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 births before, that she could handle it. I had several other people to see, so I left them.
“But I was worried about the danger to both the mother and child that a difficult delivery like that could be. It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with Mila, not with her being in her condition. As it is, she’s nervous, this being her first.”
“When’s the baby due?”
“Two more months.”
Bill took a deep breath. “So she read your mood and was a bit subdued. Anything else out of the ordinary?”
“No. We had supper. I went into my office and did some paperwork. She was crocheting.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Around ten o’clock. We were getting ready for bed. I got an emergency call.”
“The breech birth?”
“No.” He cast a nervous look around the room. “Lefty’s. One of the, uh, waitresses got worked over by a customer.”
Bill took a visual survey of his deputies, who gave him various versions of a shrug. One said, “First we’ve heard of it.”
“Gert wanted it kept quiet,” Gabe said.
Lefty’s was a roadhouse that had the best burgers within fifty miles. Also the best whores. Sheriff Amos couldn’t vouch for that personally, but that was the general consensus known by everybody.
Lefty flipped burgers while his wife, Gert, oversaw the more lucrative side of the business. A ruckus of one sort or another was frequently incited by one of the “waitresses.” Inevitably those incidents resulted in somebody bleeding.
Bill reasoned that Gert wanted this incident kept quiet so not to draw the law’s attention to the place. Bill was well aware of the copious amount of bootleg liquor now being served in Lefty’s back room. He would need to get out there and deal with that, but it took a back burner to Mrs. Driscoll’s disappearance.
“You took care of the girl?” he asked Gabe.
“Yes.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“In time. Can all this wait?”
The doctor’s patience was fraying. Bill had to keep him centered. “I’ve got to establish a time line, Gabe. What time did you get home and discover Mrs. Driscoll gone?”
“Late. On my way back into town, I stopped in to check on the breech birth. The baby had turned at the last minute. The delivery went fine. I checked out the mother and baby.” His voice hitched. “While my own wife and baby—”
“Gabe.” Bill spoke his name brusquely to keep him on track. “What time did you get home?”
“A little after one o’clock. I was exhausted, but hungry. I made a sandwich and ate it before going upstairs.” He looked down at his hands as though they held the answers. “Mila wasn’t in bed. Not in the bathroom. I turned the house upside down, searched the yard. When I couldn’t find her anywhere, I called here. That’s it.” When he looked up at Bill, his chin was quivering. “She wouldn’t have left on her own.”
“I don’t think so, either,” Bill said, briefly laying his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “But let’s not panic. Backtrack a little. Was she in bed when you left for the roadhouse?”