She stopped at Woody’s desk. “You’ll never guess who I just saw with a Baby Glock tucked in his waistband.” She panted. “And who has two vehicles here, one of them a blue truck!” Woody turned away from the computer and stared at her. “I give up. Who?” “Philip Corini,” Rhetta said, her heart still thumping wildly. “I’m going to call the police.” Woody placed a hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. What are you going to tell them? It’s not illegal to carry a weapon. If you have a concealed carry permit, you can hide it in your waistband. It’s also not illegal to have two vehicles.” She shook off Woody’s hand. She drilled a stare into Woody. “I know that, Woody. I have a concealed carry permit, and we have more than two vehicles. It’s just that one of his is a blue truck, for heaven’s sake. Maybe he’s who ran over George Erickson.” She ran to her desk, and grabbed the phone. “Corini drove his pickup in the day we had the bad weather. So what are you going to report?
