“Having a drink.”
“And you picked the Last Chance?” he asked scoffingly. “Baby, you hardly look like its typical barfly. That place is reserved for shit kickers and roughnecks looking for fun with dissatisfied housewives. So either you went there to get laid, or to keep a secret appointment. Which was it?”
“I was there on official business.”
“So, it was to meet somebody. Who? You’d be wise to tell me, Alex, because whoever it was got scared off when he saw me.”
“You admit that you were trailing me?” Reede remained stubbornly silent. “That’s just one of many topics we’ll address first thing in the morning.”
“Sorry. Tomorrow’s my day off.”
“It’s important.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Where will you be?”
“I said no, Counselor.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“The hell I don’t. I’m off duty tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m not.”
He cursed and blew out an exasperated breath, making certain she heard both. “If the ground’s thawed out, I’ll be at the Mintons’ practice track.”
“I’ll find you.”
Without another word, he dropped the receiver back into the cradle. He’d trapped her and he knew it. He’d heard her breathing falter when he’d asked how she’d known he had followed her. Whoever she had planned on meeting had chickened out. Who? Junior? It was disturbing how much he disliked that idea.
“Who was that?” Nora Gail asked, adjusting the lush white mink coat around her shoulders. Her beaded sweater had a low neckline. She amply filled it… and then some. In the cleft of her breasts nestled an opal as big around as a silver dollar. The gold chain suspending it in that magnificent setting was half an inch wide and studded with small, brilliant diamonds.
She took a black cigarette out of an eighteen-carat gold box. Reede picked up her matching lighter and held it to the tip of the cigarette. She curved her hand around his. The rings on her plump, pampered hand glittered. “Thank you, sugar.”
“Don’t mention it.” He tossed the lighter back onto the kitchen table and returned to his chair across from her.
“That was Celina’s girl, wasn’t it?”
“What if it was?”
“Ah.” She pulled her lips into a ruby pucker and blew a stream of smoke toward his ceiling. “Her ears must have been burning.” Tilting her hand downward, she pointed with her cigarette at the letter lying on the table. “What do you think about it?”
Reede picked up the letter and reread it, though its message had been crystal clear the first time. It urged Alexandra Gaither to cease and desist in her investigation. The letter strongly suggested that she suspend all efforts to prosecute Angus Minton, Junior Minton, and Reede Lambert on any criminal charges.
The character of each man mentioned was given a glowing review by the undersigned, who were a group of concerned citizens—among them, his guest. They were concerned not only for their esteemed colleagues who found themselves in this unfortunate circumstance, but also for themselves and their business interests, should the racetrack license be revoked in light of Ms. Gaither’s unfounded investigation.
In summation, the letter admonished her to retreat immediately and let them get down to the business of profiting well off the increased revenue a racetrack would mean to their community.
After reading the letter a second time, Reede refolded it and stuffed it into the unsealed envelope. It had been addressed to Alex in care of the Westerner Motel.
He didn’t comment on the contents. Instead, he asked, “Did you instigate it?”
“I bounced the idea off a few of the others.”
“It sounds like one of your brainstorms.”
“I’m a careful businesswoman. You know that. The others thought it was a good idea and took it from there. We all approved the final draft. I suggested that we get your input before we mail it to her.”