Free Come the Spring by Julie Garwood Page B

front door.
    â€œWe don’t believe any such thing,” he said. “The purse could have gotten under the desk a hundred different ways. There could have been a lot of women inside the bank, and any one of them could have sat at your desk and accidentally dropped it.”
    Lemont wasn’t paying very much attention to the marshal’s explanation. “It had to have been left on the day of the robbery,” he said excitedly. “The bank’s cleaned every night by the Stewarts, and they always do a thorough job. Still, you’re right. A woman could have left the bag sometime during the morning hours.If you look in the tellers’ drawers, you’ll find a record of every customer who did any business that day.”
    Sloan elbowed his way back over to Lemont. “I got a feeling the three women on my list were there in the afternoon. I got their names right here. There was Jessica Summers, Grace Winthrop, and Rebecca James. Do you know any of these, Lemont?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact I do. I know Rebecca James. I saw her just last night, but she was feeling very poorly, and I fear she’s caught the influenza. I sent her home, of course.
    â€œI met the dear woman last week,” he continued. “She stopped by to tell me how glorious she thought my garden was. She appreciates beauty,” he added. “I don’t know the other two women, but then I keep to myself. By the time I get home from the bank, there are only two hours left before dark, and I spend every minute of it tending my flowers.”
    â€œNone of the women on the list have lived in Rockford Falls long,” Sloan said. “Are you sure you’ve never met Jessica Summers or Grace Winthrop?”
    â€œI might have, but if I did, neither one of them made much of an impression.”
    Cole grabbed hold of Sloan’s arm and pushed him out the doorway. Ryan kept his attention on Lemont.
    â€œThe sheriff spoke out of turn,” he began. “His conclusions aren’t based on fact.”
    â€œPerhaps a stranger left the pocketbook behind,” Lemont said. “There are so many of them in town this time of year. They come to see the falls and trample all over the glorious flowers growing wild on the hills outside of town. Some of the men and women are quite audacious, Marshal. Why, just two weeks ago one of them vandalized my garden and picked all of my tulips. I’ve asked and asked Sheriff Sloan to do something about it, but now that you’re here, perhaps you can apprehend the culprits. I’ll press charges,” headded. “I don’t care if it was the work of a child or not. The hooligans belong in jail.”
    Cole returned to the parlor in time to hear Lemont’s remarks. “It seems you’re more concerned about your garden than—”
    Lemont interrupted him. “Than the people who died in the bank? You’re right, Marshal, I am. Flowers, you see, are more precious to me. They serve only one purpose. To be pretty, and I like pretty things.”
    â€œLet’s go,” Cole told Ryan. “We’ve taken enough of Lemont’s time.”
    The two men headed for the door. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve told anyone about our talk,” Ryan ordered, “or you’ll end up in jail.”
    Lemont immediately gave his word to keep quiet. He found it impossible to keep his promise, however. He received a visitor an hour later and simply had to relate every word of the conversation he’d had with the marshals. He also told his housekeeper, Ernestine Hopper, who just happened to have a mouth the size of the stuffed bass mounted on the sheriff’s office wall. A rather dull-witted woman, she also led a rather dull life, and news such as this couldn’t be kept to herself. She told everyone she knew that there was a possibility of a witness to the murders, and after retelling the story four or five times, she