"Strange him not being around, wouldn't you say, Bill?"
Lauters was at Dr. Perry's house. After he struck his deal with the devil, he rode back into town and stopped by Perry's for some dinner and conversation. The dinner was good-smoked ham, roasted potatoes, apple pie-but the conversation was lacking.
"Everything about Claussen is strange to me," Lauters said, lighting one of the doctor's cigars. "If he ran off it suits me fine."
Perry stroked his mustache. "But did he? That's the question."
"What're you getting at, Doc?"
Perry licked his lips, thinking it out carefully before speaking. "You rushed out of here this afternoon saying you were going to take care of him. Remember? And now no one can find him. Claussen's not one to miss services. He takes his religion a might serious, if you know what I mean."
"Are you saying I had something to do with it?"
"Did you?"
Lauters frowned. "Goddammit, Doc, what do you think I did, kill him?"
Perry sat back in his chair, staring at the darkness outside the window. "I hope not, Bill, I truly do. But when you left here today you looked, well, like a man capable of just about anything."
"I didn't kill him," Lauters maintained.
Perry looked at him with steely eyes. "Then what did you do?"