The sheriff essayed a placating smile. “Well, now, Jasper’s one of our most important citizens. He—”
“If you’re ringing in a citizen’s committee, I’m getting out.” Shayne started for the door.
Fleming detained Shayne with a hand on his shoulder. He said mildly, “Be better, maybe, for you to go outside, Jasper.”
Windrow remained solidly planted on his big feet. “I’ve got a right to protect my own interests. If there’s any searching of this cabin done, I mean to be in on it. I’ve got a right to know whether Pete left a will.”
The sheriff echoed, “A will? Now, what made you think of that?”
“I’ve got reason to think of it. There’s talk around town that one of the actresses claims Screwloose was her long-lost father —after he was dead and couldn’t speak up to call her a liar.”
“That,” said Shayne, “is a lie. And a damned nasty one.” His eyes were murky with anger.
Windrow disregarded him. He continued steadily, “Looks like a swindle to me. I don’t believe Pete ever had any daughter or any family. I aim to be right here and see that no fake evidence is put over on anybody. If there’s proof, all right. If there isn’t, I’ll take it to court.”
Shayne’s breathing was heavy. He moved around to confront Windrow. “You seem to be intimating that I’m in the swindle with her.”
“I don’t know about that. I notice you’re sticking your oar in for no good reason. They say you were running around with that Carson girl pretending to hunt Pete just after he’d been killed.”