“Do some fancy footwork to get Jason off is what you mean.”
“No. Kate doesn’t work that way. Can we sit down here? I promise I won’t take but a minute more.” Bill swayed uncertainly, then collapsed into his chair as though his legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. David took a deep breath and sat in the client’s chair across from him. He leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs, clasped his hands under his chin and held Bill’s eyes. “Jason is the one who wants to be down here, but I wouldn’t let him come. He feels guilty as hell for letting Waneath walk away from him Saturday night. That’s all he did, and he’s going to have to live with it for the rest of his life. Let the jury decide whether he’s guilty of anything else. Punishing him for something he didn’t do is not going to bring Waneath back, and it’s tearing this town apart—tearing your family apart and mine as well.”
“What the hell do you mean, tearing my family apart?” Bill started to rise once more.
“You have another daughter,” David said quietly, knowing that he was venturing into forbidden territory. “She thinks you and her mother wish she was the one who died.”
“What?” Talley said. He sounded stunned.
“You lost a child, and she lost a sister. She needs you badly, and she’s scared to death that between your parking-lot forays and Mrs. Talley’s slapping Kate across the face...”
“She did what?” Talley surged to his feet.
David stood as well. He didn’t intend to get socked sitting in his chair. Bill was near breaking. “At the jail after Jason’s bail hearing she slapped Kate across the face. I assumed you knew.”
“Oh, Lord!”
David took two steps back. “I came to tell you how sorry I am, we are, for your loss, and to tell you that my son is not responsible. You may not believe me now, but one day you will. When that day comes, I hope we can share your grief. And to ask you not to let your anger spill over onto Jason’s lawyers. They’re just doing their jobs.”
Bill’s chest heaved. David didn’t know whether with anger or unshed tears. He decided not to wait around to find out. From the doorway he said over his shoulder, “In the meantime, the daughter you have left is a very fine person who needs you badly. Thanks for seeing me, Bill.”
He walked back down the hall past the men who lounged in their cubicles in mock relaxation. With every step, David felt certain he’d hear Big Bill’s roar giving a command to attack, but nothing happened. He climbed into Dub’s car, cranked the engine and backed out of the parking space while a dozen pairs of eyes followed him. He didn’t begin breathing properly until he hit the highway. Had he made things worse? Had Kate been right?
Right or wrong, he had to try. Chances were she’d never find out what he’d done. Here he was already keeping secrets from her. Damn.
AFTER LUNCH, Kate left Arnold to catch up on the sleep he had missed the night before. The Christmas carols playing in the square reminded her that she had not yet bought a single present for anyone—not that she had many people to buy for. The office took care of the client presents, and for years the partners had eschewed giving one another meaningless gifts. She still sent her college roommate a book for each of her three children, and there was her mother...
Now there was David. And Jason. And Dub. And Arnold. As good friends as she and Arnold had been previously, these last few days in Athena had brought them closer.
The best present she could give the crew from Long Pond was to get the charges against Jason dropped before Christmas. Monday morning she planned to go at that little chore full bore. Allenby had very little evidence connecting Jason to the crime. With luck, the autopsy report from Memphis would arrive today with some hard facts that would help Jason’s case. With luck...and a good deal of prayer on her part.
Wandering down the sidewalks of Athena past the small antique shops, the hardware store advertising ax handles and red wagons, smelling the fresh southern pine and holly, even feeling the soft December breeze ruffling her hair, tossed her back into childhood Christmases when there were packages galore.
She did not want to wake up on Christmas morning alone in Barbados or Aspen. She wanted to wake up in David’s big bed and know that there were scads of packages downstairs under a fresh Christmas tree—none of this artificial stuff—heavy with decorations and lights and reaching tc the peak of his great-room ceiling.
She stared in shop windows. What on earth could she buy any of these people? She didn’t know them, their tastes, their sizes, even what or whether they read. And suddenly it became very important to spend some money on Christmas now, today, this afternoon, before she lost her nerve or her spirit. She longed to buy David something beautiful and frivolous and expensive.
She hopped into the Navigator and drove out of town toward Long Pond. Neva Hardin would know what to get.
She walked up to the front door of Long Pond shortly after two in the afternoon. According to David, Dub had begun to take naps in the afternoon. With luck she wouldn’t see him. He wouldn’t even have to know she’d come to the house.
No such luck. The door was opened, not by Neva, but by Dub himself. He did not look overjoyed to see her.
“What do you want? Jason’s not here.”
“I know that. Actually, I came to see Neva.”
“Neva? What the hell for?”
For a moment, she thought he would bar her way, then he stepped aside. “Hell, come on in. Neva’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks. Before I go hunt her up, I wanted to apologize to you.”
“You lied to me,” Dub said. “Made me look like a damn fool.”
“I didn’t lie. I simply didn’t volunteer the whole truth.”
“Huh. That’s lawyer guff.” He blocked her way to the kitchen by simply not moving out of the hall. She could either slip past him or stand and talk.
Okay, that’s what he wanted. “Frankly, I didn’t stop you because I couldn’t figure out how to do it without making things worse. And I never thought Brenda Starr on the local paper would find out who I used to be and publish the facts for the world to see.”
“She sure found out easy. You sure you didn’t tell her? You or that Arnold?”
“I never made a secret of my name or my first marriage even though I went back to my maiden name after the divorce. If she checked me out in anything that had all my names, she’d have seen Canfield listed as one of them. It’s not that usual a name. Enough to set off any decent reporter’s radar, I suppose. I’ve never found they needed more than a hint to go haring off over what they hope is scandal.”
“Yeah. Scandal.”
“Not that this was a scandal. Admit it, Dub, you’re mad at me because I didn’t tell you who I was before you mouthed off, not because it matters in any substantive way.”
“Well, shoot, never did matter before, when David’s ex didn’t have a face or a name.” He dropped his head.
“Isn’t that what generals say? Never put a face on your enemy. It’s very hard to massacre someone real. Some faceless nitwitted girl in New York who tossed David out on his ear was a figure of fun—just somebody Melba pulled a good trick on.”
“Same’s true for you,” Dub said. He walked into his study. Intrigued, Kate followed him to find him staring up at the portrait over the fireplace. “You didn’t know Melba face-to-face.”
“No, I didn’t, and yes, it is hard to hate someone you put a face on. I could hate Melba like poison before. Now that I’ve met you and Jason, now that I know what she went through, I’m casting around for someone to hang all my anger on. Unfortunately, the only person handy any longer is myself.”
“Yeah. My daddy used to say folks spend their lives doing dumb things and trying to make out like they’re smart.”
“Your daddy was absolutely right.”
“About that. Not about much else.” He sounded desperately tired, and Kate noticed a twitch at the corner of his right eye. Beneath his farmer’s tan his skin had taken on a yellow sheen.
He sank into his big chair without waiting for her to sit, and stared at the fire without speaking. Kate walked over and sat on the leather love seat across from him.
“Funny,” he said, still with his eyes on the fire, “I spent my whole life trying to keep Long Pond and my family out of the way of scandal. Don’t know why. We been scandal-prone long as I can remember, from my uncle Willy who got caught up in Peacock Alley wearing a dress, to Momma’s burning the house down ’cause she was drunker’n Cooter Brown, to Melba’s coming home from New York knocked up by a married man. And now this—this mess—with Waneath.”
“I grew up with secrets, too,” Kate said softly.
“You are gonna get the boy off, aren’t you?” Dub said, raising his eyes to hers.
Kate was surprised to see that they were red-rimmed, as though he’d been crying. “I hope so.”
“Lord, so do I.”
“So, am I forgiven for keeping my status from you?”
“I’d forgive the devil himself if he could get Jason out of this mess.”
“I’m doing my best, and so is Arnold. Don’t underestimate him. He’s the real mover and shaker. I just stand up in court and run my mouth. He’s the ventriloquist. I’m just the dummy.”
“Shoot, I don’t believe that for a second.” For the first time, Dub’s mouth twitched in a smile. “When you leaving?”
“Can’t wait, huh? Give me a couple more working days before you kick me out. The autopsy report’s due any minute from Memphis. With any luck it’ll have enough evidence to clear Jason.”
Dub sat up, his eyes narrowed. “How you figure that?”
“No idea, but what passed for an autopsy here didn’t do much except take blood and urine samples and say that Waneath appeared to be pregnant and to have met her death by blunt trauma, probably with a tire iron. Let’s hope a full autopsy by a qualified pathologist will add some facts to that. Facts that help rather than hurt—things like analysis of the rust on the tire iron. Blood-typing of the fetus. Worst case—we won’t learn anything helpful. Best case—we’ll have some indications leading to another suspect.”
“Can’t have that boy standing trial for something he didn’t do, even if it does keep him at Long Pond instead of California.”
“Keep your fingers crossed. Now, I really did come to see Neva.” She stood, but Dub did not stand with her. For a southern gentleman of his generation, that denoted sheer exhaustion or complete oblivion. She left him staring at the fire with his hands on his knees.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KATE PULLED UP at the motel and picked up the flat package from the back seat. Even after her visit with Neva, she’d only been able to come up with a single present, and that one was for Arnold. In one of Athena’s small antique shops she’d found a framed Daumier print of a French nineteenth-century lawyer. Arnold would love it.
But she’d found nothing for David. She wondered for a moment how he’d react if she were to wrap herself up and tie a bow around her waist.
The problems between them hadn’t been expunged by one night of passion, no matter how glorious. She was afraid he was right when he said she could never fully trust him again. And that would destroy any chance they had for happiness together.
He didn’t deserve that.
“Mrs. Mulholland?”
Kate turned to see Myrlene trotting down the walkway waving a thick manila envelope. “Momma said this came in the mail for you. I thought you might want it right away.”
Kate took it. The autopsy report. “Thanks, Myrlene. I definitely do.”
“You look like you could use an extra hand,” Myrlene said. “Here, let me take that.” She took Arnold’s print while Kate dug in her purse for the room key.
“Thanks. Just put it on the bed.”
“Okay.” Myrlene lingered, obviously looking for a little gossip.
Kate, who longed to slit open that envelope, tried to keep the impatience out of her voice. “You know that Jason’s out working with Jimmy?”
“Yeah. He called me at lunch. Going to take most of the day to replace that flywheel. Mr. Canfield ought to buy a new truck. That one’s got almost two hundred thousand miles on it.”
“No doubt you’re right.” Kate smiled, but did not sit down. She fought the urge to shove Myrlene out the door and slam it behind her.
“Well,” Myrlene said. “Guess I’ll get back to work. Saw you with Mr. Canfield this morning. He sure is a hunk.” She turned with her hand on the doorknob. “Funny, the most eligible hunks in town are three generations of the same family.” She shrugged, smiled and left.
Kate grabbed the phone and dialed Arnold’s room. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Autopsy report’s here.”
“Right. Don’t open it until I get my pants on.”
DAVID STOPPED by the cotton gin, saw that there was no one there—not surprising. The cotton had all been baled and shipped. No reason to work night and day this late in the year. Maintenance could start on Monday morning. He had a list on his computer of parts to be ordered for the farm equipment. He drove around the barren fields aimlessly, unable to focus on anything except Kate.
Finally, he pulled into a small grocery and bought himself a cold drink and a ham sandwich. Then he drove down by the lake to eat a solitary lunch. He did love winter in the South. Plenty of people hated it. Barren trees, too much mud, weather that flip-flopped from warm and sunny to black glare ice and sleet in an hour. He didn’t want to leave all this for life in a city. But he also didn’t want to lose Kate again.
He sighed, gathered up the remnants of his meal and dropped everything into a trash barrel. Then he climbed back into Dub’s car. As he leaned over to slide behind the wheel, a flash of red caught his eye. Dub was downright finicky about his cars. David reached down in front of the passenger seat and picked up the small red oval object.
For a moment he had no idea what it was. Then he felt a rush of adrenaline as his subconscious mind identified it. He’d seen that color enough times, seen talons like that every time Waneath came over to visit Jason. It was an acrylic fingernail. Waneath’s color.
He closed his eyes and felt that sandwich threaten to come back up.
Waneath had lost a fingernail the night she died. The sheriff had scoured the spot where Jason parked, scoured the crime scene, but had not found it. He predicated that she had lost it fighting with her attacker.
Now here it was, lying on the floor of Dub’s car. That could mean only one thing. Waneath had been in this car the night she died.
But why? When? Why had Dub not mentioned it? Jason never drove the Cadillac. Besides, he’d been driving his own car that night.
Thoughts tumbled through his brain as he started the car and backed out into the road.
It was time for Dub to answer a few questions.
“GIVE IT HERE!” Arnold said, and reached for the still-unopened envelope.
“Well, don’t stand there, open it!” Kate said as she plumped down on her bed. Arnold pulled the sheaf of papers and photographs from the envelope and ran his eye down them quickly.
“She was barely two months pregnant,” Arnold said. “That lets Jason off the hook. Oh, God, look at what the first autopsy missed.”
“What?”
“The pregnancy. It was ectopic.” He dropped the papers on the bed and walked out of the room.
Kate found him standing across the parking lot staring up at the bare December trees.
He turned to look at her as though he didn’t see her. “Sorry, Kate.”
“Arnold, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I don’t think about Shirley for weeks, and I think I’m getting better, and then something like this...”
“Can you face it? Do you want to go back to Atlanta?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He put his arm around her.
The gesture startled her. He was not a touchy person. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. She felt his body stiffen into resistance, then he rel
axed and gripped her back.
After a moment he broke the hug and stepped back. “Won’t that raise a few Athena eyebrows!” He glanced at the motel-office window. The curtain fluttered, and he curled his lip at it. “It will be all over town in a nanosecond that Jason’s lawyers are canoodling on the lawn.”
She linked her arm through his. “Passion in the pines?” “Let’s get back to work.” They started back to the room, its door still open.
“So, what else did the death doctors in Memphis find out about our corpse?” Arnold picked up the report again.
Kate noted that his hands shook slightly. He was considerably more upset than he let on, but she took her cue from him. He wanted glib, then glib it would be.
“I’ll be damned!” he said. He shoved Kate over and sat beside her. “Look at this. There was pink dust in her hair.”
Kate grabbed the report from his hand and ran her eye down it. Then she glanced up at Arnold. “We’ve been seeing this all wrong.”
“We’re not the only ones. You know what this could mean, don’t you?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“We have an obligation to our client. We have to clear him any way we can. We’ll have to turn this over to the D.A.”
“Not until we’re certain of what we’re talking about.” She stood and pulled open the bureau drawer. She pulled out the crime-scene photos and tossed them on the bed. “Now these pictures begin to make a little sense. Look at them.”
Arnold picked up the photos and fanned through them. “What am I looking for?”
“Her knees. And her feet and legs.”
“So? She apparently walked away without her panty hose.”
“They were in Jason’s car, but we already know that. That’s not what I mean.” Kate leaned over the bed. “I never really paid attention before. See the bruises on her knees? They were made before she died or the blood wouldn’t have pooled there the way it did. And the spots of mud and dirt on her legs? And the scratches? They’re just visible, but the autopsy makes a note that she has several small scratches from briars or something on her ankles and calves.”
Fathers and Sons (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 23