Sheriff Owen Mott was leaning on his cruiser just outside the school’s front gate.
“I guess you like it here,” he said. He still wore his pants tucked inside his boots. For some reason Steve found this comical, but he kept himself from laughing.
“It’s all right,” Steve said. “A little small for my tastes.”
“But you keep coming back. Is it the food?”
“The Mickey D’s in town is reputed to be one of the best.”
From the look on Mott’s face, Steve knew jokes were not his thing. “What were you doing talking to Joyce?”
“Did the woman in the office call you or something?”
“We have a close-knit community, Mr. Conlon.”
“Conroy.”
“And if some lawyer from LA comes all the way back here to hassle a widow, then — ”
“I wasn’t hassling her.”
“She just lost her husband.”
“I wanted to ask her some questions is all. When she asked me to leave, I did. Go on in and talk to her.”
“I asked you this before, Mr. Conlon. What is the nature of your business here in Verner?”
“And I told you that I’m a lawyer, and that’s all I need to say.
This isn’t Alabama in the thirties, after all.”
Mott didn’t crack a smile. “It could be,” he said. “You’re working with the LaSalles, aren’t you?”
“Sheriff, I don’t have to tell you that.”
“You don’t have to. It was a rhetorical question. You know, the kind you already — ”
“I know what a rhetorical question is.”
“And I know you’re in with the LaSalles. The kid’s on parole, the old man is doing who knows what, and they pretend it’s for the glory of God.”
“Maybe it is. Didn’t Jesus hang out with sinners?”
“Didn’t have much good to say about lawyers, though.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Just the story of Zeke and the draw.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a tombstone in a graveyard somewhere that says, ‘Here lies a man named Zeke, the second fastest draw in Cripple Creek.’ ”
So now he was the funny one. But Steve didn’t even try to force a smile.
“What I mean, Mr. Conlon, is that you’re free to do your business here, but stick to your clients. Don’t try to get cute.”
Steve looked at Mott’s boots and knew this sheriff had been reading a little too much Louis L’Amour.
“I don’t do cute,” Steve said as he got into the Ark. As he drove off he looked in the mirror and saw Mott watching him. Steve gave him a little wave.
Small-town attitude. He couldn’t help feeling this was going to be more of a problem than he’d anticipated. He half thought about heading right out of town, back to LA, calling Johnny later and saying, Thanks but no thanks. The pleasure of meeting your old man will just have to wait, Bro. Good luck with the rest of your life.
But that life was wrapped up in his now. For better or worse, he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away.
He paused at the intersection where a green sign with white letters indicated the Verner Pass Highway. The road pointed up into the mountains.
The LaSalle compound was up there. What had Johnny called it? Beth-El. Whatever that meant.
Steve made the turn.