Action Packed (14)

“Yes.”  I answered.

 She shook her head.  “It might have been better if you let him get beat up.”

 “He might have been killed by those kids.”

 “He might be killed now.”

 Lenny interrupted, “Did they say why he was arrested?”

 “On suspicion of assault and battery and—and more.  He may be a fool sometimes, but not that kind of fool.”

 I was stung by her tone.  “I’m sorry we caused you trouble.”

 “The world is full of trouble.”  She carried her vegetables into the little clapboard house as if she had said goodbye.

 We drove back to Lenora.  The sheriff’s office and jail was in a little building on the courthouse square.  A star-shaped sign by the door bore the name of the sheriff, Phillips Henry May.

 The office was one room, with a third of it separated from the rest by a banister.  In the larger part sat a desk with a telephone, a radio and a deputy.  A few filing cabinets, a map of the county and a ceiling fan completed the furnishings on that side of the room.  Behind the rails was the sheriff’s private office with a desk, a telephone, a bookshelf and Phillips Henry May himself.  On the back wall were two doors; one was steel, with a barred window of reinforced glass.

 The deputy was on the phone, but Sheriff May greeted us.  He was a little shorter than me, but very broad shoulder.  His hair was blond, cut short, and hardly showed the gray.  His teeth gleamed in his tan face.  “How can I help you?”

 “We understand you’ve arrested a man called Moon,” answered Lenny.

 “We have Montgomery Andrew Johnson in custody.  How does that concern you?”

 “We may know something about his whereabouts last night.”

 This elicited an audible snort from the deputy, who was hanging up the phone.  I didn’t turn, but tried to meet May’s unwavering, blue gaze.  He said, “Come in and have a seat.  Pete, bring over a couple of chairs.”

 When we were situated around the desk, Sheriff May continued.  “What are your names?”