• Chapter 22 •

If Mac and his friends had any idea of Roseanna’s plan, they’d have good reason to worry. But just the fact that she’s here living in Duncan is enough to raise Pete’s suspicions.

They troop down Mac’s basement stairs for their regular Monday morning game of pool. Nick racks the balls, and Sid breaks. Mac never tires of hearing the clack on the strike of the cue ball exploding the triangle of numbered balls in all directions. Abner circles the table, cue in one hand shaking, his other hand shaking in his pocket for his pea, checking yet another time for its number, shaking it back into his pocket, and then eyeballing the table to locate his numbered ball. He steadies all he can to aim his cue. For all the Mondays over the years, as many times as his cue has lurched forward beyond his control, he’s never ripped the cloth.

“Out for a picnic yesterday?” Pete asks Mac.

“You keeping track?”

“Somebody has to. I don’t like it, Mac.”

“That buffalo skull Mac bought at the sale,” Abner says. “They took it out and buried it.”

“Keep your nose on your cue ball,” Mac says.

“Just what are they up to?” Pete says. “You know as well as I do how a young trick like that can take advantage of a man. And what’s the old lady hanging around town for?”

Abner shoots, his cue just glancing off the side of the cue ball and gouging into the cloth.

“Not enough chalk on the tip,” he says. “Or else your chalk is no good. A little glue should fix up that bit of a rip.”

“If you’d keep your nose glued to your own business,” Mac says.

“I don’t like it,” Pete says. “They’ve got lawyers dragging up all kinds of bogus charges, and there’s no limit to how far back they go.”

“Statute of limitations,” Jeepers says.

“Now this Smythe-Crothers dame. She gets wind of it, we’re in trouble. Real trouble.”

“Remember,” Sid says, “We don’t know what happened. The court record will prove that if the story ever does happen to surface. It was dark and everybody was drunk. Everybody clubbing everybody else.”

“The game,” Mac says. “It’s your shot, Pete. We are down here to play pool, not hold court. No one’s going to jail.”

“Not me,” Jeepers says.

“Look,” Mac says. “There has been no mention of anything.”

“Just what were you doing with her down there?” Pete asks.

“Like Abner said, burying a buffalo skull.”

“Sounds like a fun time,” Nick says.

“I still don’t like it,” Pete says. “This morning I saw the old lady heading out of town with her son, the guy who’s trying to negotiate land deals.”

“I don’t know,” Sid says. “He seems decent enough.”

“I didn’t club anybody,” Jeepers says. “I didn’t even pick up a fence post.”