“Damn right. I didn’t count on no law, especially Lambert, breathin’ down my neck when I called you. He’s thicker’n thieves with the Mintons. I’ve got a good mind to call off this whole goddamn thing.”
“No, no,” Alex said quickly. “I didn’t know Reede was anywhere around. We’ll meet someplace else. Next time, I’ll be certain he’s not trailing me.”
“Well…”
“On the other hand, if what you’ve got to tell me isn’t all that important…”
“I seen who done it, lady.”
“Then where can we meet? And when?”
He named another bar, which sounded even more disreputable than the Last Chance. “Don’t go inside this time. There’ll be a red pickup parked on the north side of the building. I’ll be in it.”
“I’ll be there, Mr.—Uh, can’t you at least tell me your name?”
“Nope.”
He hung up. Alex cursed. She bounced off the bed and went to the window, throwing open the drapes with the flourish of the bullfighter in the terrible artwork.
Feeling foolish, she saw that the only car near her room was her
own. The familiar black-and-white Blazer was nowhere to be seen. She closed the drapes, went back to the phone, and angrily punched out another number. She was so furious at Reede for scaring off an eyewitness, she was shaking.
“Sheriff’s office.”
“I want to speak to Sheriff Lambert.”
“He’s already left for the day,” she was informed. “Is it an emergency?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“At home, I reckon.”
“What’s that number, please?”
“We aren’t s’posed to give it out.”
“This is Ms. Gaither. I must speak with Sheriff Lambert tonight. It’s very important. If necessary, I could track him through the Mintons, but I hate to disturb them.”
Dropping important names worked miracles. She was given the telephone number without further delay. She intended to put an immediate halt to the sheriff’s sneaky surveillance.
Her resolve vanished when a feminine contralto voice answered his telephone.
“It’s a woman, asking for you.” Nora Gail extended the telephone receiver to Reede. Her pencil-perfect eyebrows formed an inquisitive arch. He had been adding logs to the fireplace across the room. He brushed his hands on the seat of his jeans and pretended not to see the inquiry in her expression as he took the receiver from her.
“Yeah? This is Lambert.”
“This is Alex.”
He turned his back on his guest. “What do you want?”
“I want to know why you were following me tonight.”
“How do you know I was?”
“I… I saw you.”
“No, you didn’t. What the hell were you doing in that honky-tonk?”