Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

That distressing thought was interrupted when he heard an automobile approaching. Sheriff Amos? That deputy, Scotty, again? Had they found her?

Heart thumping, he drained his bourbon, rolled up off the sofa, and padded over to the bay window. Peeking around the edge of the drapery, he watched a shiny black touring car come to a stop in front of his house. Around town, it was a familiar automobile. As was the driver, whose name was Jimmy Hennessy. He got out and assisted Bernie Croft from the backseat.

The mayor strutted up Gabe’s walkway, chest thrust out like a despot about to watch a parade of his military might.

Hennessy stayed with the car, a daunting, pugnacious presence against the backdrop of Miss Wise’s Victorian house and bright petunia beds.

The doorbell jingled. Mila’s uncle went to answer. Gabe heard him quietly explaining that the doctor was unavailable to visitors and wouldn’t be seeing patients until further notice.

Bernie, of course, was having none of it. He declared that the doctor would see him. Over the uncle’s objections, Bernie came inside. Gabe followed the sound of his footsteps, which stopped outside his office door.

There was hard knocking. “Gabe, it’s Bernie.”

Gabe’s head dropped forward, and he maintained that helpless pose until the door was rapped on again, this time more imperiously.

“Open up.”

Gabe trudged to the door, flipped the lock, and pulled it open. Looking beyond Bernie, Gabe addressed the apologetic uncle. “It’s all right. Mayor Croft is a friend.”

The uncle retreated. Bernie forged in. Gabe closed the door.

Bernie went straight over to the ledge of the bookshelf where he helped himself to the bottle of bourbon, splashing some into a tumbler. When Bernie turned and extended the bottle toward Gabe, he shook his head.

Noticing the empty glass on the end table beside the sofa, Bernie said, “Just as well, I think. Appears you’ve already been imbibing.”

Gabe didn’t reply, but returned to the sofa and slumped against the back cushions. Mila had spent months painstakingly doing the crewelwork on them.

The mayor made himself comfortable in an armchair. “You should open a window, Gabe. You stink. The whole room reeks of you.”

He could smell his sour odor himself. Since having to report Mila missing, he hadn’t washed, hadn’t shaved. With indifference, he’d observed himself becoming more and more disheveled, but had done nothing to stop the deterioration.

“That’s what you came to tell me? That I stink?”

Bernie took a sip of whiskey. “The D.A. has declined to indict Hutton. He’s been released from custody.”

That was hardly surprising, as no evidence had been found to implicate him. But that he’d been eliminated as a suspect wasn’t welcome news, which Gabe supposed was the reason Bernie had come to break it to him personally.

“No other persons of interest?”

“None. Of course they’re continuing the search. But sooner or later the zeal will begin to flag, and, eventually, they’ll stop looking. I’m sure you realize that.”

Gabe nodded morosely.

The mayor crossed one leg over the other and propped his glass of whiskey on his knee.

Alerted by the feigned casualness, Gabe sat up straighter. “What?”

“Do you recognize the name Wally Johnson?”

“Of the infamous Johnsons?”

“More infamous than most. It was Wally who beat up that whore at Lefty’s. The one you were summoned to treat.”

“So?”

“His body was found this morning. He’d been assassinated. My sources in the sheriff’s department tell me it was ghastly. Carrion birds and such.”

Gabe just looked at him with dispassion.

After an ahem, Bernie said, “The reason I bring it up, this homicide will divert attention from your wife’s disappearance. Now that Bill Amos has a murder to solve, and seeing as how it involves a pack of jackals like the Johnsons, he’ll be focused on that. The missing person’s case will fade into thin air.”

Gabe plopped back onto the cushions. “What happens then?”

“You resume your practice. And you begin working for me.”

Gabe dug his middle finger and thumb into his eye sockets. He mumbled, “I don’t think I can.”

Around a soft laugh Bernie said, “You can. You will. Consider this a swift kick in the ass.”

Gabe lowered his hand from his eyes. “It’s too soon. I’m not over the shock of Mila yet.”

“Get over it. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

“Look at me, Bernie. I can barely function, much less take on…additional responsibilities.”

Bernie tossed back the rest of his whiskey and, with a decisive thump, set the glass beside Gabe’s empty one on the end table. “This whining won’t do, Gabe.”

With desperation, he said, “I can’t just snap my fingers and have things return to any kind of normalcy. It’s going to take time.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Smiling, the mayor got up and walked over to the sofa. He set a heavy hand on Gabe’s shoulder and gave it a paternal squeeze. “You have two weeks.”

* * *



It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon before Bill made the return trip to town. It was a long drive, allowing him time to mentally review what he’d observed at the scene of the homicide and what he knew about the Johnson clan.