They worked quietly, then Ridley, voice low, said, “Arch, if you don’t mend some fences you’re going to lose your commission seat. Mim’s in a rage.”

            Archie flared his nostrils. “She is?”

            “What did you expect? You acted like a jerk at the commission meeting.” He smiled to soften his words. “You didn’t seem like yourself.”

            Archie shrugged. “I’m sick of being the bad guy in the county-commission meetings.”

            “You’re only the bad guy to the developers. Plenty of people think you’re doing a fine job. No one understands why you’re so emotional about the reservoir, though. I’m on your side, Arch, that’s why I’m telling you what others won’t tell you. You need to mend fences,” he repeated.

            “H. Vane is behind this.”

            “He may be behind it but I’m telling you Mim’s in front of it.” Ridley put his cartridges in stacks of ten. “And why did you deny Vane-Tempest’s request for a zoning variance last winter? Establishing a quarry on the north side of his land is a good idea. No one will see it and it will create jobs.”

            “He needed better plans.”

            “Come on, Arch, his plan included a responsible solution to reclaim the pits. It was environmentally progressive.” Ridley lowered his voice. “Are you on the take?” Archie’s jaw fell slack. Ridley pressed. “That’s what some people are saying. I’ll never tell but I’d sure like to know because you’re acting like you’re a nickel short of a dime these days. People think hard-line environmental groups are slipping you money. Crazy. But they’re talking like that.”

            Archie got up, heading for the door. Ridley ran after him. “Arch! Come on, Arch. I’m trying to help.”

            “Help? You accuse me of betraying the public’s confidence!”

            “I don’t want you to lose what you’ve worked so hard to get. Come on, sit down.”

            Archie rejoined him. “I am not on the take.”

            “Okay.” Ridley paused. “Hey, did you hear that Tommy Van Allen is missing?”

            “He’s not missing. He’s probably in Santa Fe or Buenos Aires, for God’s sake. That is the most self-indulgent man I’ve ever met.”

            “Rick Shaw called me. They’re treating it as a missing-persons case. His plane is missing, too.”

            “I’m glad we never pitched in and bought that twin engine. I don’t know how I could have fallen for that.”

            “It was fun… our flying club, but I don’t get the power charge from flying that you guys do.”

            “At least you could afford it.” Archie absentmindedly polished the brass bands on the rifle.

            “Tommy and I already knew how to fly, of course, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. And H. Vane learned in the RAF. Maybe being up in the air again reminded me too much of my service days or maybe I really am up in the air. It was too close for comfort.”

            “Blair sure learned quickly. I thought a pretty guy like that would chicken out. I’d rather he had dropped out instead of you.”

            “I can’t warm to that guy.” Ridley offered Archie a beer. He passed. “He’s not cold-blooded but he’s not hot-blooded either. Like last fall, when he had that affairette with Sarah Vane-Tempest—”

            Arch interrupted, “He did not.”

            “The hell he didn’t. They were discreet about it, that’s all.”

            “I can’t believe she’d go to bed with Blair Bainbridge,” Archie said with disgust.

            “Didn’t last long. Maybe he got bored with her or she got bored with him. Then, too, I wouldn’t want H. Vane breathing down my neck.”

            “What’s H. Vane expect, marrying a woman half his age?”

            Ridley walked to the fridge. “Drink a beer, buddy, you look peaked.”

            “Huh? Okay.” Archie took the cold beer, peeling back the pop-top. “I know I’ve been irritable. Too much work, Ridley. Just too much. My wife complains that she never sees me and since she only complains when she does see me, I don’t want to go home.” He drank a long, slow swallow. “Being a county commissioner can sometimes, well, let me put it this way—if there’s a buffoon, an asshole, or a certifiable psycho, not only will I meet them campaigning they’ll show up in my office. And this reservoir stuff brings them all out of the woodwork.”

            “Forget about it for a night. I’ll make popcorn. We can tell lies about the women we’ve conquered.”

            “Sounds good to me.” Archie drained the beer can, got up, and fetched another.

            9

            The rain stopped Wednesday morning. That evening after supper, Mrs. Murphy gathered Pewter and Tucker on the screened-in porch.

            “Four miles is too far in the muck. Let’s wait a few more days,” Pewter whined.

            “For all we know, the plane will be gone by then.” Mrs. Murphy sniffed the wind, a light breeze out of the west. “I’m heading out.”

            “I’ll go with you.” Tucker’s big ears moved forward.

            “I’m staying home.” Pewter sat down.

            “Chicken,” the dog teased her.

            “I’m not chicken. I don’t feel like getting dirty, especially since I’ve just given myself a bath.”

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