think Vern wanted to worry her," Lord said.
"Did you ever tell her how you feel? That it was murder?"
"Yes. I thought she ought to know."
"What’d she think?" Digger asked.
"She said I was crazy."
"She would recognize the symptoms," Digger said. "Did you tell the police?"
"You can’t tell them anything," Cody Lord said. "They had accidental death written in their book before they even got to the cabin."
"Let me ask you something else," Digger said. "When you told Mrs. Gillette about your suspicions, could Ardath have overheard you?"
"I don’t know. She was in the house, I guess. She might have."
Digger said, "Lord, if I were to do something, what would you want me to do?"
"I don’t know. I thought, well, you being a detective, maybe you could find out what really happened to Vern."
"Sorry, pal. I just don’t see anything yet to find out."
"Sorry to have wasted your time," Lord said stiffly. He got up from the bench.
"I’m at Gus’s LaGrande Inn," Digger said. "Anytime you feel like telling me the whole truth, you can reach me there."
The thin sandy-haired man looked at Digger for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not. Instead, he just nodded and walked toward the door. Digger noticed that he had not taken even a sip from his beer.
Dolly approached the table.
"Would you like another drink?" She hesitated a moment, then added, "Clem. Traveling does make a soul thirsty."
"Come on," Digger said. "You know my name’s not Clem. You read my card. And I know your IQ is higher than your bust size, so you can get off the Mammy Yokum routine and save it for the locals."
"Fair enough," she said. "It gets to be a pain in the ass after a while anyway," she said.
"Can you sit down and join me for a drink?"
"Afraid not. Eddie doesn’t like it if I drink with customers during working hours. They might get the wrong idea."
"How about not during working hours?"
"Eddie employs me. He doesn’t own me," she said.
"Anybody own you?"
"A lot of people, but it’s too complicated to tell you about now. Maybe sometime when we’ve got more time."
"Well, if your path ever takes you to the bar in Gus’s LaGrande Inn, you’ll find me there."
"I’ll keep it in mind. What are you in town for?"
"Insurance on a guy named Gillette," Digger said. "Your name’s not really Dolly, is it?"
"Sorry, that part’s authentic. It’s Dolly," she said.
"Well," Digger said and smiled at her, "hello, Dolly."
"Hi, Koko."
"Oh, hello, Digger. How goes the insurance business in Belton?"
"Stupid," he said. "I’m trying to convince some woman to take an extra half a million dollars of our company money. He died in an accident. She thinks he had a heart attack. His daughter thinks he was murdered. It’s all very strange. How is it with you?"
"I’m not sure yet."
"What’s wrong?" Digger asked.
"My sister needs a couple more tests. We won’t know for a while about that operation."
"I should be there with you in your moment of need."
"No, Digger, not now."
"Why not?"
"It’s my mother. She doesn’t deal with pressure all that well and she’s a wreck. I’ve got to nursemaid her every minute."
"I’ll come out there and hold her hand," Digger said.
"The last time you got together with her in Las Vegas, you got her all liquored up, and you know she’s like me, she can’t drink. Then you bought her three cameras so she’d look like all the other Japanese in Las Vegas. I’ve never forgiven you for that."
"I won’t do it this time. She’s already got her three cameras out of me."
"No, Dig. We should know something soon. Tell me about your day."
"Terrific. I met a lunatic, and a genius, and a guy who’d have to take a poll to decide if it was raining out, and a Dolly Parton look-alike."
"Knowing you, any one of those four things could keep you busy for another day anyway," Koko said.
"I don’t want to be busy with one of those things. I want to be busy with you. I thought we’d have a
"Did you ever tell her how you feel? That it was murder?"
"Yes. I thought she ought to know."
"What’d she think?" Digger asked.
"She said I was crazy."
"She would recognize the symptoms," Digger said. "Did you tell the police?"
"You can’t tell them anything," Cody Lord said. "They had accidental death written in their book before they even got to the cabin."
"Let me ask you something else," Digger said. "When you told Mrs. Gillette about your suspicions, could Ardath have overheard you?"
"I don’t know. She was in the house, I guess. She might have."
Digger said, "Lord, if I were to do something, what would you want me to do?"
"I don’t know. I thought, well, you being a detective, maybe you could find out what really happened to Vern."
"Sorry, pal. I just don’t see anything yet to find out."
"Sorry to have wasted your time," Lord said stiffly. He got up from the bench.
"I’m at Gus’s LaGrande Inn," Digger said. "Anytime you feel like telling me the whole truth, you can reach me there."
The thin sandy-haired man looked at Digger for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not. Instead, he just nodded and walked toward the door. Digger noticed that he had not taken even a sip from his beer.
Dolly approached the table.
"Would you like another drink?" She hesitated a moment, then added, "Clem. Traveling does make a soul thirsty."
"Come on," Digger said. "You know my name’s not Clem. You read my card. And I know your IQ is higher than your bust size, so you can get off the Mammy Yokum routine and save it for the locals."
"Fair enough," she said. "It gets to be a pain in the ass after a while anyway," she said.
"Can you sit down and join me for a drink?"
"Afraid not. Eddie doesn’t like it if I drink with customers during working hours. They might get the wrong idea."
"How about not during working hours?"
"Eddie employs me. He doesn’t own me," she said.
"Anybody own you?"
"A lot of people, but it’s too complicated to tell you about now. Maybe sometime when we’ve got more time."
"Well, if your path ever takes you to the bar in Gus’s LaGrande Inn, you’ll find me there."
"I’ll keep it in mind. What are you in town for?"
"Insurance on a guy named Gillette," Digger said. "Your name’s not really Dolly, is it?"
"Sorry, that part’s authentic. It’s Dolly," she said.
"Well," Digger said and smiled at her, "hello, Dolly."
"Hi, Koko."
"Oh, hello, Digger. How goes the insurance business in Belton?"
"Stupid," he said. "I’m trying to convince some woman to take an extra half a million dollars of our company money. He died in an accident. She thinks he had a heart attack. His daughter thinks he was murdered. It’s all very strange. How is it with you?"
"I’m not sure yet."
"What’s wrong?" Digger asked.
"My sister needs a couple more tests. We won’t know for a while about that operation."
"I should be there with you in your moment of need."
"No, Digger, not now."
"Why not?"
"It’s my mother. She doesn’t deal with pressure all that well and she’s a wreck. I’ve got to nursemaid her every minute."
"I’ll come out there and hold her hand," Digger said.
"The last time you got together with her in Las Vegas, you got her all liquored up, and you know she’s like me, she can’t drink. Then you bought her three cameras so she’d look like all the other Japanese in Las Vegas. I’ve never forgiven you for that."
"I won’t do it this time. She’s already got her three cameras out of me."
"No, Dig. We should know something soon. Tell me about your day."
"Terrific. I met a lunatic, and a genius, and a guy who’d have to take a poll to decide if it was raining out, and a Dolly Parton look-alike."
"Knowing you, any one of those four things could keep you busy for another day anyway," Koko said.
"I don’t want to be busy with one of those things. I want to be busy with you. I thought we’d have a
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