“Most of the time it wasn’t so bad,” Corrine continued, “but after the hullabaloo that creep Wally Johnson caused, Gert—”
“Wally Johnson? The man who was murdered?”
“Yeah. The night after he did this to me.” She pointed to her face and patted her arm in the sling. “The sheriff came out to Lefty’s and asked did I know anything about his killing. I told him nothing except I was glad he was dead.”
Laurel remembered Irv telling her that he had seen Dr. Driscoll at the roadhouse, attending a girl who’d been beaten. Things had come full circle.
“Anyhow,” Corrine continued, “all ol’ Gert cares about is money, money, money. I thought she was gonna beat the tar out of Wally for ruinin’ what she called my ‘earnin’ capacity.’ Now he’s dead, she’s takin’ it out on me that my face is messed up and my eye has gone wonky. She’s gotten meaner by the day. So, last night, when I saw a chance to get away from her, I took it.”
“With Mr. Hutton.”
“Um-huh. He sure is nice. Handsome, too. I clapped eyes on him the second he walked into Lefty’s. I thought to myself, now there’s a man that might be worth droppin’ drawers for. Gert must’ve thought so, too. The bitch pounced, offerin’ her wares, I’m sure. He didn’t go upstairs, though.
“Then, after the shootin’ started, I ran outside like everybody else. I saw Mr. Hutton come out carryin’ the old man. He laid him in the back of the truck. I ran over, took in what was happenin’, offered to help if he’d let me tag along. He cussed somethin’ fierce. You know how a man does when he’s had about all the aggravation he can tolerate? But then he said okay and told me to get in the truck.
“I didn’t give him time to think twice. I hopped in, put your daddy-in-law’s head in my lap, so it wouldn’t be bangin’ around while we was driving. Along the way, though, he started bleedin’ real bad. I hollered at Mr. Hutton to stop. He came back, took a look, and that’s when he pulled off his shirt and stuffed the bullet hole with it. Are y’all sparkin’?”
These sudden questions of Corrine’s continued to throw Laurel. When she realized what the girl was asking, she replied with a definitive no.
Corrine giggled like she knew otherwise, then scooted her chair back. “You go see to Irv. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
“Really, Corrine, you don’t have to do that. I don’t expect anything from you.”
“Neither did Mr. Hutton, which is why I think he’s right decent. And real serious like, ain’t he? Go on now, before the ol’ man gets cranky. I took him some breakfast. He’s probably finished it by now.”
* * *
Laurel tapped once on Irv’s bedroom door before pushing it open. He was half sitting up, a tray on his lap. His lined features were compressed into a frown.
As Laurel entered, she asked, “Are you hurting?”
“I’ve felt better,” he groused, “and that girl didn’t put enough sugar in the oatmeal.”
“I know that you know her name. You failed to mention she was the one brutalized by Wally Johnson and treated by Dr. Driscoll.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Laurel removed the tray from his lap and set it on the dresser. Despite his complaint, she noticed he’d eaten everything. She went back over to the bed and laid her palm against his forehead. He didn’t feel feverish. “Have you used the chamber pot?”
“The girl’s already emptied it.”
“Did you have trouble getting out of bed?”
“No. I’m limber as a ballerina. Did a coupla twirls while I was up.” At her look, he added, “What do you think? Yes, I had trouble. Took twenty minutes to take a piss.”
He was way past cranky. “I’ll bring you a jar to use in the bed.”
“The girl already offered. I told her hell no. I’m not an invalid.”
Laurel restrained herself from commenting on that. “I need to change your bandage.”
“That can wait.” He motioned toward the end of the bed. “Sit down so I don’t have to crane my neck. We gotta talk.”
She did as requested. “What’s on your mind?”
“You have to ask?”
He would become even more irascible if she pretended not to know what they needed to talk about, so she went straight to the point. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage things while you’re recovering. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“You’re already toting more than your fair share, Laurel. Damn me for getting my