Bond With Death by Bill Crider Page B

relationship between them as surely as if Jorge had been an unrepentant serial killer. The sad truth was that he was allergic to cats.
    â€œOf course, I don’t have a cat,” Mae had told Sally that day in the faculty lounge, without quite implying that cats were filthy, diseased, and most likely covered with fleas. “I know that you do, though, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Many lonely people find them to be a comfort.”
    If it had come down to a decision between Lola and Jorge, Sally wasn’t in any doubt about which one she would have chosen, so she wrote off her brief infatuation with Jorge to temporary insanity. And she wrote off Mae’s remarks as a result of the same thing.
    Sally scooted into the booth across from Vera and Jack, and after they’d ordered their drinks, she asked what they wanted to talk to her about.
    Jack looked over his shoulder to see if the server was nearby. She wasn’t, but Jack said, “Wait until we have our margaritas.”
    The drinks arrived served in frosted mugs rimmed with salt. Sally’s was frozen, with peach flavoring. Jack and Vera had ordered the “gold” version. Everybody had a taste and nodded with satisfaction.
    Along with the drinks, the server had brought a bowl of tortilla chips and two small bowls of salsa, one red, one green. Sally preferred the red, which had little bits of cilantro in it. Sally knew there were people who didn’t like cilantro, but she wasn’t one of them. She took a chip and dipped out some of the salsa. It wasn’t fiery hot, but it would do.
    â€œAll right,” Sally said when she’d eaten the chip. “Now tell me what all the mystery is.”
    Jack looked around again. They were seated at the end of the last row of booths, as far from the entrance as they could get. The closest people were Jorge and Mae, who saw Jack looking in her direction
and waved. Jack didn’t wave back, but Sally did. She wasn’t going to let Mae think she was jealous, because she wasn’t.
    Jack turned back and looked at Vera, who nodded as if giving him permission, which Sally thought might be exactly the case. Vera wasn’t one to let anybody else be in charge.
    Jack took a sip of his drink and said, “I had a visit from my friend Weems today. I guess you did, too.”
    â€œYes,” Sally said, “and things went downhill after that.”
    She told them about her little chat with Fieldstone and Roy Don Talon.
    â€œRoy Don should be locked up in one of the prison units at Sugar Land by now,” Vera said. “Not serving on the college board.”
    â€œThey could never prove he had anything to do with the hot car ring,” Jack said. “Too bad, if you ask me.”
    â€œDid Fieldstone support you against Roy Don?” Vera asked.
    â€œNot exactly,” Sally said. “And he’s set up a meeting tomorrow with Jennifer Jackson.”
    â€œMothers Against Witchcraft,” Vera said.
    â€œThat’s not all,” Jack said. “She and her husband are the leaders of the opposition to the bond issue.”
    â€œFieldstone didn’t mention that,” Sally said.
    â€œHe might not know it.”
    â€œHe knows a lot about what’s going on around town,” Sally said. “Especially if it involves the college. That’s probably why he agreed to the meeting without asking me. He can’t afford to offend any of the opposition and give them something to use against him. I’m sure Fieldstone knew, but I didn’t think you were plugged into the community like he is.”
    Jack didn’t say anything in response to that.
    â€œI didn’t see any need for a meeting,” Sally went on. “I don’t know what I can say that I haven’t already said. But it makes more sense now.
    â€œThe purpose of a witch hunt,” Vera told her, “is to make people afraid. Jennifer Jackson is the kind of person who