His nod was short, sharp. The cold steel in his gaze hadn’t lessened a bit. Okay, then...
“I’ll wait.”
She figured determination was bone-deep in this man. He had come here on a mission, one he considered righteous. Short of being given official orders, he wasn’t going to be derailed. She hoped the sheriff would be able to find a way to steer him. From her position, there was little she could do or say without her boss’s approval anyway.
“Larry,” she said finally.
Those eyes became even sharper. “What about him?”
“I knew him. Only for the couple of months he was here, but we met in Mahoney’s bar one night. He was enjoying a scotch, and I went in there to eat a ham sandwich, maybe have a beer. I sat at the bar near him, and we fell into conversation.”
He waited.
“I liked him immediately. Nice man, but I probably wouldn’t want to be the target of one of his investigative pieces.”
The faintest of frowns flickered over the major’s face. “No one would.”
“Anyway, we hit it off. He told me he was a journalist and that he was here on sabbatical to write a book. He even laughed, saying every reporter had a book in their bottom desk drawer. He never said what he was writing about. Did he tell you why he came to the back of beyond?”
“No.” His expression shut down again.
“I saw him a lot while he was here. He liked Mahoney’s—said it was his nod to Hemingway, whatever that meant. Do you know?”
He shook his head. “Probably a literary reference. A few years ago, he joked to me that you couldn’t drink your way into a novel.”
She felt a smile ease the tension in her face. “Well, he wasn’t trying to drink his way into anything. He appeared to like the atmosphere, even played darts with some of the regulars. Never a heavy drinker. We talked whenever we ran into each other, sometimes meeting at the diner for lunch. I’ve known a few reporters, and they’re never wallflowers. He’d started making friends around here.”
“That’s Larry, all right.”
She suspected this man didn’t find it easy to make friends. But maybe she was wrong. Too soon to know, except that while she wouldn’t like being the subject of Larry’s investigation, she would hate being the subject of this man’s ire.
“He started having card games at his place once a week,” she went on. “He invited me, but I’m not into cards, so I didn’t go. Maybe six or seven guys attended. Never any problem from our perspective. Which I suppose means they were reasonably quiet and didn’t get disorderly. Not much of an analysis on my part.” She tried another smile. “We’re looking into those friends.”
“Good.”
“You never know what kind of resentments might come out of a card game. Especially if they were gambling, but since Larry invited me, I doubt it.”
“He was never a gambler that I know of. At least not that way. He gambled a whole lot in other ways.”
Cat wondered if she’d just told him too much about the friends. About the card games. Dang, this man’s mere presence was making her talk too much, maybe reveal too much. Everything about him demanded answers.
She had just decided to pick up some paperwork in order to truncate this conversation by comparing written reports to digital. Gage hated the duplicate work, both on computer and paper, but like it or not, the duplication was useful. Papers couldn’t be manipulated as easily as a computer file, but a computer file was more readily accessible.
Just as she was probably about to mortally offend the major, the sheriff walked through the door.
“How’d it go, Sheriff?”
“High school wrestling match. Partial success.” Gage Dalton was a tall man with a face scarred by burns. Long ago, when he was a DEA agent, he’d been the target of a car bomb. He still limped from his injuries, and even now some of his movements exhibited pain.
She spoke again before he could pass. Major Duke was already rising from his chair. Gage wasn’t going to escape this, either.
“Sheriff, this is Major Daniel Duke, Larry Duke’s brother. You need to speak with him.”
Gage raised a brow on the unscarred side of his face. “Come with me, Major. My office is open.”
The two men disappeared down the corridor, and Cat expelled a long breath, only just then realizing she’d been holding it. Tense. Lots of tension surrounded the major.
The dispatch desk crackled to life with a call. “Burglary at 1095 Elm Street. Need backup and forensics.”
Cat wished she were able to answer the call. She had a strong feeling she wouldn’t escape the major.
A HALF HOUR LATER, as she finished up comparing reports, Gage called from the hallway.
“Cat, could you come in here, please?”
Oh God, she thought. She glanced at the dispatcher, an elderly crone who smoked like a chimney under the No Smoking sign. She had learned quickly that Velma was a fixture who must be respected. A couple of deputies had told her that the only way Velma was going to leave her job was toes first. Cat had learned that Velma mothered them all.
“Good luck,” Velma said in her smoke-roughened voice.
Apparently, Velma had gotten the same kind of impression from their visitor.
Cat squared her shoulders and marched back to Gage’s office. Maybe, just maybe, he’d found a way to contain this man. It wouldn’t help anything to have the major interfering with the investigation. He could jeopardize the case.
“Hey, Cat,” Gage said when she reached his office. “Come on in, close the door and grab a seat.”
Close the door? Gage almost never did that. She followed his request, sitting only a foot away from Daniel Duke. Who, she had to admit, was attractive. He would have been more so if she hadn’t seen the subzero chill in his gaze.
She turned her attention to Gage, hoping he had a solution.
“It seems,” he said, “that Major Duke is determined to assist our investigation.”
Oh boy.
