situation.” Then, as though feeling the impact of his own declaration, he collapsed into the chair, planted his elbows on his knees, cupped his bowed head with all ten fingers, and began to sob. “What if it was your wife, Bill? God knows what’s he doing to her.”
“Who’s he talking about?” Bill asked, addressing one of his most trusted men, Scotty Graves.
“I talked to the old lady who lives across the street from the Driscolls.”
“Ol’ Miss Wise?”
“Yes, sir. She said a man came to their house today, talked to Mrs. Driscoll up on the porch.”
“Miss Wise recognize him?”
“No, sir, and she said she knew a stranger when she saw one.”
The illogic of that statement caused Bill to run his hand over the top of his head. “Maybe this stranger was sick and looking for the doc.”
“The sign was out, saying the doctor was on a call, but Miss Wise said this man stayed for several minutes. He didn’t appear to be ailing, either.”
“He go inside the house?”
“No, sir. Didn’t go no farther than the porch. Mrs. Driscoll gave him something, but Miss Wise couldn’t tell what it was.”
“Something like what?”
“Something small enough to fit in his pocket.”
“A bottle of medicine, maybe? A jar of pills?”
“We thought of that, but the doctor checked his medicine cabinet. Everything’s accounted for. Besides, he keeps the cabinet locked when he’s away. Even Mrs. Driscoll doesn’t have a key.”
“Did Miss Wise describe this stranger? Was he young, old, what?”
“Young. No more’n thirty, she said. Tall, on the slender side, dressed in a dark suit. He had dark hair. He was wearing a fedora, but he took it off while talking to Mrs. Driscoll. He was carrying a bag that looked heavy.”
“Salesman’s wares?”
“Miss Wise didn’t think so. She said it looked like the kind of bag a soldier would have.”
“Soldier?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Yeah, but she’s more than half batty,” Bill muttered. “Anything else?”
“She said he was cocky.”
“How’d she get that? Did she talk to him?”
“No, but he tipped his hat to her.”
Bill hooked his thumb in his gun belt. “Maybe he was just being polite.”
“She was watching from behind the curtain in her side parlor.”
“Out of sight?”
“She thought so, but apparently not.”
So, aware of being watched by a nosy neighbor, the young man had mockingly tipped his hat, making himself certain to be remembered. If he’d brought harm to Mrs. Driscoll, he was either incredibly stupid, or he was cocky just like the old maid had said. Bill had rather him be stupid. Someone that cocky usually didn’t give a damn, and that was dangerous.
“You boys have scouted the neighborhood?” he asked his men at large.
Scotty answered for the group. “Questioned all the nearby neighbors, searched every outbuilding for blocks around. Mrs. Driscoll was well known. If anybody had seen her, it would’ve been noted.”
“Nobody heard anything suspicious? Shouting? Barking dogs, nothing like that?”
“Nothin’ out of the ordinary, no, sir.”
“What about Mrs. Driscoll’s friends? Have you checked with them?”
“The doc knew of only two people she might visit. One’s the preacher of the Lutheran church. He hasn’t seen her since last Sunday’s service.”
The other was the local librarian, who’d told the deputy she hadn’t seen Mila Driscoll in a while, but had reassured him that none of the books she’d checked out were overdue.
“What about her family?” Bill asked.
“None closer than down around New Braunfels. Stands to reason.”
Stood to reason because it was a predominantly German town. “Have you checked with them?”
“Her parents are deceased. Doc said her uncle is the designated head of the family. We’re waiting on a long distance call to go through.”
Bill nodded absently and turned back to the doctor, who was still holding his head between his hands and moaning disconsolately. “Gabe.” He waited until the distraught man looked up at him. “Do you have any idea who this man was?”
“No.”
“Based on the description of him—”
“It could fit a dozen men, Bill. A hundred.”
He was right, so Bill didn’t press him. “Mrs. Driscoll didn’t mention having a visitor today?”
“He came asking about lodging. We used to rent out a room.”
“Did she appear afraid, apprehensive, upset?”
Even before he finished the question, the doctor was saying, “No, no. She was her usual self. Maybe a little more subdued than usual, but I think she was sensitive to my mood.”
“You were in a mood?”
“Distracted. I ran a rural route today. One of my patients had gone into labor. The baby was breech. Her sister was with her. She told me she’d assisted in breech