Page 115 of Death on Gallows Path

I followed, but asked, “Where? Who was on the phone? What did they say?”

She didn’t answer until we were in the van, headed away from my house.

“William and Blanche Alsup are arguing in a parking lot. A friend of ours saw them and thought we’d be interested in trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“Which friend? Linda? Carol? One of the other ladies?”

“Nope. It’s one of those Baader-Meinhof moments. Before we brought the Alsups to the front of their mind, they wouldn’t have even noticed.”

She made a turn toward the town square.

“Uh-huh. So, who Baader-Meinhoffed the Alsups? Rich? Are they at the Tavern?”

Another turn took us away from the Tavern. “Nope.”

“Clara—” She was enjoying this way too much.

She shot past the street bordering the north side of the square, then turned into the parking lot that served the courthouse and other county government buildings.

Including the Old Old Courthouse, now functioning as the historical society’s headquarters.

Urban stood in its open doorway. He spotted Clara’s van and pointed to an SUV parked at the end of a row, with William and Blanche Alsup squared off beside it. He was vehement. She was implacable.

We pulled in across from it and piled out.

Red-faced, William Alsup jerked around to us and swore before demanding, “What are you doing here?”

“Public parking lot. What are you doing here?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m asking him if he shot Damon Swindell,” Blanche said, sounding oddly bored. “He was out there that night — went to Gallows Path. Surprised the deputies haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Shut up—”

“Too late to tell your wife that now. All sorts of people know.” Clara gestured to Urban, who had his phone out, videoing. “Might as well tell us the rest.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Nothing.”

A gleam of malice showed in Blanche’s sleepy-lidded eyes, directed at her husband. “Way too late for any of that. The shorter one’s been on TV, but the other one’s got some connection to the sheriff’s department. If they didn’t know before, they’ll know real soon you were out there that night.”

Blanche wanted William to squirm.

I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t passing up the opportunity it presented. “Did you shoot—?”

“No. Don’t go telling the deputies— Listen, I saw him turn in and stop. End of story. Couldn’t do anything but go past.”

His words were more pleas than statements.

He absolutely could have done something else. He could have turned onto Gallows Path behind Damon, gotten out of his car, waited for Damon to get out of his . . . but then there was the gun issue.

“You followed him . . .”

“Yeah, I followed him. No law against that.” He was in full squirm mode.

“Your lawyer said not to,” Blanche dropped in.

He glared at her. She was unmoved.