“Don’t you ever give up?” he asked through bared teeth.
“Never. Did you return to the ranch that night?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“No.”
“Not even to sleep?”
“I told you, I had a date.” He put his f
ace close enough to hers that she could feel his breath against her lips. “And she was hot.”
He gave a terse bob of his head to emphasize his point, then turned to leave. “I’m due in court. Close the door on your way out, will ya?”
Chapter 18
“Miss Gaither?”
“Yes?”
Alex didn’t feel like having company. Her latest altercation with Reede had left her drained. After last night, her nerves were shot. Neither Reede’s glib explanation of the Hickam man’s murder or any amount of her own sound reasoning had convinced her that she wasn’t in danger.
So, when someone knocked on her motel room door, she had approached it cautiously and looked through the peephole. A strange, but evidently harmless couple, were on her threshold. She opened the door and looked at them expectantly.
Suddenly, the man stuck out his hand. Startled, Alex jumped back. “Reverend Fergus Plummet.” Feeling foolish, Alex shook hands with him. “Did I frighten you? I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
The reverend’s mannerisms were so deferential, his tone of voice so sympathetic, he hardly posed a threat. He had a slight build and was shorter than average, but held himself erect with almost military posture. His black suit was shiny in spots and inadequate for the season. He wore no overcoat and nothing to cover his wavy dark hair, which was fuller than current fashion dictated. In a community where almost every male from the age of twelve wore either a cowboy hat or bill cap, it looked odd to see a man without one.
“This is my wife, Wanda.”
“Hello, Mrs. Plummet, Reverend.”
Mrs. Plummet was a large woman, with a notable bosom that she’d tried to minimize by covering it with a drab olive cardigan sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a knot on the back of her head, which she kept meekly lowered. Her husband had referred to her with no more personal regard than he might give a lamppost.
“How’d you know my name?” Alex asked, curious about the couple.
“Everybody does,” he replied with a brief smile. “There’s talk going around town about you.”
The minister had a Bible tucked under one arm. Alex couldn’t imagine what a minister was doing at her door—recruiting new members?
“I guess you’re wondering why I’m here,” he said, correctly reading her puzzled expression.
“Frankly, yes. Would you like to come in?”
They stepped into the room. Mrs. Plummet seemed ill at ease and unsure where to sit until her husband pointed her to a corner of the bed. He took the only chair. Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, but far enough away from Mrs. Plummet for both of them to be comfortable.
The preacher gazed about him. He seemed to be in no hurry to disclose the reason he was there. Finally, and with a trace of impatience, Alex asked, “Is there something I can do for you, Reverend Plummet?”
Closing his eyes, he raised his hand heavenward and evoked a blessing. “May heaven’s rich blessings pour down on this beloved daughter of God,” he intoned in a deep, vibrating voice.
He began to pray with loud earnestness. Alex had the wildest impulse to giggle. Merle Graham had seen to it that she was raised with traditional Protestant beliefs. They had attended church regularly. Though she had never embraced the fundamentalist dogma her grandmother adhered to, Alex’s Christian faith was well cemented.
“Please, Reverend Plummet,” she interrupted when his prayer extended into overtime, “I’ve had a very long day. Could we get to the point of your visit, please?”
He looked rather piqued over her interruption, but said with a mysterious air, “I can assist you with your investigation of Minton Enterprises.”