Best Kept Secrets(54)
goin'?"
She left him and everybody else at the Last Chance wondering.
Now, pacing the worn carpet of her motel room,
she berated herself for being such a fool. She wouldn't put
it past Reede or one of the Mintons to pay an out-of-work
cowboy a few bucks to call her and deliberately throw her
off track.
She was still stewing several minutes later when her telephone
rang. She yanked it up. "Hello."
"Do you think I'm crazy?" the familiar voice wheezed.
"Where were you?" she shouted. "I waited in that sleazy
joint for almost an hour."
"Was the sheriff there the whole time?"
"What are you talking about? Reede wasn't there."
"Look, lady, I know what I seen. I got there just as you
was goin' inside. Reede Lambert was tailin' you. Oh, he
cruised on past, but made a U-turn down the road a piece. I
didn't even stop. It wouldn't do at all for Lambert to see us
talkin' together."
"Reede was following me?"
"Damn right. I didn't count on no law, especially Lambert,
breathin' down my neck when I called you. He's thicker'n
thieves with the Mintons. I've a good mind to call off this
whole goddamn thing."
"No, no," Alex said quickly. "I didn't know Reede was
anywhere around. We'll meet someplace else. Next time, I'll
be certain he's not trailing me."
"Well . . ."
"On the other hand, if what you've got to tell me isn't all
that important . . ."
"I seen who done it, lady."
"Then where can we meet? And when?"
He named another bar, which sounded even more disreputable
than the Last Chance. "Don't go inside this time.
There'll be a red pickup parked on the north side of the
building. I'll be in it."
"I'll be there, Mr.-- Uh, can't you at least tell me your
name?"
"Nope."
He hung up. Alex cursed. She bounced off the bed and
went to the window, throwing open the drapes with the flourish
of the bullfighter in the terrible artwork.
Feeling foolish, she saw that the only car near her room
was her own. The familiar black-and-white Blazer was nowhere
to be seen. She closed the drapes, went back to the
phone, and angrily punched out another number. She was so
furious at Reede for scaring off an eyewitness, she was shaking.
"Sheriffs office."
"I want to speak to Sheriff Lambert."
"He's already left for the day," she was informed. "Is it
an emergency?"
"Do you know where he is?"
"At home, I reckon."
"What's that number, please?"
"We aren't s'pposed to give it out."
"This is Ms. Gaither. I must speak with Sheriff Lambert
tonight. It's very important. If necessary, I could track him
through the Mintons, but I hate to disturb them."
Dropping important names worked miracles. She was given
the telephone number without further delay. She intended to
put an immediate halt to the sheriffs sneaky surveillance.
Her resolve vanished when a feminine contralto voice answered
his telephone.
"It's a woman, asking for you." Nora Gail extended the
telephone receiver to Reede. Her pencil-perfect eyebrows
formed an inquisitive arch. He had been adding logs to the
fireplace across the room. He brushed his hands on the seat
of his jeans and pretended not to see the inquiry in her expression
as he took the receiver from her.
"Yeah? This is Lambert."
"This is Alex."
He turned his back on his guest. "What do you want?"
"I want to know why you were following me tonight."
"How do you know I was?"
"I ... I saw you."
"No, you didn't. What the hell were you doing in that
honky-tonk?"
"Having a drink."
"And you picked the Last Chance?" he asked scoffingly.
"Baby, you hardly look like its typical barfly. That
place is reserved for shit kickers and roughnecks looking
for fun with dissatisfied housewives. So either you went
there to get laid, or to keep a secret appointment. Which
was it?"
"I was there on official business."
"So, it was to meet somebody. Who? You'd be wise to
tell me, Alex, because whoever it was got scared off when
he saw me."
"You admit that you were trailing me?" Reede remained
stubbornly silent. "That's just one of many topics we'll address
first thing in the morning."
"Sorry. Tomorrow's my day off."
"It's important."
"That's your opinion."