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He watched her drive away and thought of Debby. She’d been like that. Outgoing and smart and fascinating to talk to. He felt like a victim all over again. Not that he planned to get involved with the trooper. He didn’t plan to get involved with anyone.
He went back to work, preoccupied, and got on with the day’s work. He got up from his desk and went to look at the pictures on the wall, just for something to do. He was worried and bored out of his mind. “I must be going nuts,” he told himself.
“Bad habit, talking to yourself,” Lassiter mused as he came in the door.
Cody turned and glared at him.
Lassiter didn’t need to be told why. It was a small community and gossip must be overwhelming about his ride in the country with Abby and Lucy.
“Don’t blame me,” Lassiter said, dropping into the chair beside Cody’s desk. “You’ve been going around with a pretty little blonde. A woman like Abby isn’t going to sit on the shelf for long.” He pursed his lips at the sheriff’s black glare, growing worse by the second. “I understand that your cousin, Bart Riddle, even asked her to a community dance.”
He hadn’t known that. He was even more livid. “I helped the trooper subdue a perp who was giving her a hard time out on the highway,” he said shortly.
“Well, there aren’t many perps in the local coffee shop, I imagine,” Lassiter drawled.
Cody looked away. He was a public official. It would look bad if he threw the other man out onto the sidewalk. Really bad.
“Did you know that Bobby Grant made bail in Florida?” Lassiter asked suddenly, and he was serious.
Cody scowled. “How?” he exclaimed. “The police chief said he was going to make sure that the bail was set so high, Grant couldn’t raise it!”
“There was a new judge sitting who felt so sorry for the poor man, jilted and arrested, and charged with crimes that just couldn’t be true,” Lassiter explained.
“Don’t tell me. The judge was a young woman and Grant charmed her.”
“Exactly,” Lassiter replied. “Remember the diamond ring that Miss Whatley gave him? He sold it. He had more than enough for his reduced bail and to apparently pay somebody to go after Mr. Whatley again. And this time, the perp he sends might be more successful.”
Cody’s jaw tautened. “I’ll double the jailers.”
“Won’t help,” Lassiter returned. “He’s got more than one person on his payroll. That’s all my operative has been able to find out so far, but he’s working on it.”
“That’s just great,” Cody muttered. He glanced at Lassiter. “I don’t guess Julia, Whatley’s housekeeper, would be one of the people? She’s been bringing him food.”
“Have it checked,” came the cool advice. “Nobody is above suspicion right now.”
“Good idea.” He sat down behind his desk. “Well, starting tomorrow. He’s already had a slice of that pie she sent today. The jailer said he took it in. Even asked if it was okay.” He rolled his eyes. “Now, how about Nita Whatley? I hope the police chief is keeping an eye on her.”
“He is. Mr. Grant has made threats.”
“I’d like to lock him up,” Cody said irritably.
“You’ve got company. The police chief, I’m told, was all but jumping up and down in a rage when Grant was released on bond. But we’re still working on enough evidence to get him to trial in Denver. There’s an exhumation coming up, Miss Henry’s sister, Candy. Violet had to be talked into that. She’s deeply religious and she loved her sister. But in the end, she didn’t want Grant to get away with murder. We’re also checking dates and interviewing people about Candy’s last night before she was killed. We think she was having dinner with Bobby Grant just before she died. Remember what I told you, about Grant’s blonde visitor when he was living at Nita Whatley’s home, the one who had a way with exotic poisons? Some can’t be detected.”
“I hope that’s not the case, if she was poisoned,” came the quiet reply.
“So do I. I hate to see a man get away with murder, especially a smug so-and-so like Bobby Grant. He seems to think he’s beaten the law, even more so now that he got out on bond. All they could hold him for was assault, and it wasn’t a violent one. Even Miss Whatley had to confess that he only tapped her on the cheek.” He glanced at Cody. “There was a bruise, of course, but he told the judge that it was pre-existing, that the police chief was enamored of Miss Whatley so naturally he was prejudiced.”
“Give me a break!” Cody exploded.
“I think she was afraid to admit how hard he’d hit her,” he continued irritably. “He made a lot of threats and, police chief notwithstanding, she’s on her own at her home.” He leaned back. “I was young and impressionable once,” Lassiter sighed. “Seems like a million years ago, now, but I vaguely remember how easily I was led.” He chuckled. “That was my excuse for why I had two marijuana cigarettes in my pocket in my junior year of high school. My dad didn’t buy it. He grounded me for two weeks. I missed the junior prom, and I had a hot date, too. I raged and cussed and slammed things around. It did no good at all. My father,” he added, “is formidable in a temper.”
“So was mine,” Cody recalled. His face tautened. “He’d pick up anything he could find and use it on me or my mother when he was drinking.”
“Not my dad,” Lassiter replied, smiling. “He loves all of us, but especially my mom. She was in tears over the illegal cigarettes, which was why Dad came down so hard on me. He reminded me that it was a gateway drug.” He rolled his eyes. “Now it’s legal in several states. But ten years ago, it wasn’t. Mom was heartbroken. She was afraid I’d be arrested and sent to jail.”
Cody found that idea unusually appealing, when he recalled Abby riding around with the man. He pulled himself up. This was no time for personal vendettas. “Can’t they find some charge to hold Grant on?”
“Believe me, the police chief is working on it. So is an assistant district attorney, who also knows the Whatley family and was outraged on Miss Whatley’s behalf.” He crossed his long legs. “There’s a possibility that a local attorney’s nephew is tied to this case.”
