Best Kept Secrets

Mr. Harper didn't tell Pat why you were coming to Purcell,

 

even though they were friends in law school. Is it something

 

to do with ME getting that gambling license?"

 

"ME?"

 

"Minton Enterprises." She said it as though she was surprised

 

Alex was not familiar with the name.

 

"Perhaps I shouldn't keep them waiting any longer," Alex

 

suggested tactfully, sidestepping Imogene's question.

 

"Shoot, just listen to me running off at the mouth. Did

 

you say you wanted some coffee, honey?"

 

"No, thank you." Alex followed Imogene toward the door.

 

Her heart started beating double-time.

 

"Excuse me." Imogene interrupted the conversation by

 

poking her head into the room. "District Attorney Harper's

 

assistant is here. Y'all sure are in for a treat." She turned

 

back toward Alex. One set of eyelashes, gummy with navy

 

blue mascara, dropped over her eye in a broad, just-between-us-girls

 

wink. "Go on in, honey."

 

Alex, bracing herself for the most crucial meeting in her

 

life, entered the office.

 

It was obvious from the relaxed atmosphere that the men

 

in the room had been expecting another man. The moment

 

she crossed the threshold and Imogene pulled the transomed

 

door closed, the man seated behind the desk sprang to his

 

feet. He ground out a burning cigar in the thick, glass ashtray

 

and reached for his suit coat, which had been draped over

 

the back of his chair.

 

"Pat Chastain," he said, extending his hand. " Treat' is

 

an understatement. But then, my good buddy Greg Harper

 

always did have an eye for the ladies. Doesn't surprise me

 

a bit that he's got a good-lookin' woman on his staff."

 

His sexist remark set her teeth on edge, but she let it slide.

 

She inclined her head in acknowledgment of Chastain's compliment.

 

The hand she clasped in a firm handshake was so

 

loaded down with gold-nugget jewelry it could have anchored

 

a fair-sized yacht. "Thank you for arranging this meeting,

 

Mr. Chastain."

 

 

 

"No problem, no problem. Glad to be of service to both

 

you and Greg. And call me Pat." Taking her elbow, he turned

 

her toward the other two men, who had come to their feet

 

out of deference to her. ' 'This here is Mr. Angus Minton and

 

his son, Junior."

 

' 'Gentlemen.'' Confronting them, meeting them eye to eye

 

for the first time, had a strange and powerful impact on her.

 

Curiosity and antipathy warred inside her. She wanted to

 

analyze them, denounce them. Instead, she behaved in the

 

expected civilized manner and extended her hand.

 

It was clasped by one studded with calluses. The handshake

 

bordered on being too hard, but it was as open and friendly

 

as the face smiling at her.

 

"A pleasure, ma'am. Welcome to Purcell County."

 

Angus Minton's face was tanned and weathered, ravaged

 

by blistering summer sun, frigid blue northers, and years of

 

outdoor work. Intelligent blue eyes twinkled at her from sockets

 

radiating lines of friendliness. He had a boisterous voice.

 

Alex guessed that his laugh would be as expansive as his

 

broad chest and the beer belly that was his only sign of

 

indulgence. Otherwise, he seemed physically fit and strong.

 

Even a younger, larger man would be loath to pick a fight

 

with him because of his commanding presence. For all his

 

strength, he looked as guileless as an altar boy.

 

His son's handshake was softer, but no less hearty or

 

friendly. He enfolded Alex's hand warmly, and in a confidence-inspiring

 

voice, said, "I'm Junior Minton. How do

 

you do?"

 

"How do you do?"

 

He didn't look his forty-three years, especially when he

 

smiled. His straight white teeth flashed and a devilish dimple

 

cratered one cheek, suggesting that he behaved no better than

 

any given occasion called for him to. His blue eyes, a shade

 

deeper than his father's but just as mischievous, held hers

 

long enough to intimate that they were the only two in the

 

room who mattered. She withdrew her hand before Junior

 

Minton seemed ready to relinquish it.

 

"And over yonder is Reede, Reede Lambert."