Odds were pretty darned good that it was the one with the sheriff's car parked in front and a crowd of people clustered in the yard. I had highly unpleasant feelings about the reason for the activity, but held out a glimmer of hope that I was wrong. Maybe Dewayne was just having a going away party or something--"or something" would have been my real guess.The house was little more than a square box with a drooping two-post porch on the front. The weathered gray clapboard siding showed a few hints that it might have been covered in white paint at one time, but that time was probably twenty or thirty years ago. And this was where a prominent arms dealer and homebuilder lived? Not exactly a show home for his talents--or maybe it was.I took my time wandering up to the crowd, looking for a semi-friendly face to quiz. Unfortunately, a decidedly unfriendly Harper face spotted me first and came waddling through the weeds in pursuit. Larry was not smiling. He was, however, spitting."Guess you were right about old Dee-Wayne," he said, shaking his head and working his lump of tobacco around in his mouth.My heart sank.
