Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

“Everybody and his dog takes a cut.”

“If you don’t like the system, you should have invested in another enterprise.”

“As it is now, the system is taking money out of my pocket.”

The gold tooth flashed. “But by anyone’s standards, they’re still awfully deep pockets.”

Bernie grumbled in response, then said, “It takes only one hotshot like your pal Randy to put all of us in jeopardy. Advise him to keep his fat mouth shut.”

“I’ll put it more diplomatically, but consider the problem of Randy’s loquaciousness solved.” With that, he shot his cuffs and straightened his cuff link. “Anything happening toward finding that missing woman?”

“Nothing.”

“How’s the doctor getting on?”

“He isn’t. He’s holed up in his house. He hasn’t resumed seeing patients.” Bernie didn’t add that he wanted to throttle the man. Gabe was a veritable wreck. He needed to be brought up to snuff. Soon.

“What was his missus like?”

“You’re speaking in the past tense.”

Chester shrugged negligently.

Bernie said, “She had butter-colored curls, a round, rosy face, and big jugs. A fraulein. So anybody with an axe to grind against the Germans could have wished her harm. Including our sheriff. He lost a son to the war.”

“He’s cleared Hutton as a suspect.”

“He hasn’t cleared anybody.” Frustrated, Bernie got up and moved to the window again. “Speaking of.” Across the street, Hutton was engaged in conversation with Irv Plummer’s daughter-in-law.

Chester joined him at the window. “Who’s she?”

Bernie filled the bootlegger in on what he knew about the woman’s history and described the scene that had taken place in the sheriff’s office. “Stunned us all that she and Hutton had met, but she backed up everything he had told us about his random arrival here.”

“Well, then,” Chester said, “I don’t think we need to worry about him working undercover.”

“I worry,” the mayor said. “I live here. I don’t flit in and out like you do.”

“Flit?” Landry said, taking umbrage. “Don’t forget that I represent a line of quality women’s shoes. I have a vast sales territory to cover.”

Bernie snorted. “Shoes.”

“Shoes. Just today, I arm-twisted Hancock into placing his largest order yet. It’s not like I come here to relax and enjoy the quaintness of the boardinghouse.”

Down below, Thatcher Hutton was helping the recent widow with something on the back of her auto. Bernie thoughtfully fingered the chain on his pocket watch. “How’s he act around the other boarders?”

“Polite but not engaging. Keeps his head down. Never offers an opinion unless asked, and then he hedges.”

“What do they say about him?”

“They’re split down the middle. Half think he was the victim of circumstance and wrongly accused. The other half aren’t so sure. But they all agree on one point. No one wants to cross him.”

“Has he made a single friend?”

“No.”

“Does he socialize at all?”

“He’s played cards a couple of times.”

“And won big.”

Landry looked at Bernie with surprise. “How did you know?”

“He told the sheriff he had a knack.” The mayor turned his head and met the bootlegger’s gaze. “A knack for reading people.”

“An enviable talent.”

“A problematic one.” Through the window, Bernie focused again on their subject. “When we startled him awake in the boardinghouse, he came up out of that bed as though he’d been catapulted.”

“It was quite a commotion,” Landry said. “I’m on the second floor. I was afraid the ceiling would collapse.”

“It took five of us to subdue him. And have you heard about the rattler?” Chester hadn’t. Bernie related the story that had been circulating. “He doesn’t get flustered. He fights with ferocity and shoots with awe-inspiring skill.”

“He’s a surprise to you, Bernie. That’s all.”

“I hate surprises. I’m not discounting that he’s more than an ordinary cowboy, which is why I’m going to keep a close eye on Mr. Thatcher Hutton. And, if you’re as smart as I think you are, Chester, you will, too. In fact,” he said, smiling, “the man is in want of a friend.”

A knock on the door forestalled any rejoinder Landry might have made. Bernie consulted his watch and called out, “Bill?” Sheriff Amos opened the door and came in. “Right on time,” Bernie said. “In fact, we were just talking about you.”

“Anything good?”

“You tell us.” Bernie pointed him into a chair and Landry returned to the one he’d been occupying. As Bernie sat down behind his desk, he thumbed over his shoulder and said to Bill, “We were observing Mr. Hutton out there on the street and speculating on his future.”

He picked up the handbill on his desk and pretended to reread it. “As a horse trainer at Barker’s? What happened to going home to the ranch in the Panhandle?”

“He suffered a misfortune.” Bill took off his hat and set it on his crossed knee. “Finds himself adrift. He knows horses and, until something better comes along, he’s got to eat. What were you speculating about?”