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He questioned the wisdom of full disclosure, but reasoned that if he was honest on some points, he could hedge on the more consequential ones.
He said, “You got peeved because I was unreachable today, but other than that question about Crystal, which was obvious fishing about my love life—”
“You flatter yourself.”
“—you didn’t ask why I couldn’t be reached.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“If I don’t, it’ll sound worse coming from somebody else.”
“Does it relate to what we’re supposed to be talking about?”
“Roundaboutly.”
“Well?”
“I spent the better part of the day in jail.”
She reacted as though he’d told her that Martians had landed. He returned to the table and resumed his seat across from her. “I was arrested after getting into a scuffle.”
She recovered enough to ask, “With…?”
“The district attorney.” Judging by how flabbergasted she looked, he thought her reaction was genuine.
“Where did this altercation take place?”
“In his office at the courthouse.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Who started it?”
“Me.”
“What in the world were you thinking?”
“I was thinking of beating the crap out of him.”
“Over what?”
“We go way back. Bitter dislike for each other. We’ve had an ongoing grudge since we were kids.”
“What provoked you today?”
“That’s personal and irrelevant.”
“I doubt that.”
He frowned. “Enough to say, he’s a sneaky bastard. He plays dirty pool and pulls dirty tricks. I thought he might be the one in cahoots with you on this house business.”
“I’m not in cahoots with anybody, and I don’t know the district attorney. What’s his name?”
Looking directly into her eyes to test her reaction, he said, “Rusty Dyle.”
“I remember a Sheriff Dyle from when I was little.”
