"Earl," the woman at the stove said. There was a quality of urgency in her voice that stopped him short. He pivoted.
"Yes?"
"You think the phantom buck might have done the killing?"
Here it was again, he thought. They weren't satisfied to let the whole thing pass as an accident. They had to bring up dead dogs, fall back on superstition. Everything was perfect for hunting, and they had to spoil the spirit of the thing.
"That phantom buck business is a damned fairy tale," he said.
"But you think it was the phantom buck, all the same."
Robinson said nothing. The woman pushed the coffee pot back on the stove and went to the window. She stared out at the snowy world.
"Bill saw the phantom buck once."
"I know," Robinson said. He wished she wouldn't talk about it. She was getting herself all excited. "Probably Bill had been drinking some of that snake bite medicine."
Mrs. Boody shook her head.