* * *Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside. Neal put down the dish he was washing and rinsed his hands. Susan had driven to Captain Cook for groceries that morning while he stayed home to clean up, but it was too early for her to be back and they weren't her footsteps anyway. He dried his hands and was already headed for the front door when someone knocked on it.
The man standing outside wore a khaki uniform and a revolver He consulted the manila envelope in his hand and said, "I'm looking for, uh—Neal R. Tate."
"That's me."
"I'm with the constable's office, Mr. Tate." The man held out the envelope. "I'm here to deliver this."
"What is it?" Neal asked, taking it.
"I don't know. I'm just delivering it for the court."
The man left, his boots clumping on the stairs. Neal
