Free Come the Spring by Julie Garwood Page A

under?”
    â€œLemont Morganstaff’s,” Ryan answered. “We’re going to talk to him right away. Do you know where he lives?”
    â€œSure I do. I know just about everybody in town. I’ll take you over to Lemont’s as soon as you’re ready. Are you going to ask him about the bag?”
    â€œYes,” Ryan answered.
    Sloan’s mind was whirling with possibilities. “Where exactly was the bag found? Was it right by the chair or was it way under the desk?”
    â€œIt was in the kneehole,” Ryan answered. “In the corner.”
    Sloan’s eyes widened. “You don’t think that maybe someone was hiding under the desk, do you?”
    â€œWe haven’t drawn any conclusions yet,” Cole told him.
    â€œBut it’s possible, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes,” Ryan agreed. “It’s possible. The matter of the bag is confidential, Sheriff. I don’t want you telling anyone about it.”
    Sloan dropped down to his knees. “You can see through here…”
    â€œI want to get started,” Cole said impatiently. “Show us where Lemont lives, and then start rounding up the people on the list. We’ll use the jail to talk to them.”
    â€œI’ll wait out front to take you to Lemont’s,” Sloan said, bolting for the door.
    As soon as Sloan had stepped outside, Cole said, “It was a bad idea to tell him where the bag was found.”
    Ryan shrugged. “He’s a lawman, and he’ll only get in our way if we don’t feed him a little information now and then. What harm can he do?”

Nine

 
    As it turned out, Sloan could do a great deal of harm. Before the day was over, Ryan actually considered locking the sheriff in his own jail. Unfortunately, the law frowned on incarcerating a man just because he was stupid.
    In a town the size of Rockford Falls, everyone knew everyone else’s business, and carefully guarded secrets had a way of leaking out like water through a sieve. The employee who worked at the desk where the purse was found, Lemont Morganstaff, a prissy old-maid of a man, was shown the cloth bag and duly questioned. The interview took place in the claustrophobic parlor of Lemont’s home. Dressed in a bright lime green velvet robe and slippers, Lemont resembled a parrot. He sat in a faded yellow velvet chair, rested his arms on the lace-covered arms, and puckered his lips in thought for several minutes before declaring that the purse couldn’t have been found by his desk. He made it a rule, he explained, never to let any of the customers, man or woman, past the gate.
    However, since he hadn’t been working on the day of the robbery, he couldn’t be certain the other employees had enforced his rule.
    Sheriff Sloan, who had insisted on being part of the interview, blurted out the fact that the purse had been found in the kneehole of Lemont’s desk. “It couldn’t have been kicked there,” he said, “because your desk faces the lobby and that front panel goes all the way to the floor. Someone had to go around, past the gate, and get behind your desk. I’ve had a little time to ponder on it, and I think that maybe there was a woman hiding there during the robbery. I’d wager the marshals think the same thing. Now, there were three women in the bank—their names are on the list Marshal Ryan gave me—and I’m going to go round them up as soon as I’m finished here. I’m hoping the woman who saw the murders is just too timid to come forward, but if she’s deliberately keeping the information to herself because she’s scared, I’m going to have to arrest her.”
    Lemont covered his mouth with his lace handkerchief and looked horrified. “You think a woman saw the murders? Oh, that poor dear,” he whispered.
    Ryan quickly tried to repair the damage Sloan had done, while Cole shoved the sheriff toward the