Free Rollover by Susan Slater Page B

But—”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œI have no right…no right to endanger your life.”
    â€œThe decision is mine. We’re adults—adults who love each other. I won’t leave you. Besides, I kind of like whodunits. Solving them, that is.”
    Then she was in his arms, breakfast forgotten, and that seemed to end it. Whether he liked it or not, for better or whatever, they were together in this—and he didn’t even know what “this” was. He picked her up and carried her the three feet to the bed giving up trying to unbutton any buttons with his left hand. She pulled the Henley over her head, shed panties and bra, and pushed him back on the bed to help him wiggle out of his shorts.
    â€œHey, our friend is back.”
    â€œYeah, I noticed.” And Dan couldn’t keep the lopsided grin from spreading ear to ear. “Any ideas about what we should do with him?”
    â€œI think I can come up with a couple.”

Chapter Six
    Dan was able to schedule a meeting with First Community Bank’s president for one o’clock Monday afternoon. It seemed the bank stayed open until three on weekdays and until noon on Saturdays. Bankers’ hours. He hadn’t run into those in years, and he’d bet there wasn’t an ATM…maybe not even a night deposit and definitely not a drive-through. Yeah, Wagon Mound wasn’t exactly on the electronic radar. This was going to be a step back in time…as if meeting Gertie hadn’t been one already.
    Elaine dropped him off and went back to the boardinghouse to do laundry. He needed to get his own car back and do his own driving—he was sure the chauffeuring was getting old. He had no idea how long the interview would take but he’d need to see the area, take pictures, interview help…it’d been a month, he could only imagine how tired everyone must be of being questioned. And probably very tired of the town gossip—everyone having a theory about whodunit and why…he was sure Chet hadn’t been the only one with an opinion.
    He’d barely had time to admire the hundred-year-old chandelier in the foyer when a woman who introduced herself as Alice ushered him into an office lacking any customer-friendly touches. No overstuffed leather couches or chairs; no warm carpets or green plants. Some theme of Quaker austerity was being carried out in all wood mission-style benches, tables, and even the desk—the only grandiose piece of furniture in the room. Huge, chunky, slatted wood along the sides—and complemented by an ergonomically correct Aeron chair. That had set someone back a thousand or so but good to know the bank prez cared about his posture.
    Inventory of the room was interrupted by Alice sticking her head in the door to say that Mr. Woods would be with him in a moment. The moment stretched to five but who was counting? This was a starred interview in his notebook. Not that he expected any breakthrough information, but it might tie up some loose ends.
    The first thing that struck Dan when L. Maurice Woods—who quickly pointed out that he preferred to be called Lawrence—finally strode into the room was how young he looked for being stuck in a one-horse town. And how underdressed the man made him feel. Red-and-blue striped power tie, white shirt, navy suit, black shoes polished to within an inch of their life…and a hanky. All this on a lanky frame that screamed basketball for the local high school and not that long ago—certainly within twenty years or so.
    But he was stuffy beyond his years and overly into his position—could bank president be that big a deal in the town? Probably. Dan decided later that it was the hanky folded to two-point perfection just peeking out of the pocket that screamed affectation. But then the dress code seemed to spill over to the general workers—the tellers wore nylons, the janitor wore a bow tie, and the guard on duty had