them entry. That would only arouse suspicion.
“Of course.” She stepped aside. Croft and Landry came in. Before shutting the door, she cast a furtive glance toward the car and chauffeur.
Her guests looked around at the empty front room. She said, “As you see, I haven’t furnished the parlor yet, so I can’t offer you a seat.”
“Personally, I think furnishings would detract from that handsome spandrel,” Landry said and moved to stand under it. “Craftsmanship like this is rare these days.”
“Let’s get to business, shall we?” Croft turned to her. “Mrs. Plummer, are you acquainted with a man by the name of Thomas Johnson?”
“No.”
“You might never have met him, but you know who he is. He goes by the nickname of Tup.”
…we found Cousin Tup. In a hole in the ground with his arm mangled… Thatcher’s words echoed, but she tried to remain impassive. “I’m sorry. I don’t know him.”
Croft smiled. “Well, he knows you. His arm was caught in a bear trap set by you. He lost the arm.”
“How terrible for him. But I still have no idea what