Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

“May we come in?” Landry said.

With the speed of comets, several options whizzed through her mind. None were good. But the worst of them would be to refuse them entry. That would only arouse suspicion.

“Of course.” She stepped aside. Croft and Landry came in. Before shutting the door, she cast a furtive glance toward the car and chauffeur.

Her guests looked around at the empty front room. She said, “As you see, I haven’t furnished the parlor yet, so I can’t offer you a seat.”

“Personally, I think furnishings would detract from that handsome spandrel,” Landry said and moved to stand under it. “Craftsmanship like this is rare these days.”

“Let’s get to business, shall we?” Croft turned to her. “Mrs. Plummer, are you acquainted with a man by the name of Thomas Johnson?”

“No.”

“You might never have met him, but you know who he is. He goes by the nickname of Tup.”

…we found Cousin Tup. In a hole in the ground with his arm mangled… Thatcher’s words echoed, but she tried to remain impassive. “I’m sorry. I don’t know him.”

Croft smiled. “Well, he knows you. His arm was caught in a bear trap set by you. He lost the arm.”

“How terrible for him. But I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I visited him in the hospital yesterday.”

“So he’s a friend of yours?”

“No. I paid him a courtesy call as a public servant.”

“It must have cheered him to be so honored.”

“Not in the slightest. Mr. Johnson used gutter language to denounce me and my elected office. But then, he wasn’t in the best of moods. The nub is festering. They may have to do additional cutting.”

She looked over at Landry, who still had his head back, admiring the room divider. Not a hair out of place.

“Mr. Johnson was also elaborately cursing the individual responsible for his misfortune.” He smiled. “You, Mrs. Plummer.”

“I?”

“You may think I’ve come to censure you.”

“Censure me for what, Mr. Croft? For setting a bear trap, which I would have no earthly idea how to do? It sounds difficult and dangerous.”

He pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and checked the time. “I have a schedule, so let’s cut to the chase. You were brought to the attention of the disreputable Johnson clan by one Gertrude Atkins.

“She went to Hiram—I’m sure you’ve heard of him, as his name is widely known in moonshiner circles. Gert alleged that it was you who killed Hiram’s kinsman, Wally.”

“Obviously this woman is deranged.”

“She also informed Hiram that you are poaching on his family business in the boom towns, and even in many local establishments, including her own. Tup and a younger Johnson, Elray, were sent to your still to teach you a lesson. How did they know where it was, you ask? Gert tracked a runaway whore to the shack once occupied by you and your father-in-law. From there it was easy to find the location of your industry. Is the purpose of Mr. Landry’s and my visit becoming clearer now?”

“No, but this fanciful narrative is entertaining. However, I also have a schedule, mayor. I’d like for you to leave.”

He said, “Don’t mistake my reason for being here. I assure you I didn’t come on behalf of the wretched Johnsons. I wish them all in hell. You see, the Johnsons and I are archrivals.” He smiled again. “You’ve gotten yourself on their fighting side. I’ve come to offer you my protection.”

“You have me at a complete loss. Protection from what?”

“Capture, incarceration. If you’re lucky, that is. If the Johnsons don’t get to you before the law does.”

“Don’t you represent the law, Mr. Mayor?”

“I represent the business interests of the community.”

“As well as your own.”

“If I prosper, everyone does.”

“Hmm.”

“Here’s how it works. You give me your contacts in the boom towns. Together, Mr. Landry and I can increase that trade double-fold, triple-fold. You’ll supply us with all the whiskey you can produce, but we’ll take over the distribution. This system greatly decreases the risk to you, your operation, and your associates. We provide this protection for a percentage of the net.”

“I say again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about a ten percent take. Which is a token, really. You obviously have a very good distiller because your product sells so well. You’re savvy, and you have backbone. Admirable qualities to be sure, especially in a fair lady.

“But your foremost asset is your friend, Thatcher Hutton, who is now serving as a reserve deputy sheriff. A lot of information could be acquired by sharing a mattress with someone inside the sheriff’s office.”

Heat rushed to her head. She looked over at Chester Landry, who was watching her with a smarmy smile, as though waiting to see how she was going to worm out of this.

She turned back to the mayor. “You insult me, sir. You also insult Mr. Hutton. I have pies delivered to the boom towns. Is that what you want a slice of? I didn’t think so. Get out of my house.”

He grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Mrs. Plummer, you’re quite charming and glib, but pleading ignorance is a waste of time. Many of the moonshiners already under my protection buy from the same suppliers of goods as you. I know exactly how many fruit jars and pounds of sugar your father-in-law purchases for you on a routine basis. I know the gentleman in Weatherford who sold him copper recently. In turn you’ve insulted me, my intelligence, by pretending that you aren’t distilling illegal whiskey.”