Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

He reached into his pocket, took out the now familiar badge, and, looking back at her, pinned it to his lapel.

* * *



Irv was standing in the kitchen, holding the shotgun aimed at the door through which Thatcher had to pass on his way out. When he saw Irv, he stopped. The two squared off, and when Irv spotted the badge, his scowl deepened.

He said, “Badge or not, I could shoot you for trespassing.”

“You could. But just so you know, I’m unarmed. To a jury that might look like murder.”

“I could murder you for messing with my daughter-in-law.”

“I’d be dead. Laurel would be left to suffer a scandal.”

“It’s Laurel now, is it?”

“Yes.” Thatcher walked forward until the barrel of the shotgun was inches from his belly. “It’s Laurel. And hear me, Plummer. If you and your moonshining get her killed, I’m going to kill you.”

He allowed time for the words to sink in, then he stepped around the old man and left through the back door.





Forty-Four



Norma was seated on a stool at her vanity table plucking her eyebrows when Patsy sauntered into the bedroom. “You’re not even dressed yet?”

Norma yanked out the last wayward hair, dropped the tweezers onto the vanity, and swiveled around. “What’s your rush?”

“I’m not in a rush. The man at the bank is, and he keeps bankers’ hours.”

“What is the problem?”

“Something to do with a signatory card. He was expecting us at one o’clock. It’s thirty minutes after.”

“Can’t you handle it alone? I don’t want to get Arthur up just to traipse in and out of the bank.”

Five minutes later, Patsy left the house more noisily than necessary, probably in a spiteful attempt to wake Arthur from his nap. But he slept peacefully in his bassinet. Earlier Norma had placed it near the open living room window that provided a gentle southern breeze.

She was returning to her bedroom when she heard an auto braking out front. Thinking that Patsy must have forgotten something, she muttered, “Not a moment’s peace around here.”

But when she looked out the window, her irritation evolved into apprehension. Bernie Croft was climbing out of an unfamiliar automobile. It wasn’t his long touring car, but a much smaller roadster. For once, his chauffeur, whom she secretly feared, wasn’t with him.

She overlapped the sides of her silky, floral-patterned robe and tied the belt tightly around her waist. It was almost back to what it had been before the baby. Her curvy figure was coveted by women and lusted after by men. Arthur had been worth the temporary bloating, but she was glad to have her notable figure restored.

As Bernie neared the door, she opened it and, with more bravado than she felt, said, “This is a surprise.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“A delightful one.”

She stood aside; he came in.

This being his first time ever to come here, he took a look around. Like the rest of the house, the main room was shabby overall. The wallpaper was faded. The window curtain sagged unevenly. There were stains on the rug.

In these surroundings, Bernie looked all the more immaculate and imposing.

“I’m a mess,” she said. “Give me a sec?”

“Of course.”

Norma rushed into her bedroom and inspected herself from the different angles provided by the tri-panel mirror. Dammit, she didn’t look her best. Although it was after lunchtime, she’d spent a lazy morning and hadn’t even powdered her nose. There wasn’t time to pin up her hair, so she fluffed it around her shoulders. Grabbing a tube of lipstick, she applied a coating, then turned toward the door as Bernie strode in and tossed his hat into a chair piled with discarded clothing.

Embarrassed over the bedroom’s messiness, she made a self-conscious gesture of helplessness. “The baby keeps me so busy, I don’t have time to do much else.” Then around a nervous laugh, she added, “Not that I’ve ever been much of a housekeeper.”

“You weren’t expecting company.”

“Especially not such important company.”

His affectionate smile relaxed her. Gabe wouldn’t have been fool enough to tell Bernie that she was in on their secret about Pointer’s Gap.

“Would you like something? Maybe some iced tea?”

“Nothing, thank you. Except privacy.”

He shut the bedroom door with his elbow. She would have preferred that it be left open a crack so she could hear Arthur if he stirred, but Bernie was having to bat away the articles of clothing hanging on the back of the door that had swung outward and swiped his face, so she let it go.

“Did you see Arthur?”

“I took a look,” he said, “but you’re who I came to see.”

Responding to the suggestiveness of his tone, she moved her shoulder enough to make the robe slip off it. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t consult you on the baby’s name. Do you like it?”

“It’ll do.”

“Well, I couldn’t name him after you, could I?”

He laughed. “God, no.”

“He has your wide brow. I hope no one notices the resemblance.”

“No one will be looking for one,” he said. “If they look for resemblances to anyone, it will be Gabe.”