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“I think there’s a very high probability of that, yes.”
“But how could he know that you’re a threat to him? As far as everyone in town is concerned, you’re just my fiancé.”
“My guess is that he doesn’t know I’m out to trap him,” Owen said quietly. “It’s more likely that he’s figured out that I took Crabshaw’s money before he could get to it. I told you that I thought he was in the library yesterday, watching the payoff. He saw me go into the restroom after Crabshaw left. And when he went to make the pickup there was no envelope.”
“So he leaped to the conclusion that you had gotten to it ahead of him. But following that logic, how does he think you learned of the payoffs and where they were made?”
Owen frowned. “Maybe he figures that I accidentally discovered the envelope. Or he may think that Crabshaw confided in me. Who knows? He probably believes that you and I are in this together.”
“Perhaps he was simply trying to frighten us away from Villantry,” Amy suggested slowly.
“It’s possible that was his goal.” Owen took her hand.
“Where are we going?”
“To wake the local chief of police.”
Amy instantly dug in her heels. “But, Owen, if you tell him about this, you’ll have to tell him everything. I don’t want to betray Arthur’s confidence unless we must.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a professional, remember? I know how to talk to a cop.”
Amy looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t ask. It’s a trade secret.”
•••
“Some joyridin’ kid, no doubt.” George P. Hawkins, chief of police of Villantry, poured himself a cup of coffee.
Amy smiled weakly. “That’s what I said.”
“Or a drunken transient.” Hawkins carried the cup back to his desk and lowered his considerable bulk into the chair. “Happens once in a while. Come mornin’ we’ll find the truck abandoned outside of town or in a ditch. You’ll see.”
Owen lounged against the wall near the office window and studied Hawkins with brooding speculation. “Whoever was behind the wheel aimed directly for us. If we hadn’t made it up the steps and into the alcove, we wouldn’t be here talking to you now.”
Hawkins squinted at Owen. “Which brings up an interestin’ point. Mind tellin’ me just what you two were doin’ out there behind the library at this hour of the night?”
Amy caught Owen’s eye and held her breath. She could hardly blame him if he told Hawkins the whole story, but a part of her still wanted to protect Arthur Crabshaw.
Owen shrugged. “Amy and I took a walk in the park after the band concert.”
“The park I can understand,” Hawkins said. “But what the hell were you doin’ behind the library buildin’?”
“Looking for privacy,” Owen said smoothly. “We got there just as some meeting was ending. We went around the corner to avoid the crowd.”
Hawkins gave him a man-to-man look. “You two want privacy, you better leave Villantry. This is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business here.”
“Is that a fact?” Owen asked politely.
“It’s a fact, all right.”
Owen straightened away from the wall. “Then it shouldn’t take too long to find out who was behind the wheel of that city truck, should it? If and when you do find out who nearly ran us down tonight you can reach us at the Villantry Inn.”
Hawkins glowered at him. “I know where you’re stayin’.”
Owen smiled coldly. “Right. This is a small town. You know everything.”
“Yep. I also know you two got connectin’ rooms at the Villantry Inn. Try usin’ them next time, instead of takin’ a walk in the park.”
