marital status, and suddenly Sayre realized the reason for his displeasure.
“No children.”
Huff swiveled his head like an owl, switching his baleful gaze from Chris to her. “Not yet. But it’s not over.”
Chris’s strained expression turned into a smile as he glanced beyond her. “Come on in, Beck.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.” He spoke from behind Sayre, near the door. She didn’t turn around.
“Please do,” Chris said. “I welcome the reprieve. This family is yet to have a gathering that would leave any of us with a warm fuzzy.”
Sayre heard Beck approach. He rounded the end of the sofa and said, “Red’s here, Huff.”
“He left an hour ago.”
“He’s back, and this time it’s in an official capacity. Wayne Scott is with him. They want to talk to us.”
“What about?”
Beck looked at him, and his frown said, What do you think?
“How long will it take?” Chris asked. “I’m tired of the funeral atmosphere and hoped to go out for a while.”
Sayre was dismayed by his self-absorption, although she shouldn’t have been. He had always thought about Chris first. He was interested in something only insofar as it affected him, his plans, his wishes. His selfishness, which had been honed by Huff’s indulgence of him, knew no bounds, extending even to the day he had buried his brother.
Unable to bear his company any longer, she stood up. “I’ll go now and leave you to your meeting with Red.” Looking at Huff, she said, “Danny was unarguably the best of us. I deeply regret the loss.”
Looking down at her surviving brother, she said, “Chris…” Beyond that, she could think of nothing to say to him that wouldn’t have been hypocritical. “Good-bye.” She turned toward Beck Merchant. For him she had only a curt nod.
But as she tried to go around him, he touched her arm. “Red would like for you to stay.”
Before Sayre could recover from her surprise enough to speak, Chris asked, “Why her?”
“He didn’t say.”
“He must have said something,” she argued.
Beck looked down at her with asperity. “He said just what I told you. He’d like for you to stick around. Should I show them in, Huff?”
“This is a damn bother. Like Chris, I’ve had it up to here with thinking and talking about death. I’m sick of it. But we’d just as well get this over. Bring them in, Beck.”
Sayre had no intention of staying and would tell Red Harper as much. Beck disappeared only long enough to escort the veteran sheriff and a younger man into the room.
She went on the offensive immediately. “Sheriff Harper, I’m trying to make a late flight out of New Orleans. I’m already pressed for time.”
Red Harper was still wearing the shiny black suit he’d worn to the funeral. The deputy with him was in standard uniform, although he had removed his hat. He was looking about, taking in the details of the room, as bouncy as a racehorse in the starting gate, appearing as eager as Beck Merchant had described him.
The sheriff said, “I hate to hold you up, Sayre, but Deputy Scott here wanted to ask y’all some questions.”
“I appreciate your thoroughness,” she said, speaking directly to the younger officer. “I admire your sense of duty. But I don’t have any information for you. I don’t live here and hadn’t had any contact with Danny for more than a decade.”
“Yes, ma’am, but you might know more than you think.” His twang sounded more Texan than Louisianan. “You mind staying just awhile? This will be short, I promise.”
Reluctantly she returned to her place on the sofa.
“Beck, pull two chairs away from the game table for the lawmen,” Huff directed from the comfort of his recliner. “You can sit there by Sayre.”
The sheriff and his deputy sat in the chairs Beck dragged forward for them. Beck sat down next to Sayre. She glanced at Huff and saw a familiar gleam of devilment in his eyes as he fanned out another match and dropped it into an
“No children.”
Huff swiveled his head like an owl, switching his baleful gaze from Chris to her. “Not yet. But it’s not over.”
Chris’s strained expression turned into a smile as he glanced beyond her. “Come on in, Beck.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.” He spoke from behind Sayre, near the door. She didn’t turn around.
“Please do,” Chris said. “I welcome the reprieve. This family is yet to have a gathering that would leave any of us with a warm fuzzy.”
Sayre heard Beck approach. He rounded the end of the sofa and said, “Red’s here, Huff.”
“He left an hour ago.”
“He’s back, and this time it’s in an official capacity. Wayne Scott is with him. They want to talk to us.”
“What about?”
Beck looked at him, and his frown said, What do you think?
“How long will it take?” Chris asked. “I’m tired of the funeral atmosphere and hoped to go out for a while.”
Sayre was dismayed by his self-absorption, although she shouldn’t have been. He had always thought about Chris first. He was interested in something only insofar as it affected him, his plans, his wishes. His selfishness, which had been honed by Huff’s indulgence of him, knew no bounds, extending even to the day he had buried his brother.
Unable to bear his company any longer, she stood up. “I’ll go now and leave you to your meeting with Red.” Looking at Huff, she said, “Danny was unarguably the best of us. I deeply regret the loss.”
Looking down at her surviving brother, she said, “Chris…” Beyond that, she could think of nothing to say to him that wouldn’t have been hypocritical. “Good-bye.” She turned toward Beck Merchant. For him she had only a curt nod.
But as she tried to go around him, he touched her arm. “Red would like for you to stay.”
Before Sayre could recover from her surprise enough to speak, Chris asked, “Why her?”
“He didn’t say.”
“He must have said something,” she argued.
Beck looked down at her with asperity. “He said just what I told you. He’d like for you to stick around. Should I show them in, Huff?”
“This is a damn bother. Like Chris, I’ve had it up to here with thinking and talking about death. I’m sick of it. But we’d just as well get this over. Bring them in, Beck.”
Sayre had no intention of staying and would tell Red Harper as much. Beck disappeared only long enough to escort the veteran sheriff and a younger man into the room.
She went on the offensive immediately. “Sheriff Harper, I’m trying to make a late flight out of New Orleans. I’m already pressed for time.”
Red Harper was still wearing the shiny black suit he’d worn to the funeral. The deputy with him was in standard uniform, although he had removed his hat. He was looking about, taking in the details of the room, as bouncy as a racehorse in the starting gate, appearing as eager as Beck Merchant had described him.
The sheriff said, “I hate to hold you up, Sayre, but Deputy Scott here wanted to ask y’all some questions.”
“I appreciate your thoroughness,” she said, speaking directly to the younger officer. “I admire your sense of duty. But I don’t have any information for you. I don’t live here and hadn’t had any contact with Danny for more than a decade.”
“Yes, ma’am, but you might know more than you think.” His twang sounded more Texan than Louisianan. “You mind staying just awhile? This will be short, I promise.”
Reluctantly she returned to her place on the sofa.
“Beck, pull two chairs away from the game table for the lawmen,” Huff directed from the comfort of his recliner. “You can sit there by Sayre.”
The sheriff and his deputy sat in the chairs Beck dragged forward for them. Beck sat down next to Sayre. She glanced at Huff and saw a familiar gleam of devilment in his eyes as he fanned out another match and dropped it into an
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