This didn’t sound promising. “Tolliver isn’t wanted by police anywhere,” I said, as calmly as I could.

“I know my brother’s the sheriff, but you must realize that I can’t interfere with legal matters,” Sybil said, and her voice was frosty rather than cool.

“Tolliver is my brother, and your brother’s deputy set him up, for reasons best known to himself.”

“Which deputy?” Sybil said, and that did surprise me.

“The one named Bledsoe. Some coincidence, right?” I wanted Sybil to confess that she’d sicced the deputy on to me, so I’d know who my enemy was.

“That would be Marv,” she said slowly, and now she sounded distinctly unhappy, whether because I’d tried to involve her or for some other reason. “Paul’s second cousin. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Was everyone involved in this case related?

Sybil wasn’t willing to do a thing to help me, and I wasn’t even sure I could think of anything concrete for her to do. She wasn’t happy, and I definitely got the feeling she didn’t think Tolliver was guilty of anything. But she also couldn’t or wouldn’t intercede with the sheriff. We hung up, equally unhappy with each other.

I thought long and hard. Then I called Mary Nell Teague on her cell phone. She’d given the number to Tolliver, and I’d fished it out of his jacket pocket when I packed up his stuff. She’d drawn a little curlicue under “Nell.”

Mary Nell wasn’t happy at hearing my voice on the other end of the line.

“Tolliver himself can’t call you,” I said, “since your uncle Harvey put him in jail.” This was not entirely accurate, but I wasn’t interested in being fair.

She shrieked and carried on for a full minute while I waited patiently on the other end of the line.

“Of course, he isn’t wanted by the police in Montana,” she said. “That’s just crazy.”

Though Mary Nell was just basing her opinion on her sexual attraction to Tolliver rather than any factual basis, it was nice to hear someone so positively on his side. To set the outspoken teenager on the right track, I told her that her mother had refused to help. I didn’t put it as bluntly as that, but I made sure the picture got transferred. This would ensure that Sybil’s life would be irritating and unpleasant for at least twenty-four hours, which was no more than she deserved. I’m not above being petty.