Free The Lady Doctor's Alibi by J. Roberts Page B

back at Sheriff Brown.
    “He is not a lawman. Besides, I already spoke with him as well.”
    “He’s got some new questions.”
    She glared at the lawman, then turned, looked at Clint, and folded her arms.
    “You know a man named Rufus Holmes?”
    If he expected her to be shocked, he was disappointed.
    “Rufus? Is that what this is about?”
    “So you do know him?”
    “Of course,” she said. “He fucks me, brutalizes me in a way my husband could never have imagined. And I love it. Anything else?”
    Clint looked at Sheriff Brown, who was red-faced and shocked.
    “You’re not going to shock me, Mrs. Graham, so stop trying,” Clint said. “You’re only scandalizing the sheriff.”
    Now it was Brown giving him a dirty look, not Lillian Graham.
    “You think I had Rufus kill my husband,” she said.
    “The thought had crossed my mind.”
    “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if Rufus did it,” she said, “but if he did, I didn’t know anything about it. So I guess that means you’re going to have to talk to him.”
    “I plan to,” Clint said.
    “So do I,” Brown said, recovered now. “Mrs. Graham, I want you to stay away from your husband’s practice while Dr. Sugarman is there.”
    “What?” She whirled on the lawman. “I own that building—”
    “Not until after you husband’s will is read,” Clint said. “I assume he had a will?”
    “Well, yes—”
    “And usually the will is read after the funeral,” Clint said. “When is the funeral?”
    “I—I don’t know,” she said. “His body is still at the undertaker’s.” She turned to Brown. “When can I bury him?”
    “Not until I find out who killed him.”
    “What?” she asked again.
    “And since his will won’t be read until after,” Clint said, “I guess you don’t own that building yet—if, indeed, he even left it to you.”
    “You can’t do this!” she said.
    “I’m doin’ it,” Brown said. “Those people need to be treated, and Dr. Sugarman is the only doctor in town.”
    “That’s my building!” she shouted.
    “Ma’am,” Sheriff Brown said, “if I catch you in that building again, or anywhere near Dr. Sugarman or the nurse, Marietta, I’ll toss you in a cell.”
    “You can’t do that,” she said. “I won’t stand for it.”
    “That’s right, you won’t stand for it,” Brown said. “You’ll sit for it, in a cell. Mrs. Graham, go home and stay there.”
    “Wha—”
    “I’d do as he says, before he puts you in a cell now,” Clint advised.
    He took her by the elbow, escorted her to the door, opened it, deposited her outside, and then closed it. Then he looked over at the sheriff, who had seated himself behind his desk.
    “Think that’ll do it?” the sheriff asked.
    Clint walked back to the desk.
    “It should,” Clint said. “If that doesn’t drive her to Rufus, nothing will.”
    “And you think she’ll have Rufus kill someone else?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes.”
    “Who?”
    “Well,” Clint said, “you, me, Lissa, Marietta, one of us.”
    “That’s the best you can do?”
    “Sorry.”
    “Great.”

TWENTY-FIVE
    “Why would a woman want to be brutalized by a man?”
    Clint turned his head and looked at Deputy Boone. He’d found Boone in his favorite saloon and the deputy offered to buy him a beer. While they drank, Clint told Boone about the meeting with Lillian Graham in the sheriff’s office.
    “Apparently,” Clint said, “it’s because her husband would never do it.”
    “Yeah, but . . . he was her husband. Maybe he didn’t want to—although from everything I’ve heard, she sure deserved a smack or two.”
    Clint studied Boone.
    “Deputy, are you . . . easily shocked?”
    “At my age?” Boone asked. “Why do you ask?”
    “Because Lillian managed to make the sheriff blush with her comments.”
    “She did?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, the sheriff is kind of a prude about women.”
    Clint stared at Boone.
    “What? Isn’t that the word? Prude?”
    “At his