“No, sir,” Pratt said. “But it sure as hell sounds like Gina is drinking again. Lord. She promised me a thousand times she was through with all that mess. I’m sure you know how low things got for Gina at one point in her life. Said if wasn’t for Jesus Christ Himself on the mainline, she wouldn’t be here today.”

“You told Deputy Caruthers that you thought she might be hurt,” Quinn said. “And you believed she’d been in some kind of fight with her daughter?”

“I don’t know about all that,” Pratt said. “Sorry to have worried y’all, but I need to get back to work. We’re two days late taking inventory on the merlots. Damn Christmastime about cleaned me out. Wonder how y’all did without a decent liquor store here in Tibbehah County all these years.”

Quinn studied Chester Pratt’s face. The man had been sweating, eyes bloodshot. His breath smelled like bourbon and breath mints. Pratt kept his hands on his waist and continued to nod, buzzing with the high energy of someone who wanted to break free of a situation or was in a bad way to get to a bathroom. Quinn scratched at his cheek and smiled. “Just a few more questions, Mr. Pratt.”

“Okay, then,” he said, rubbing his unshaven jaw. “Yes, sir. Whatever y’all need. However I can help.”

“When’s the last time you saw Gina?” Quinn asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe four, five days ago.”

“And where was that, sir?”

“She came over to my house for supper,” Pratt said. “I cooked two T-bones and made some twice-baked potatoes. We sat around and watched one of those movies she liked. Something about these two old geezers holed up in a nursing home telling stories to each other. You had to go through a bunch of shit and flashbacks just to learn that those two very people were husband and wife but were too far gone to know they were talking about themselves. It sure made Gina cry. But I didn’t care for it at all. I prefer a little more action and adventure in my stories.”

“Have y’all been having any trouble?”

“You mean fighting?” Pratt said. “No, sir. That’s not my style. My ex-wives may not like me anymore but they can never say I wasn’t any fun. Kind of hard to yell at each other during one of those weepy-ass movies. Just so you know and not for public consumption, but Miss Byrd stayed the night and we did have intimate relations.”

“Good for you,” Quinn said. “And did you speak to her after that?”