"I'm surprised you could get reception up here," he said.

"Never can tell where. It's spotty." Then, as she reached her vehicle she turned and added, "Sorry about Patsy snatching the kid. But don't worry, she's too stupid to get away very long. And don't worry about her hurting the kid-that just won't happen. Patsy's a mouse."

Lydia Larkin spun out of the meadow in a cloud of dust, leaving Dean to await its dissipation before following in his open vehicle. As he drove back to town, he continued to mull over what Under Sheriff Larkin had said about Fitzgerald. The man had a vindictive streak as wide as the valley, no doubt there. But what Lydia suggested he was up to was the worst kind of criminal sexual harassment. To Dean's way of thinking, it spoke of fear-as well as guilt. If he could only be sure it wasn't Lydia who'd chased Billy Langstrom down the mountain, siren screaming, to his rolling, crushing death. Then he'd know for sure it was Sheriff Seymour Fitzgerald.

When Dean returned to Bird Song, it was mid-morning, but if he expected a quiet empty building with the Dawkinses at the courthouse and the rest of the clientele enjoying the splendors of Ouray, he was wrong. Ginger Dawkins was sitting on the porch in her pretty blue sweater as if she'd never huffed and puffed her exit a day earlier. Lovey-dovey next to her sat husband Joseph. Dean nodded. So did Ginger, and Joseph actually smiled.

"Court's all finished," he said. "We settled."

"Good for you, I guess," Dean answered. "Do you own the land now?"

"Nope. We sold it to the bitch."

"Joseph!" Ginger slapped his arm playfully. "She isn't so bad."

"Didn't get the other offer I wanted. It was all smoke. It wouldn't surprise me that Paul had a hand in it." Ginger administered whack number two, followed with a 'be nice' comment. "Or," Joseph continued, "that skuzzy attorney who's been trying to make a play for my wife. Can you believe it?"

Dean couldn't believe it, and shook his head to so indicate. Ginger glanced up at Dean. He was sure he saw her bite her cheek.

Paul and Paulette were huddled in the parlor looking almost as happy as the front porch pair. Paul waved and announced something about leaving tomorrow, the soonest they could get an airline booking from Montrose. Dean lied that he'd miss them and strolled into the kitchen where Cynthia and Maria were enjoying a second breakfast. Dean kept quiet about his meager half-breakfast.

He brought Cynthia up to speed on his meeting with Lydia after confirming there was no further word on Martha's disappearance. He spoke in front of Maria's uncomprehending presence, although statements like "Martha, no" were readily understood. Breakfast number two was of Maria's making, an effort to cheer up Cynthia. It was some sort of sugared tortilla that fogged the kitchen in a delicious, sweet aroma.




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