“By God,” he said. “Oh, by God.”
Turning without another word, he walked away and around the house and out of sight.
“What the hell’s the matter with him?” Sid said. “Is he mad or something?”
“I don’t think he’s mad,” I said. “I think he’s just a little disturbed.”
“What about? Because I tried to get him to consider things reasonably?”
“That might be it. I’ve got a notion you made quite an impression.”
“It was damn impolite of him, if you ask me, not even to thank us for the beer.”
“He didn’t intend to be impolite. He was abstracted. Stunned may be the word.”
“Oh, nonsense. I only pointed out a few things he should have thought of himself. I wonder why he didn’t?”
“That’s what he’s wondering. Anyhow, you were admirable and irresistible. I want to congratulate you.”
“It isn’t necessary to congratulate me for not being an idiot.”
“True. Nevertheless, it was a deft job of directing suspicion on a woman who is probably as innocent as you are.”
“Well, if she’s innocent, it will do her no harm in the end, and I’m convinced that it will be favorable to our own cause. In order to keep you out of jail, if possible, we must have as many suspects as can be arranged.”
“I see. Sort of a calculated confusion. Well, as Voltaire said, let us tend our garden. To be more precise, let us finish the yard.”
“I don’t believe I’ll clip around any more edges. I’m rather tired of it.”
“I sympathize. Clipping is not a job to sustain one’s interest very long.”
I got up and started the mower and finished mowing the backyard, and Sid sat under the tree and watched me do it.
CHAPTER 10
It was raining when I woke the next morning, the morning of Sunday, and it rained gently without stopping until about five o’clock in the afternoon, and in the meanwhile, between waking and five, it was a quiet and undemanding day that Sid and I spent pleasantly in various ways without intrusions. After the rain stopped, between five and six, we considered going out somewhere to get something to eat, but we decided that going out was something we didn’t particularly want to do, having had a pretty good time staying in, and so we found some cold chicken in the refrigerator, which we ate at the kitchen table with bread and butter and beer. It was clearing and cool outside after the rain, and we went out onto the back terrace before dark and sat there while darkness came, and the stars were out among what was left of the clouds. I went to sleep in my chair and woke up after ten, almost eleven, and Sid was asleep in her chair beside me. I woke her, and we went inside and had a drink and went to bed and to sleep after a while. What I’m trying to say is that it was a good day of its kind, and I was glad to have it to remember later, for the next one was bad.
It started out all right, a brisk walk to the office and Millie already there in a good humor with her bright head cocked like a woodpecker’s, and it stayed all right, if not exceptional, until mid-morning, which was about the time that Millie took a call from the county attorney, who wanted to talk to me. The county attorney’s name was Hector Caldwell. We were about the same age, and he had always been a friend of mine, which he was still, so far as I knew, but he was compelled in his professional capacity, as it turned out, to treat me in an unfriendly fashion. When Millie announced who it was wanted to talk to me, I took up the phone and said, “Hello, Hec,” and he said, “Hello, Gid,” and I said, “What can I do for you?” and he said, “I wonder if you could get over to my office right away,” and I said, “Well, I don’t think I can make it right away,” and he said, “I think maybe you’d better,” and I knew in an instant, although his voice was pleasant, that I damn well had no choice one way or the other. I did have the alternative of leaving town in a hurry, of course, but the alternative did not appeal to me, hurried or not, and so I left my office on the way to Hec’s and was almost to the hall when Millie stopped me.
“You be careful what you say to that Hector Caldwell,” she said.
“You’ve been listening on the extension again,” I said.
“Don’t admit anything,” she said.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t trust that son of a bitch. He wants to be governor or something someday.”
“You’re just a crazy redhead. What the hell makes you think I’ve got anything to admit?”
“I don’t think you necessarily have, although I wouldn’t bet on it, but I think he thinks you have, and I could tell by the snotty tone of his voice.”
“Snotty? It sounded normal enough to me, except possibly right at the end.”
“Well, it’s normally snotty, that’s why, but it’s right at the end that I’m mainly talking about. Who the hell does he think he is to be ordering you around?”
“He thinks he’s the county attorney, that’s who, and I think you’d better quit listening in on my telephone conversations. Don’t you have any sense of shame at all?”
“It isn’t nearly as keen as my sense of trouble, and the trouble I sense is something you’re in, whatever it may be precisely. Maybe you shouldn’t go talk to that Hector Caldwell at all. I’ll let you hide
