Where There's Smoke

He said nothing because he had the uncomfortable impression that she was mocking him.

“Are you changing the dressing regularly? If not, it could still become infected. Is the wound healing properly?”

“It’s fine. Look,” he said, propping his elbow on the roof of the car, “should I consider this a house call? Are you going to bill me for a consultation?”

“Not this time.”

“Gee, Doc, thanks. Good night.”

“Actually,” she said, taking a step toward him, “I have something else to speak to you about and thought you would rather I do it here where we can’t be overheard.”

“Guess again. Whatever you want to talk about, I’m in no mood to hear. In fact, my mood tonight is what you might call fractious. Do yourself a favor and make yourself scarce.”

He was about to duck into the driver’s seat when she surprised him further by grabbing his arm. “You’ve got gall, Mr. Tackett. I give you credit for that. Or was it Mrs. Winston’s idea to fake a break-in rather than get caught in adultery?”

Key was taken aback, but only momentarily. She was gazing at him solemnly, so solemnly that he smiled. “Well I’ll be damned. The Whiz Kid thinks she’s got it all figured out.”

“Mr. Winston interrupted you while you were in bed with his wife, didn’t he?”

“Why ask me? You’ve got all the answers.”

“While escaping you sprained your ankle. To cover your tracks, Mrs. Winston shot at you. It’s a scene straight out of a bad movie. Did you know she was going to shoot at you?”

“What the hell do you care?”

“That means you didn’t.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said crossly. “My question stands. What do you care? Or do you just have an unnatural curiosity about the love lives of other people?”

“The only reason I care,” she said heatedly, “is because you barged into my clinic and called me a whore for doing the same thing you did.”

“It’s not quite the same thing, is it?”

“Oh really? How is it different?”

“Because Darcy and I weren’t hurting anybody.”

“Not hurting anybody!” she cried. “She’s married. You claimed that was my most grievous sin.”

“No, your most grievous sin was getting caught.”

“So as long as her husband remains in the dark, it’s okay for you to have an affair with her?”

“Not okay, maybe. But not catastrophic. The only ones suffering any consequences are the sinners.”

“Hardly, Mr. Tackett. You’ve whipped an entire town into a panic over a ‘crime wave’ that doesn’t even exist.”

“That wasn’t any of my doing. Fergus freaked out when he heard Darcy screaming and firing that pistol. He got a little carried away.”

“Or maybe he used the mythical intruder to conveniently allay his own suspicions.”

That possibility also had occurred to Key, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I’m not responsible for what went on inside his head.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you’ve instilled fear into a whole town?”

“Fear?” he scoffed. “Hell. Folks are loving the scare. Eating it up. They have something to keep their minds off the heat during these last dull weeks before Labor Day. Sheriff Baxter told me that attempted break-ins and window-peepers have been reported all over town.”

He chuckled. “Take Miss Winnie Fern Lewis for example. She lives in a spooky old three-story house over on Cannon Street. We used to tear down her clothesline every Halloween because she was mean and stingy and handed out only penny candy.