“You don’t seem to be regarding me as a prime suspect in her death any longer,” Bobo said, manfully accepting the fact that the sheriff was sitting in his favorite chair. After all, the guy wasn’t arresting him for murder. He could have the damn chair. “And since I’ve already been into the police station once, you’ve searched my place, you’ve told me she wasn’t shot so I’m in the clear on the gun, and I have a lawyer on speed dial, I’m wondering what my status is now.”

“For the time period in which Ms. Hamilton—well, Mrs. Lowry—must have died . . . if we accept the testimony of Fiji Cavanaugh and your tenant . . . your presence in Dallas has been confirmed,” Smith said, sounding neither pleased nor displeased. “We could drum up a charge based on the fact that that gun was supposed to be here and secure, not laying on the ground by a river, but of course we can’t prove you were negligent enough to leave it there. It could have been stolen from here, though in that case your security needs some tending. Or your employees Lemuel Bridger or Teacher Reed could have taken it out. Unless more evidence turns up, you’re in the clear.”

“Wow,” said Bobo, as he absorbed this information. “Well, I feel relieved, of course.” He shifted around on the stool, not sure where to look.

“You don’t sound as happy as I expected.”

“I’m not happy,” Bobo said. “I loved Aubrey, and she’s dead. Not only did I lose her, but I’ve found out our whole relationship was a lie.”

“You believed everything she told you?”

Probably the sheriff was trying to sound neutral, but Bobo caught a hint of incredulity. “You seem to be a skeptical kind of man,” he said. “I guess in your line of work, that’s inevitable. I have a sister and a mother. They aren’t really pleasant women, or very smart . . . but they do tell the truth, as they see it. I know a lot of truthful women. And I guess I’m not conceited enough to imagine women making up elaborate schemes to meet me, like you say Aubrey did. My family’s had trouble enough in the past. I don’t need any more.”

Both men turned to the front door as it flew open.

Fiji came in, skidding to an abrupt stop when she realized both men were sitting calmly. “Oh!” she said. “Ummm, I saw your car outside, Sheriff . . . and I wondered if everything was okay over here.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Smith said mildly. “How do you feel, Mr. Winthrop?”