The Rivers Webb Read Free Page A

pardon?” he asked.
    â€œOh, don’t take no offense,” the man replied, raising his hands, placating, “I certainly ain’t sayin’ nothin’ bad about your mama. God forbid! That woman were a saint, an’ ever’body knows it.”
    â€œI had no idea my family history was so well known,” he said simply. At that, the big man laughed.
    â€œEver’thing’s well known in Coweta County. But I guess I’m bein’ a bit rude about it. I forget sometimes that the world works a little differ’nt once you cross that county line; practically flips upside down once you leave the state! The name’s Stovall, by the way. Arthur Stovall.”
    A sudden understanding rushed through John’s brain. Stovall was a name he did recognize. His mother received many letters from Annie Ruth Stovall, one of the few people in Sales City she referred to as a friend.
    â€œAnnie Ruth’s husband, of course. I suppose you would know more about me than anyone around here, as much as your wife and my mother wrote to each other,” John said. Hard as he tried, John couldn’t help let a little pain slip out with his words.
    â€œWe were real sorry to hear o’ her passin’. Sometimes I think God gets a little greedy, takin’ the best of us up with him, and leavin’ the worst lot behind to mess this old world up even more ’an what it already is.”
    That was when John decided that he liked the man. Maybe it was the honest nature of his face, or the slow sincere way he had of talking, but there was something distinctly likeable about him. It was a mistake, and he knew it. Until he knew more about the case, every man, woman, child, and household pet was a murder suspect. Getting friendly with anyone would only cloud his thinking… Still, he just couldn’t help it. The damage was done. He liked the guy.
    â€œThe good reverend, for instance. There was a fella’ had no business bein’ taken like that. Awful. Just Awful.” Arthur shook his head in sympathy.
    â€œHe was the only member of my family I really knew,” John said, sympathetically. And then he wondered why. He felt himself sinking into dangerous territory—sympathizing with, even confiding in, a possible suspect. He blamed it on feeling out-of-place here. He knew just how dangerous it was to mix feelings in with an investigation, and he could even imagine what his partner would say if he was back home right now.
    â€œHe was a good man, your uncle. Everybody sure loved him.”
    John’s face went a little cold. From somewhere deep inside, he forced his professionalism to take over.
    â€œNot everyone. There was at least one person who didn’t love him—not even a little bit.”
    John wasn’t here for a vacation, or a reunion, or any kind of exploration into his lost childhood. He was in Sales City to solve a murder.
    â€œWhich is what brings me here. I wanted to check in with the sheriff, but…” he jerked his head to indicate the locked doors behind him.
    â€œOh, you’ll find ’em all at the old Parrott River bridge,” Arthur said easily enough. “The sheriff got it figured as that was where it happened. Don’t ask me how. But he got both his deputies together and they drove out there about an hour ago.”
    â€œThanks,” John said, getting back into the car. He was starting to wonder how any kind of mystery could possibly develop in a town where everyone seemed to know everything about everybody. “I appreciate the help.”
    â€œGlad to help,” Arthur replied good-naturedly.
    â€œOh, and congratulations on your new barn,” John added.
    â€œWell, now, I guess it’s my turn to be surprised!” Arthur said with a big grin.
    â€œDon’t be,” John replied, “I cheated. Wilhelmina told me how the town had a barn-raising for you.”
    Arthur gave a nod that said