“Is that your clinical diagnosis?” Abigail teased.
“Mind those cards, missy.”
The men from the bar were collecting the fallen chairs and making a racket the bingo caller had to shout over.
“What are those guys doing at a bingo game if they’re not playing?”
“Most are members of the volunteer fire crew. They volunteer because they get to drink here for half price two nights a week.”
“How altruistic.”
One of the men, the tallest of the bunch, was offering to lend a hand clearing the chairs. The others waved him off. He was almost as drunk as Hank, teetering on his heels.
“Uh-oh. We might have an instant replay.”
“That’s Clint Wertz. You be careful around him,” Ruth warned.
“Any particular reason?”
“He’s got what a lady might call a ‘wandering eye’ and what I’d call a real lack of zipper control. Gives Janine good reason to be as surly as she is.”
“That’s Janine’s husband?”
“See why she wasn’t real sweet with you? To her, you’re bait.”
Clint Wertz wove toward the bar and ordered another round. Abigail caught Janine watching him with a wistful gaze, equal measures anger and remorse. Her expression reminded Abigail that missing what was still yours could be as painful as missing what was lost.
“Tonight’s final game will be a jackpot round,” the caller announced into the microphone. “The cash prize is worth three hundred dollars.”
At that, the noise level in the hall dropped to a hush. Ruth rolled up her sleeves, as though priming herself for hand-to-hand combat. “This is the biggie, hon, and it’s got my name on it. Granted, I say that every week. This time I mean it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You watch them cards like a hawk.”
Abigail gave Ruth a salute and did as she was told.
With each number called, the tension in the fire hall mounted. Even the men by the bar grew quiet. Abigail had two cards to tend. Neither showed much potential. Ruth could have handily played them herself, but she was acting like she needed a partner, a gesture Abigail greatly appreciated. For a change, she was useful. She hadn’t felt useful in what seemed an eternity.
“Bingo!” a bald man in a sweater vest yelled.
“Aw, damn.” Ruth mashed her cards into a heap.
“The guy’s about seventy,” Abigail said out of the corner of her mouth. “You could pick his pocket and he might not notice.”
“That senile Elton Curgess would enjoy it if I went rummaging around in his pockets. Let’s get out of here before I strangle the old fart.”
Together, Abigail and Ruth fell into line with the crowd as everyone filed from the fire station to their cars. Sheriff Larner caught up to them outside.
“Nice to see you made it,” he said to Abigail.
“Yeah, it was fun. I haven’t played in ages.”
“No? Well, you’ve got an expert teacher in Ruth. Best of the best. If there’s anyone here who could show you the ropes, it’s her.” Larner was laying the “down home” kindness on thick.
Ruth donned a fake grin. “That’s me. The bingo master.”
“You girls drive safe,” he told them as he strolled off.
“Is he always…?”
“In your business and actin’ like he ain’t? Yup. But he’s all the law we have on the island—him and his deputy, Ted Ornsey. Thing about Caleb Larner is, he doesn’t miss a trick. Makes him a damn good sheriff. Also makes him a pain in the rear.”
That confirmed Abigail’s earlier suspicion. The sheriff wasn’t merely being hospitable. He was feeling her out.
“Caleb’s had more right to be a pain lately,” Ruth continued. “He has a daughter in Raleigh. She’s twenty-six. Got pancreatic cancer and not much medical coverage, so the bills keep mounting. His wife’s been staying with her for months. Caleb helps how he can. Works overtime but can’t get to the mainland to visit her much. Scary, her being young as she is.”
Abigail barely knew Sheriff Larner, yet her heart went out to him. There was no perfect way to say it, no phrase that wasn’t flimsy or cliched. “That’s sad,” she said.
“It certainly is.”
“Do you want me to walk you to your car, Ruth? I hear there’s a criminal element marauding around the island.”
