she could identify their latest visitors.
âSwell,â she muttered, heading for the door. âItâs the sheriff and company.â
Two uniformed men wearing trooper hats marched intothe cabin. Both were average height; one was in his early forties, the other no more than twenty. The older of the two surveyed the living room before looking directly at Judith and Renie.
âAbbott N. Costello.â he announced in a voice devoid of inflection.
Judith looked puzzled. âYouâre Abbott? And heâsâ¦?â
The fortyish lawman shot Judith a look of reproach. âIâm Abbott N . Costello. The âNâ is for Norman.â He gave a nod at the younger man. âDeputy Dabney Plummer.â
âOh.â Judith worked hard at not smiling. She didnât dare glance at Renie, who seemed engrossed with her shoes. âYouâre investigating the Tobias murder, I take it?â
Abbott N. Costello didnât reply. He moved ponderously in a small circle, absorbing every detail of the cabinâs interior. His uniform was steel gray; so were his eyes. The sideburns under the hat were dark, with a touch of gray. He was solidly built, but without an ounce of fat. His features were even and ordinary, except for the stern set of his mouth. By contrast, Dabney Plummer was lean, blue-eyed, pink-cheeked, and boyish. The shock of fair hair that jutted over his forehead was almost white. He struck Judith as both anxious and eager.
Costello concluded his survey. He pointed a sturdy finger at Dabney âGo.â
Judith expected the younger man to leave, but instead, he took out a ballpoint pen and hoisted a clipboard heâd been holding at his side. It was obvious that he understood Costelloâs method of communication. Judith and Renie were both wearing an air of bewilderment.
âName?â The word shot out of Costelloâs mouth, aimed at Judith.
âUhâ¦â Judith reeled a bit, taken aback by the lawmanâs abruptness. âJudith Flynn. I actually live inââ
âName?â Costello had swung around, now fixing Renie with his frozen stare.
Renie couldnât resist. âSmith N. Wesson. The âNâ is forNincompoop.â Unable to control herself for another second, she burst out laughing.
If Judith was dismayed by Renieâs verbal high jinks, Abbott N. Costello was infuriated. He puffed out his chest, lowered his head, and looked as if he intended to charge at the still-giggling Renie.
âYou think homicide is funny? Whatâs funny about death? Whatâs funny about Murder One? Whatâs funny about me? â His ferocious glare would have terrified any woman who hadnât been married to the same man for almost thirty years.
If not intimidated, Renie was at least seemingly chastened. âYeah, right, murderâs not a lot of laughs, Sheriff. Sorry. Weâve been under a strain.â She attempted her middle-aged ingenue expression.
It got nowhere with Abbott N. Costello. âThatâs better,â he muttered. âAnd donât call me âSheriff.â Iâm the undersheriff. The Boss is over on the other side of the county, chasing a serial killer.â
Having elicited the pertinent information about the cousinsâ names, addresses, phone numbers, occupations, and why they were not back in the big city where they belonged, Costello shifted into the investigation at hand.
âYou knew this Tobias?â he demanded, his steel-gray eyes darting back and forth between the cousins.
Judith briefly thought about asking the lawmen to sit, mainly so she and Renie could, too, but if they remained standing, they might not stay as long. âWeâve known him for over twenty years,â she answered, trying to be accommodating. âHe bought that property next to ours from the Kirbys. They were here when my grandparents started building back in the thirties.â
If Judith thought
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