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“Owens’s nephew?” he exclaimed. “How?”
“He’s been trying to get money out of local people for months, even hounded his uncle for it. Now, all of a sudden, he’s wearing new clothes and driving a new car and he just moved into a rental unit. Odd, wouldn’t you say?”
“How interesting,” Cody mused.
“I’ve got people working on that, too. My sister, for one. She can get blood out of a turnip. The date Owens’s nephew deposited money in his checking account is also interesting. It was the same day Grant was released from jail. And it was a wire transfer.”
“This case gets more confusing by the day.”
“And more interesting,” Lassiter agreed. He sighed. “Well, things being the way they are, you’d better arrest me for loitering or something and get me back in jail next to Horace Whatley. He’s not safe on his own, especially now.”
“I have to agree. If you’re sure you want to be locked up?”
“Don’t see that I have much choice,” Lassiter replied. “If we want to keep Horace alive, that is.”
Cody got up. “Come on back. I’ll find you a nice, cozy cell next to Horace.”
“How about breakfast in bed, some sports magazines, and a box of gourmet brownies? Oh, and a nice cappuccino? You could take that pretty little blonde with you to buy it,” he added with pure malice.
Cody unlocked the cell with a burning glare. “Be careful. You could be confined with all sorts of roommates if you get me really hot.”
Lassiter stepped into the cell and watched it close. “You could ask Abby to come visit me,” he said innocently. “She’s the sort of woman who would wait for years while a man served his time. And she’s a terrific cook.”
Cody barely kept his temper. He wanted so badly to drag Lassiter out of that cell and throw a punch at him. Unthinkable.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Horace Whatley called to him. Cody stopped at his cell, which was next to Lassiter’s. “You’ve arrested Mr. Lassiter again? That makes, let me see, three times, doesn’t it?” he asked worriedly. “Have you heard from my sister?”
Cody hesitated, but there was really no reason not to tell him. “Bobby Grant’s out of jail on bond. Now, don’t worry,” he added when the little man’s face contorted. “She’s got watchers she doesn’t even know about, and the police chief will be keeping a very close eye on her.”
He nodded. “Dan was always sweet on her. She didn’t like guns, you know, so she wouldn’t go out with him.” He smiled. “I guess times change.”
“So do people,” he replied.
“You be careful, Sheriff,” Whatley said gently. “I mean, if Nita and I are in danger, you could be, too. So could this nice Mr. Lassiter—anybody close to you. Mr. Grant will be furious that he lost my sister’s fortune. He may have a hit list.”
Cody chuckled. “You watch too many mobster movies, Mr. Whatley,” he said. “It’s highly unlikely that he’d target a sheriff, even if he had a way to get at me. I’m here in Wyoming and he’s in Florida.”
“My uncle was CIA during the Cuban Missile Crisis,” Whatley replied soberly. “There was some talk of mob involvement, you know, about getting rid of Castro. My uncle said there were all sorts of people who were eaten up with revenge and you’d never know it until somebody died mysteriously. I guess he knew what he was talking about, because he died after lunch one day of a heart attack when he’d never even had heart trouble. He talked about a certain mission. Nita and I heard, from a friend in government, that he talked too much. He lived in a small town up in Montana,” he added deliberately. “They can get you anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Cody said and meant it. “But this isn’t Cuba, and we don’t have mobsters around here.”
“But you do,” Whatley returned, surprised. “That nephew of Mr. Owens was dating a girl who was thick with the Chicago mob until just recently. Didn’t you know?”
Cody had a headache. It was new and sudden and he was certain that it was going to fry his brain. The mob. Here? In Catelow?
“I’ll check that out,” he told the smaller man with a smile. “Don’t you worry. We’ll keep you safe.”
Mr. Whatley hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else. But in the end, he just smiled.
THREEDAYSLATER, Cody went to the dry cleaners to drop off his spare uniform and almost collided with Abby in the doorway.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said, and smiled politely, as if he were a stranger.
He hesitated. His heart went wild at just the nearness of her. “Abby,” he began, searching for words he was having a hard time finding.
“I’m sorry, I’m on my lunch hour. Good to see you, Sheriff,” she added, and walked away.
Cody stared after her with his heart sinking in his chest. He felt a door close. It was like ice down his spine.
