Page 95 of Death on Gallows Path

Ruby pursed her lips. “Wouldn’t say that. Not entirely. He came back from the edge of the pit. But there’s a . . . cloud. Not only grief . . . Anger, I guess I’d say. Some rail at God when they go through what Oscar’s faced, but I don’t think that’s it . . .”

She clicked her tongue, dissatisfied with herself.

“It’s so wrong when a woman like Jean dies without her dream trip and a man like Oscar carries the weight of that, while that Damon Swindell gets off free as a bird.”

“Well, he was murdered,” I noted.

“Some would say it was high time,” she said darkly.

“Would William Alsup say that?”

“Oh, him.” Her expression did a feat of facial gymnastics I interpreted as meaning he did not rank as low as Damon in her estimation, but would have a long climb to reach neutral.

“I don’t know for sure, so I’m not saying right out, but he’s not above using every trick in the book himself to get his own back, plus tricks that shouldn’t be written in any book ever.”

She looked past us to her husband.

We turned and saw him dropping his head. He might have been looking at Ruby a moment before, but now his focus returned to the dogs.

“Ira is right again. You two are a special case. But I don’t feel comfortable saying what’s only a spider web in my mind.”

She pressed her lips together and I thought we’d lost out on whatever speculations she had.

“I’ll say this much — Blanche wasn’t fooling around with Damon Swindell for fun. And she didn’t come up with the idea on her own.”

* * * *

“What do you think she meant about Blanche?” I asked Clara as she drove toward my house.

“I don’t know. But I’ll ask the ladies if they have any thoughts. Also about Oscar. That was interesting, wasn’t it? Sounds like he’s become an angry man.”

“And you’re thinking he could have taken it out on Damon.”

“He’d have good cause. Stealing money is one thing, but denying a dying woman her life-long dream . . .”

From her tone, Clara might vote for justifiable homicide under that circumstance.

Alsup didn’t have that advantage with her.

“While I talk to that potential client next, what you need to do is follow up with Urban about Alsup,” she added.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“Urban.”

“Sheila.”

After my post-dog park shower, and with my airport duty canceled and reunion with Teague delayed, I’d decided I might as well do my part, which meant following up with Urban.

Also to avoid Clara being disappointed in me when she came over later.

The concise greetings upon my arrival at the historical society indicated our position on the friendship ladder had not improved.

“I wanted to check if William Alsup is related to Felix Alsup, who was hanged in 1936.”

“He is. A good many other people are, too, here and elsewhere, since Felix was one of twelve siblings.”

“I have another question, though it’s not exactly historical. At least not as far back as we usually discuss. Before you retired, did you have any business dealings with Damon Swindell?”