The Good Ground (The Craigallan Family Saga Book 4) by Tessa Barclay

Author:Tessa Barclay [Barclay, Tessa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: historical romance, family saga, edwardian romance, historical novels, family saga series, historical fiction, 1920s romance
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Family Saga)
Published: 2020-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The sheriff of San Joaquin County was paunchy, bulky, sweating, and abjectly apologetic. ‘What can I tell you, Mr McGarth? Seems like they were just a bunch of drunks on a toot that got out of hand.’

‘A bunch of drunks? With tear gas?’

‘Yeah … Well … when my men got on the scene they didn’t smell no tear gas.’

‘It was strong in the air when I got there. And if you analyse those scraps of metal, I think you’ll find they’re part of a tear gas grenade.’

‘They’re at our laboratories in Sacramento now.’ Alvert moved from one foot to the other, heavy and uneasy. ‘Even if that’s what they are, Mr McGarth, guys coming out of the army bring things like that for souvenirs. Mebbe even steal ’em for fun, when they’re training with the National Guard.’

Gregor invited the man to sit down. No use to make an enemy of him, although he wasn’t going to rouse himself to help track down Francesca’s murderers. ‘Have you traced any of the migrants?’

‘Naw! ’F you ask me, they’re to hell and gone in Mexico by now.’ I would be, if it were me, Alvert added inwardly. What gasoline gypsy wants to be rounded up as witness in a thing like this? Kept hanging about in Fresno until the case comes on ‒ if it ever does ‒ with not a cent coming in while the fruit and vegetable harvests are being picked out in the countryside, and you’re losing your chance of a job for the whole season.

‘My foreman tells me one of the families had a truck with Oklahoma registration plates,’ Gregor said. ‘The Siggetts. They wouldn’t head for Mexico.’

‘Mebbe not.’ But they’re over the state boundary by now, thought Alvert. They all took off like a covey of partridge, and you ain’t gonna find them anywhere near Regalo Orange Orchard, so give up the idea. ‘I’ve put out a call-in on them, but we didn’t get a hold of that idea until yesterday morning and I reckon they’d a covered a thousand miles in them thirty-six hours.

‘You got to figure, Mr McGarth,’ Alvert said as kindly as he could, ‘them folks don’t want to be looked at by a peace officer. You know what they’re like ‒ they don’t exactly steal, but things go missing off of washlines when they’re around, chickens stray away from the coop and don’t come back, a sack of flour disappears from Mitchin’s Stores. So they don’t aim to be noticed at any time, and they sure don’t want to be picked up and questioned too close.’

Listen, you’re a smart guy, he was saying to Gregor, though not in so many words. You had a college education and all that. You must know we’re not going to get any witnesses to come forward.

Gregor understood only too well. Alvert had been elected by the population of San Joacquin County with the help and agreement of the estate owners. No one would ever reach any office in the San Joacquin Valley who didn’t go along with the views of the men of power.

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