Proof of Innocence

by Patricia McLinn

  Maggie smiled to indicate the judge won his point.

  It was an effort. Because she should have been thinking about the effect this relationship might have had on the trial. Instead, she’d been thinking about the strange upbringing of J.D. Carson. And how he’d found such differing champions. Pan Wade, Anya Nouga, Dallas Monroe, Judge Blankenship.

  And she’d been realizing the sharp edge of her suspicion had dulled.

  Was it a result of extended exposure to people who believed in his innocence? Or was it something even more insidious?

  He was a sexually appealing male. God knew she wasn’t immune to the species — Roy proved that.

  Yeah, there it was. She was physically attracted to J.D. Carson.

  Which proved absolutely nothing.

  It made sense that the murderer of Pan and Laurel had appealed to them somehow. They certainly wouldn’t have met a troll out in the woods. Sexual appeal was a weapon some criminals wielded.

  Besides, what solid evidence pointed away from him now that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived? None.

  Charlotte bustled in with Henry Zales in tow. “Judge, you shouldn’t be out here in the damp. The rain is coming in the screens. You and Henry will be comfortable in the library.”

  “Henry,” Dallas said. “I hope to have a word—”

  Charlotte cut across. “Perhaps later. I’m taking Henry and the judge to the library now.”

  “These folks have some questions, Charlotte,” the judge said. “About Laurel.”

  “Again?” she muttered.

  Apparently not hearing, the judge continued, “We must help them every way we can to bring to justice the person who… who…”

  Zales took the judge’s arm. “Come along, Kemble, I want to test your memory on a case our fathers told us about when we were first practicing.”

  Charlotte would have followed, but Maggie took her arm, stepped in front of her, and said, “We’re glad your father’s encouraged you to cooperate.” She quickly tacked on, “We want to get to the bottom of the phone calls your sister was receiving.”

  “You asked about that already.”

  “We didn’t know for certain they existed. Now we do. So, I’m asking again.”

  “I don’t remember anything more about phone calls than I’ve told you.”

  “Did anything seem to be frightening Laurel, bothering her?”

  “Frightening her?” Charlotte repeated as if the thought were foreign. “No. As for bothering, all that bothered her was Eugene not acquiescing as fast as she wanted.”

  “We know Laurel was asking for an increase in her allow—”

  “Asking? Oh, no. She was demanding, using anything to get her way.”

  “What was she using?” Carson asked.

  “She was threatening to tell anyone who would listen about Eugene’s sexual inadequacies if he didn’t increase her allowance.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “Was that true?” Dallas’ head tipped in seemingly innocent curiosity.

  “I have no way of knowing,” Charlotte said precisely. “I know only what Laurel said. Now, I have to see to the judge, if you don’t mind.”

  Maggie released the other woman’s arm and she went.

  Dallas immediately took her elbow, guiding her inside. “Time to mingle, mingle, mingle, and hear what we can hear.”

  * * * *

  This was her opportunity to observe the interactions and connections Dallas and Carson knew in their bones.

  Maggie tucked herself in against the half-wall at the base of the stairs, with the main room open before her and the sunroom past it, the door to the library over her shoulder, the entry to the kitchen area down a short hallway to her left. From this spot she watched a few early departers slip out.

  At first, the individuals had moved as one through the rituals, held in a unified orbit by the gravity of the occasion. Now that they had partaken of food and drink — especially drink, conveyed by a half-dozen young men in white shirts and dark slacks — the bonds loosened.

  A husky voice said, “Fucking social event of the spring.” It was the red-head in the silk suit whom Scott called Robin.

  “Always is at Rambler Farm,” murmured the tousled-haired woman a half step behind her. Her slight smile could have been shy or malicious. Or both. “Whatever else you can say about her, Charlotte does know how to throw a party. Oh, excuse me, a memorial.”

  Both chuckled.

  “J.D. doesn’t look too broken up about Laurel,” Robin said. “Guess he won’t miss the favors she kept trying to bestow on him.”

  The other woman tittered. “Him and a lot of other guys.”

  “The widower won’t be mourning long, either. Renee won’t let Eugene screw up — or around — again. Did you hear about the will?”

  “No,” breathed the other. “What about it?”

  They moved out of earshot, showing no sign of noticing Maggie.

  Dallas, talking with Janice, caught sight of the women as they entered the living room, and made a commendable pirouette to put him on the far side of a floor lamp, out of their path. Clearly there were limits to his mingling.

  Sheriff Gardner crossed their path with the air of one doing his duty. Maggie thought he exchanged at least a few words with everyone in attendance. In between, his sharp brown eyes scanned the rooms as she was doing.

  When Maggie turned, she saw Judge Blankenship, in a leather wing chair, a half dozen other silver-haired men around him, in the library. Over the mantel was a large portrait of a smiling young woman flanked by two young girls, one rounded and solemn, the other blonde and pleased with herself.

  Eugene occupied a large chair by the fireplace in the main room. In a steady stream, people approached him, said a few words, then left. No one sat near him, or continued conversation. The only person she saw approach him more than once was Ed Smith, when Tagner otherwise would have been alone.

  Otherwise, Ed carried out tasks from his wife. Charlotte was in constant motion. Never in a hurry, but always attending to something, directing Ed and the help, connecting various groups, ushering new people into the library and easing out those she apparently thought had been there long enough.

  Renee, Doranna, Barry, Scott, Kevin Addington, and a couple other people seemed at ease by a grand piano that didn’t take much of a bite out of the large room. Rick Wade was in earnest conversation with a man Maggie hadn’t seen before.

  Looking around, she spotted Theresa Addington in the hallway, seated beside Mrs. Barrett.

  J.D. Carson had taken a position near French doors to the porch, closed now with the rain. The position provided him a good view, yet was set back enough that those circulating through the room could overlook him, if they chose. Most at least exchanged hellos, and a number made the detour for further conversation. All who did treated J.D. Carson with something she could only call respect.

  A lot of folks here think he never should have been tried — not all, but a lot. Sheriff Gardner had said.

  The woman in the suit and her companion headed across an open patch of oriental rug directly toward Carson. At that moment Maggie recognized a potential drawback to Carson’s position. There was no escaping anyone seeking him out.

  The woman in the suit put her hand on his arm, and sent a rapacious smile up into his face.

  The J.D. Carson of the trial returned. Cool, impregnable. He didn’t withdraw from the touch. He didn’t need to. Even from this distance it was clear the woman’s touch hadn’t truly reached him.

  “Ms. Frye?”

  Rick Wade. She hadn’t seen him approach.

  His eyes were bloodshot, putty colored blotches showed on his skin, as if he were under fluorescent lights. He’d deteriorated since last night.

  “Do you have a minute?” He looked from side to side, assessing if anyone was around to overhear them. He had her attention.

  “Certainly.”

  “The phone calls … Is there anything else you can tell m
e about them?”

  Did he mean calls she’d received? Had the Addingtons told him? More likely, they mentioned Pan receiving calls. Or he could have heard through the law enforcement grapevine.

  She kept her response wide open. “Like what?”

  “Like when they started for Pan and for Laurel.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have details to share.” She truly was sorry she didn’t have more details, not sorry about not sharing. “Were you aware of them receiving calls?”

  “Not Pan. I wouldn’t have known with Laurel, but I thought… That or—” He shot her a look, decided against what he’d started to say. “The calls could be a tie between Pan and Laurel. That’s been bothering me. They were different. Couldn’t be more different. Pan was kind and loyal and generous.”

  And Laurel wasn’t. His unspoken words were clear.

  “The calls are interesting,” she agreed. “But as an auxiliary deputy aren’t you assisting the sheriff in specifically investigating Laurel’s death?”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’re run off our feet. I’m just saying it needs looking into. A link. I’m not letting anything get by this time.” He stepped in closer, hatred snarling his voice. “That bastard is not going to keep walking around free. Or alive.”

  His certainty had returned since last night.

  “That’s the legal system’s job to decide, Wade,” she said sharply.

  He stepped back, seeming to collect his composure. “That’s right, it is.”

  He walked away, toward the back of the house. As she watched him, she was struck that both he and Carson had gotten bent out of shape about calls today.

  Though there’d been something else Wade had started to say then didn’t.

  Charlotte emerged from the library. Shelving questions raised by Wade, Maggie immediately stepped in front of her.

  “Charlotte, you’ve done a wonderful job with this. I can tell you’re a phenomenal hostess to make everyone welcomed during such a difficult time.”

  She was laying it on thick, but she hoped that might soften the other woman’s reserve.

  “Thank you.” Charlotte smiled mechanically, then took a step away.

  The wretched woman intended to pull her disappearing act again. In desperation, Maggie snatched a pastry off her buffet plate and held it up. “These are absolutely wonderful. What are they?”

  “Cranberry and brie puffs. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  An odd comment at a memorial, but that was for later consideration. Right now Maggie wanted to keep her here and keep her talking.

  “This is such a great opportunity for me to see Bedhurst society. It’s fascinating to watch the interactions.” She purposely let her gaze shift to J.D.

  In silence they watched a gray-haired man and a middle-aged woman drift over to him, as if a current carried them. The suited woman and her satellite walked away.

  “Oh, yes,” Charlotte said slowly, “J.D.’s quite popular with a certain element in Bedhurst. Surprising, some of them. Pan included. Suppose they’re caught by the sex, like animals in a trap.”

  Maggie had seen the trap. She wouldn’t step into it.

  Charlotte continued, “Although with Pan, it was more complicated than sex. Started so young between them, it had to be. That might have made it worse. The fool.” Maggie almost missed those two low words. “As for my sister, it was ridiculous for her to lust after him.”

  “Did he know?”

  “I don’t know how he could have helped it. Laurel was not subtle, certainly not in her efforts to seduce.”

  “Did she succeed?” It was important because of what it might mean for the investigation.

  “I have no idea. As much as possible, I saw to it that her dealings did not touch Rambler Farm.”

  Except for Charlotte’s husband.

  “You don’t like him — Carson?”

  Charlotte gave a ladylike hitch of her shoulders. “Like has nothing to do with it. Breeding is what counts in the end. Breeding and background.”

  Clearly Charlotte counted those as two strikes against J.D. Carson.

  “We’re all supposed to do the right thing. Only some people get applauded for it, like J.D., while others don’t. And then there are those who don’t need to do anything at all and still get applauded.” Charlotte faced her for the first time, studying her. “You’re like them, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “Pan and Laurel. Just like them. It all came easy. Never had to work—”

  Maggie could have laughed. Never had to work?

  “—Never had to work to be loved, either.” She frowned, but it was not at Maggie. Her focus had shifted. “Excuse me.”

  She was gone, taking the arm of one of the servers and speaking sharply, then winding among the clusters of guests. The server picked up a glass from the windowsill, glared at Charlotte’s unheeding back, then moved on.

  Never had to work to be loved, either.

  That sounded like what Allarene had heard Charlotte saying to Pan.

  Jealousy there, but how deep, how strong?

  She shimmied her shoulders.

  If this darn itch halfway between her left shoulder blade and her spine would stop tormenting her, she could think through all the ramifications. The need to scratch nearly blotted out everything. The newel post behind her was too low and she couldn’t reach herself without arm-twisting gymnastics and if she went to the restroom, she risked losing this vantage point.

  “Poor Maggie, all by yourself?” J.D. Carson’s hint of rough rumble came from behind her.

  She’d lost track of him.

  “Alone by choice.” she said, not turning. “And you?”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with you. Picking up interesting impressions?”

  He put his hand on her back. She jolted, but he renewed the contact. And then he scratched. The exact spot. She would not let herself shiver.

  “Nothing earth-shattering? You?” Her voice was even. Good.

  “As you say, nothing earth-shattering. A bit here and there.”

  “Like what?”

  Rather than answer, Carson stepped back. Maggie realized the flow of departures had picked up, clogging the hallway.

  “There you are, J.D.” Dallas came up to them with the judge and Scott with him. “Wondered if you’d mind driving Eugene home.”

  They all stepped closer to the side hallway to leave room for those heading out the door.

  “Don’t know how Charlotte came to overlook it when she dismissed the limo,” the judge said.

  “I’ll take him, Judge. No problem.”

  Dallas said, “Maggie, my dear, if you wouldn’t mind my riding with you—?”

  “I can take you, Dallas,” Scott said.

  “No, no. Maggie will oblige, I’m sure. But if you could take Mrs. Barrett home, Scott, that would good.”

  Discontent flashed across Scott’s face.

  “No, no, no, no need,” the woman fluttered.

  “Nonsense,” Dallas said. “You’re not walking all that way in the rain.”

  Eugene, flanked by Ed and Charlotte, approached slowly, as if he’d become an old man in the past few hours.

  “I’ll bring my truck around, Eugene.” J.D. offered. “It’s still raining some.”

  Before he followed through, Rick Wade strode into to the group and announced loudly, “It’s going to dry up tomorrow and it’ll be perfect golfing weather day after.”

  He looked around the now-still group as if issuing a challenge. Maggie saw only blank expressions.

  “I’m playing golf at the Laurelcrest Run Club in Lynchburg. You’re a member there, aren’t you, Eugene?”

  “Been a member for a decade,” the other man said with pride, his feeble demeanor sloughing away. “Most exclusive club in western Virginia.”

  Wade nodded, shifting his gaze from face to face. Over his shoulder, Maggie saw Renee in easy listening range. “That’s right. Very selective in its membership. And I’m lucky to ha
ve made the acquaintance of a member who’s invited me out to discuss certain matters while we play a round. Likes to get away from the office when he can, he said, but he’ll bring one of his investigators along. Telecommunications specialist. Business and pleasure.”

  What the heck was this about? Was this connected to what he’d started to say to her?

  Maybe Carson’s suspicions were infecting her, because she suddenly wondered if Wade could be trying to cover his tracks somehow. But how? What could he hope to accomplish by this?

  Silence greeted Wade’s speech, until Scott produced, “You could use a break, what with working so hard on the investigation.”

  “Yes, I have been working hard on the investigation.” The words sounded stilted. “Been going over Laurel’s phone records real, real close.”

  Great, Wade got the phone records, but they didn’t?

  Wade glared at Carson, still beside her.

  She turned. A flash of realization crossed Carson’s eyes, but disappeared even faster than it had come. And what he might be realizing, she had no clue.

  “And I’ve come to a conclusion.” Wade paused. If it was for a response, he didn’t get one. “Jealousy. That’s at the core of both these murders.”

  Carson met his former classmate’s eyes, impassive.

  “Spiteful, vicious jealousy,” Wade said.

  Maggie’s chest felt as if she were holding her breath, yet she knew she was breathing. Someone had to say something, do something.

  Scott gave a rattling ghost of a chuckle. “I won’t let jealousy get the best of me. I’ll be generous and say I hope the weather holds for a perfect day for golf, Rick.”

  “Yes, indeed. A good game of golf come spring is a godsend.” Dallas backed Scott’s effort to break the tension. “Go get your truck, J.D. And the rest of us will be taking our leave, Judge. Charlotte, as always, the hospitality of Rambler Farm was above equal…”

  In a stream of thanks, condolences, and farewells, they flowed out the front door of Rambler Farm.

  Commonwealth v. J.D. Carson

  Witness Oliver Zalenkia (prosecution)

  Direct Examination by ACA Margaret Frye