“Already did there in her kitchen.”
He had, but with a sinking heart, Laurel had known he would come up empty, and he had. Irv would never let her hear the last of it. If she lived through this.
“Search again,” Croft said now. “Right pocket. Yesterday, I saw her patting at it. Giveaway habit.”
Hennessy did as told, even shoving his hands into her pockets and digging deep. “Nothing, boss.”
Gert snickered. “Try her garters.”
Laurel looked defiantly at Croft as he motioned for his muscle man to do as suggested. Hennessy knelt in front of her and ran his hands up and down both legs, higher than her garters. Being groped by him was a desecration of Thatcher’s caresses. She wanted to scream.
As Hennessy came to his feet, he grinned at her. “Nothing but smooth skin.”
She forced herself not to react either to his molestation or disgusting leer.
Croft then hitched his chin at Hennessy, who pushed her lower spine hard enough to knock her off balance. She fell forward onto the lowest porch step. Without her hands free to catch herself, she landed on her elbow. Pain sizzled up her arm and into her shoulder. She couldn’t cry out for the handkerchief in her mouth. Even had she been able to, she wouldn’t have given this trio of degenerates the satisfaction.
“No call for rough stuff, Hennessy,” Croft said. “Yet.”
He reached down and helped Laurel to her feet and guided her up the steps. But once they reached the porch, she yanked her arm free of his deceptively solicitous grip.
He took the white linen handkerchief from her mouth. It was monogrammed with his initials. Feeling her saliva on it, he frowned with distaste. She would have liked to spit in his eye, but reasoned that, at this point, her best defense was to show as little reaction as possible. But while her features remained composed and indifferent, she was quaking on the inside. No one knew where she was. Not Irv, Thatcher, no one.
Croft raised a hand to shade his eyes. “Gert, let’s take her inside, get her and her delicate skin out of this sun. We wouldn’t want her to burn.”
Gert gave a phlegmy laugh as she pulled open the squeaky screened door. “Of course not, wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Hennessy stayed outside.
The room was as Laurel remembered: cavernous, dim, and hazy with cigarette smoke. There was no sign of Lefty. Only an ominous silence came from upstairs. The shotgun lay on the bar. Gert walked over to it, sat down on a stool, and lit a fresh cigarette as though settling in for the floor show.
Laurel realized she was it.
Croft pushed her into a chair, then dragged one over, stationed it directly in front of her, and sat down.
“Mrs. Plummer—can I call you Laurel?—where is Chester Landry?”
Of all the things he could have said, that question was the least expected.
Gert must have thought the same. She came off her stool with a thud. “Chester Landry, my ass. Ask her where my girl’s at. Soon’s I find that scheming little bitch, I’m gonna wring her neck, and let Miss High Horse here watch while I do it.”
Croft acted as though he hadn’t heard her and remained focused on Laurel. “Where was Landry headed when he slunk off last night?”
Laurel laughed. “You could have asked me that without going to all this elaborate trouble.”
“Then tell me where he is.”
“I have no earthly idea.”
He sighed. Then, with shocking alacrity and force, he backhanded her across the face.
Fifty-Eight
Following the stomach pumping procedure, Daisy Amos was resting more comfortably. Thatcher knew Bill hated leaving her side and resuming his duties, but he was hard pressed to do so on this of all days, when three major investigations demanded attention and action.
He asked Thatcher to escort the doctor downstairs to the parlor where he would soon join them. “Put these on him.” He produced a pair of handcuffs.
Bill remained in the foyer with Scotty, who had been communicating with headquarters by telephone. He reported that the two Texas Rangers had divided up. One was getting information from the deputies who’d investigated the scene of the ambush. The other had gone to the Johnson homestead to assess the devastation there in advance of the arrival of the arson specialists.