Even the Reverend Goode, holy book still in his hand, had gone beet-red straight back into the sweep of his snowy hair.
“Let’s simmer down,” Brooks called out.
Some of the voices stilled; some of the chest bumpers eased back as Brooks moved through.
Blake had brought his stone-faced assistant, and Brooks had no doubt he was packing. Arkansas still had laws against guns in church—Christ knew for how long—but it was short odds some of those gathered on that green slope wore a weapon along with their tie and shined-up shoes.
Add guns, he thought, and a to-do could go from a scene to a ruckus to a bloodbath in a heartbeat.
“Y’all are standing in front of a church.” He led with disapproval, laced with a thin cover of disappointment. “I expect most of you attended services this morning. I heard some language when I got here that’s not fitting at such a time and place. Now, I’m going to ask y’all to show some respect.”
“It’s Lincoln here started it.” Jill Harris folded her arms. “Mick no sooner walked out the door than Lincoln got in his face.”
“A man’s got a right to say his piece.” Mojean Parsins, Doyle’s mother, squared off with the older woman. “And you oughta keep that parrot nose of yours out of other people’s business.”
“I could if you hadn’ta raised a hooligan.”
“Ladies.” Knowing he took his life in his hands—women were apt to leap and bite, and were as likely to be carrying as their men—Brooks stepped between them. “It’d be best if you, and everybody else, went on home now.”
“You entrapped our boy, you and that Lowery woman. Lincoln told me just what you did. And the Conroys here, they’re trying to make a killing off a bit of teenage mischief.”
Hilly Conroy elbowed her husband aside. From the look of her, Brooks decided she’d finally found her mad. “Mojean Parsins, you know that’s a lie. I’ve known you all your life, and I can see on your face you know that for a lie.”
“Don’t you call me a liar! Your boy’s run that hotel into the ground, and you’re trying to make my boy pay for it.”
“You don’t want to stack your son up against mine, Mojean. If you do, and you try spreading those lies, you’ll be sorry for it.”
“You go to hell.”
“That’s enough.” Mojean’s husband, Clint, stepped forward. “That’s enough, Mojean. We’re going home.”
“You need to stand up for your boy!”
“Why? You’ve been standing in front of him his whole life. I apologize, Hilly, Mick, for the part I played in making Doyle the embarrassment he is. Mojean, I’m going down to the car, and I’m driving home. You can come or stay, that’s up to you. If you stay, I won’t be home when you get there.”
“Don’t you talk to me that—”
But he turned, walked away.
“Clint!” After a quick, wide-eyed look around, she trotted after him.
“This has about worn me out,” Jill commented. “I’m going to walk on home.”
“Why don’t Hilly and I give you a ride, Ms.Harris?” Mick stepped forward, took her arm. “I’m sorry about this, Brooks.”
“You just take Ms.Harris on home.”
“This isn’t finished, Conroy.”
Mick sent Blake a cold stare with weariness around the edges. “I’m telling you for the final time, I’ll do no business with you. Stay away from me, my family and my properties.Keep your assistant and his like away from me, my family and my properties.”
“If you think you can squeeze more money out of me, you’re mistaken. I made you a fair offer.”
“Go on home,” Brooks told Mick, then turned to Blake.
Here he didn’t bother with disapproval or disappointment. He arrowed straight into disgust, and let it show.
“I’m going to be talking to Mr.and Mrs.Conroy later.”
