Irv peered up at her through his lowered brows. “I wasn’t referring to Landry.”

* * *

Bernie Croft had eaten a late breakfast at Martin’s Café. Rather than ride to his office, he’d chosen to walk the short distance and was almost there when a deranged individual lunged at him from out of a narrow alleyway.

He was grabbed roughly by the lapel of his suit coat, jerked into the space between the two buildings, and forcefully pushed against a brick wall. Hands closed around his neck and began to choke him.

Dr. Gabe Driscoll was barely recognizable. His eyes were bloodshot. His bared and clenched teeth looked feral. But his fingers were like steel clamps around Bernie’s throat. “I’m going to kill you.”

Bernie gasped, “Jesus Christ, Gabe.” He planted his hands on the physician’s chest and pushed with all his might.

Obviously in a weakened state, Gabe wasn’t that hard to dislodge. He reeled backward and landed against the opposite brick wall, his shoulder catching the brunt of the impact. He clapped his hand over his rotator cuff and yelped in pain.

Hennessy came bounding in from the end of the alley. Bernie held up a hand. The bodyguard skidded to a halt. “I’m all right,” Bernie said. “But don’t let anybody wander in here.”

Hennessy looked at Driscoll with misgiving. Bernie patted the air. “It’s fine, Jimmy.” Hennessy backed out of the alley and posted himself at the entrance to it.

Bernie returned his attention to Gabe, whose ferocity had evaporated. He was slumped against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Bernie hissed. “It’s ten-thirty in the morning, and you’re pissing drunk!”

“Why did you tell?”

“Tell what?”

Gabe glared at him with maddened eyes. “You want me to yell it out loud? You want me to shout it out so everybody will know about Pointer’s Gap?” Unmindful of Hennessy, he stumbled toward the street.

Bernie reached out, clutched a handful of his jacket, and yanked him back. Despite his rancid body odor and days-old breath, Bernie held him by the lapels and got right in his face, speaking softly, but with emphasis. “Nobody knows.”

“You promised me that no one would, but you told Norma Blanchard. Why? Why?”

Bernie instantly released him and took a step back. He felt like his head might explode. Every blood vessel in his body began to throb with wrath. But he clenched his teeth in order to keep his features rigid and his expression impassive. He tugged on the hem of his vest, shot his cuffs, assumed his customary intimidating, confident posture, and said blandly, “Insurance.”

Gabe blinked several times. “How did you even know about her and my…our…”

“Your grubby, adulterous affair? I make it my business to know who’s fucking whom. It comes in handy on occasions just such as this, Dr. Driscoll. I’ve got you by the balls, you see. You killed your wife in order to take up with your mistress and bastard child.”

Gabe flinched and gulped back a sob. “I came to you that night for help.”

“You came to me panicked, beyond any hope of getting yourself out of a nasty fix without my assistance. You were out of your mind with desperation and fear, and I responded immediately.”

“We made a vow.”

“Yes, we did. We made a vow to help each other. Quid pro quo. I held up my end of our bargain in a matter of hours. You, by contrast…” He sniffed with disdain. “Look at you. You’re a wreck, a disgrace.”

Gabe wiped his dripping nose with the back of his hand. “You swore to me that no one would ever know.”

“But did you think that a man in my position would volunteer to get rid of your problem without holding some collateral? Did you think that, Gabe? Did you really? Are you that naïve? That dim?”

The man’s shoulders sagged. His head dropped forward as though the pin of a hinge holding it onto his neck had been pulled.

Bernie let him suffer in humiliation and silence for several moments, then said, “I assume Miss Blanchard is using this information for leverage of her own?”

“She’s come to the house twice,” Gabe mumbled. “Once in the middle of the night. I lectured her on how foolhardy that was, but she came back. In daytime, no less. She even brought the baby. She wants us to be together.”

Bernie made a sound of regret and sighed. “Typical female behavior. She’s wanting to nest.”

“It’s too soon. People would become suspicious.”

“Rightfully,” Bernie said. “You must drill that home to Miss Blanchard. Or would you rather I speak with her on your behalf?”

Gabe raised his head and looked at Bernie with bleary eyes. “No, I’ll do it.”

Bernie gave Gabe’s arm a fatherly squeeze of support. “I suggest that before you go calling on your ladylove, you get sober, take a bath, and shave. Get a haircut. Buy Miss Blanchard something nice. Take the baby a play-pretty.”

Gabe nodded assent, but Bernie could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.

With vexation, he said, “I gave you two weeks to sort yourself out, Gabe. Instead you’ve lost ground, and your time is up. You start tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Hang out your shingle. Resume making house calls. Dispense pills, set broken bones, administer enemas. And, as agreed, begin your work for me.”

“Smuggling bootlegged liquor on my rounds.”

Bernie tugged on his lower lip. “Actually, since our last conversation, I’ve determined that any able-bodied person with half a brain can do that. I have plenty of them already on my payroll. You would be a wasted asset doing manual labor.

“No, what I have in mind for you now, Gabe, is something more complex, more suited to an austere and respected man who has a knowledge of science and the healing arts.”

Befuddled, Gabe said, “What are you talking about, Bernie?”

“Poison.”

Forty

Thatcher was working late. The sun had already set, making it dark enough in the stable to require a lantern. He moved it from stall to stall as he replenished water and feed for each of his charges.

The mare who had caused him to work overtime snuffled and tossed her head when he entered her stall. She had a bad reputation for kicking, so he waited for her to settle before closing himself in with her.