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wasn't above the prudent use of feminine wiles, as long as she didn't compromise herself. A girl had to use what tools she had at her disposal. If batting a lash or two would loosen a man's tongue, she figured that was his problem, not hers.
    An even nastier smile turned the corners of Ellstrom's lips as he considered the ramifications of having Elizabeth Stuart quote him in the
Clarion
. Jantzen would shit a brick. That alone made it worth his while.
    He shot her a sideways glance, taking in the big silver eyes and ripe mouth. He'd seen her around town. She had a body that could give a man a fever. He couldn't make up his mind which he would grab first if he got the chance, tits or ass. Either way, a man was guaranteed a good time. It wouldn't hurt him a bit to do her a favor or two, he thought, shifting a little in his seat as the crotch of his pants tightened up, making him forget about his intestinal distress for a moment. Rumor had it she'd be willing to return a man's favor—on her back. His dick twitched at the thought.
    “Yeah, sure. Why not.” He straightened up behind the wheel, puffing his chest out with self-importance. “Like I said, Jantzen's blowing this investigation calling in outsiders. We can take care of our own in Tyler County.”
    “My, you certainly do sound like the voice of authority, Deputy,” Elizabeth murmured, glad for the poor light so he couldn't see her roll her eyes.
    Ellstrom sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, well, I should have beat Jantzen in the last election, you know.”
    “Is that a fact?”
    “He only won because he used to play pro football. Big fucking deal.”
    Elizabeth's imagination instantly conjured up a picture of Jantzen in full football regalia—pads accenting his shoulders, tight little spandex britches hugging his behind. She cursed herself for having a natural weakness for big, strapping athletic men. Her life would have been a whole hell of a lot tamer if she had been attracted to the anemic, balding, bookish type.
    The headlights of the cruiser spotlighted her Eldorado hanging off the south side of the road, abandoned like a beached whale, and she heaved a sigh. Damn car. If it hadn't been for the fact that the Caddy had an undercarriage lower than a sow's belly, she would have driven right on past Still Waters and been home now, blissfully ignorant of Jarrold Jarvis's murder and blissfully ignorant of Dane Jantzen.
    Ellstrom slowed the cruiser and gave the car a suspicious glance, showing off his miraculous cop instincts. “That yours?”
    “Yep.” Elizabeth's heart sank a little as they rolled past the car. She couldn't bring herself to be mad at it. It was the '76 model, a sleek cherry-red boat designed before the days of fuel economy and aerodynamics. The last of the GM ragtops of its day, the Eldorado had held the dubious distinction of being the world's biggest automobile that model year. It sucked gas by the gallon and used oil with the abandon of a Saudi sheikh, but Elizabeth loved every gaudy inch of it. It reminded her of Texas and money, things she had left behind.
    “What happened?” Ellstrom asked, an extra touch of male arrogance sneaking into his voice. “Run out of gas?”
    “No. It just sort of . . . acts up every once in a while,” Elizabeth hedged. Bone-headed male smugness was something she could do without tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough when she went in search of someone to tow the car back up onto the road. It would be a man, and he would pat her on the head and snicker to himself. In her opinion, the Lord had not seen fit to create nearly enough female tow-truck drivers. But then, he was a man.
    “Have any ideas on who might have killed him?” she asked, steering the conversation back on track.
    “Do you?” Ellstrom's eyes darted her way. “You're the witness.”
    “Me? Sugar, I didn't witness much more than my own regurgitated Snickers bar. The place could have been crawling with killers. I sure as hell didn't stick around