Best Kept Secrets(51)




engaged in their own conversation. Alex overheard Reede

say, "Ran into one of your old girlfriends last night at the

Last Chance."

Her ears picked up at the mention of the tavern where she

had an appointment later that day.

"Oh, yeah?" Junior was saying. "Who was that?"

"Gloria something. Forgot her married name. Curly black

hair, dark eyes, big tits."

"Gloria Tolbert. How'd she look?"

"Horny."

Junior gave a dirty and masculine laugh. "That's Gloria.

Takes a strong man to keep her satisfied."

"You ought to know," Reede said drolly.

"Well, what happened last night, you lucky bastard? Did

you leave a contented smile on Gloria's pretty face?"

"You know I never discuss my love life."

"That's just one of your traits that irritates the hell out of

me."

Alex turned around in time to see Junior playfully sock

Reede in the gut. His fist bounced back like he'd struck a

drum.

"Is that the best you can do, old man?" Reede taunted.

"Admit it, Minton, you're losing it."

"Like hell I am." Junior took a swipe at Reede's head.

The blow was dodged just in time. Reede tried to catch Junior

behind the knee with his boot. They fell against the hall table,

almost toppling a ceramic vase.

"Okay, boys, cut it out before you break something,"

Angus said indulgently, speaking to them as though they were

still in grade school.

Alex and Reede pulled on their coats and he opened the

door. The frigid wind swirled inside. Junior said, "Sure you

can't stay here where it's cozy?"

"I'm afraid not," Alex replied.

"Shoot. Well, good-bye then." He pressed her hand between

his and kissed her cheek.

Father and son watched as Reede assisted Alex over the



icy stone walkway to where his Blazer was parked. He helped her up into the truck, then went around to the driver's side god vaulted in.

"Brrr," Junior said, shutting the door. "Ready for a hot

toddy, Dad?"

"Not yet," Angus answered with a scowl. "It's too early

in the day to be drinking hard liquor."

"Since when have you taken into consideration the time

of day when you wanted a drink?"

"Get in here. I want to talk to you." Limping to favor his

toe, he led his son back into his den. "Stoke up that fire,

will ya?"

When the flames were licking fresh logs, Junior faced his

father. "What is it? Not business, I hope. I'm taking an

official day off," he said around a yawn, stretching like a

sleek cat.

"Alex Gaither."

Junior pulled down his arms and frowned. "She was all

fired up about that burial business when she came in, wasn't

she? But you brought her around."

"I only told her the truth."

"You made it sound as convincing as a good lie."

"Will you be serious for once?" Angus barked.

Junior looked baffled. "I thought I was."

"You listen to me," Angus said sternly, aiming a finger

at his son. "Only a damn fool would laugh off her determination

to get to the bottom of this thing. Even if she is a

good-looking woman, she means business. She looks soft,

but she isn't. She's tough as boot leather when it comes to

this murder case."

"I'm aware of that," Junior said sulkily.

"Ask Joe Wallace if you don't believe it."

"I do. I just find it hard to take her seriously when she

looks as good as she does."

"You do, huh? Well, I don't see you doing anything about

that, either."

"I asked her out here for drinks, and she came."





"What have you done since then?"

"What do you want me to do? Court her like some snot-nosed

kid? Go the flowers and chocolates route?"

"Yes, goddammit!"

"She'd never fall for that," Junior snorted, "even if I

could do it with a straight face."

"You listen to me, boy. You've got life good. You drive

a new Jag every year, wear a big, diamond-studded Rolex,

go skiing, deep-sea fishing, and to the horseraces whenever

you feel like it, and you gamble big.

"But if this little lady has her way, she'll bust us. Yeah,"

he said, reading his son's frown correctly, "you might have

to go out and get a job for once in your life."

Angus reined in his temper and continued in a more conciliatory

tone. "She hasn't got a prayer of turning up any

evidence. I think she knows that. She's throwing darts into

the dark and hoping to hit one of us in the ass. Sooner or

later, hopefully, her arm'll get tired."

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