The sheriff stepped back and almost bumped into Shayne.
Mattson said, “Olivia!” and the word was smothered by her teary voice:
“Oh, John! How could you ever have been so silly! I didn’t know you cared that way. As if I’d ever leave you. You know I love you, John. You know I do.”
Mattson took her arms from around his neck and demanded harshly, “What about Carson? You were drooling about him this afternoon.”
She sobbed, “That was nothing, John. Honestly it wasn’t. If I’d thought for a moment you’d take me seriously—”
“Seriously? Good God ’lmighty. You were demanding a divorce this afternoon so you could marry Carson. Yes, and by God, you wanted half my money to turn over to him. Now you say you weren’t serious.”
Olivia Mattson laughed scornfully. “Marry that youngster? I guess I was just a silly old woman wanting some flattery, John. But it’s all over now. I wouldn’t trade you for a hundred Frank Carsons.”
Sheriff Fleming touched Shayne’s arm and they withdrew. The sheriff muttered, “Frank Carson,” in a troubled voice. “Would he be the husband of Pete’s girl?”
Shayne said, “He would. See you later.” He retraced his steps and shouldered his way inside the barroom.
Frank Carson grabbed his arm and pulled him aside before he could look around for Phyllis and Casey. Carson asked in a desperate voice, “Have you found Nora yet?” His face was drawn and white, and his left eyelid jerked nervously.