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."