“I was never privy to Laurel’s activities, as I’ve told you.” Disapproval snaked through Charlotte’s voice. “More than once.”
“Just do the best you can, my dear, that’s all we ask,” Dallas said, pouring it on. “What we’d like to know is why folks at Rambler Farm would have cause to be callin’ Laurel on her cell phone at one, two, even three in the morning.”
There was silence. Maggie’s head came up from the papers she’d been studying. Light filtering through the blinds glinted red off her hair. She sat straighter, looking toward Dallas, leaving him only her profile.
Charlotte’s voice her back from other thoughts. “No one was calling Laurel,” she said. “Except Laurel. She was forever losing her cell phone, and that’s how she’d find it. She’d go to the closest phone to call her own number, listen for the ring. All hours of the day and night.”
“Thank you, Charlotte. That’s what we needed to know. You’ve been most helpful, my dear.” After another exchange of pleasantries, Dallas clicked off the speakerphone. “It could account for calls from Rambler Farm numbers to Laurel.”
Maggie rubbed her eyes. “Or it could have been Ed calling her. Some of those calls lasted a minute or more. And there’s what those workmen said about Laurel coming on to Ed.”
Dallas heaved a sigh. “Well, this doesn’t get us any farther down the road, does it, then. We got Eugene callin’ her, and folks at Rambler Farm, which could be Laurel herself, but could also be Charlotte or Ed or even the judge. As for the courthouse, it could be most anybody in town.”
“Including Wade,” J.D. said, aware of an arrival in the hall. Scott passed the open doorway to greet the newcomer.
“Or you,” Maggie shot back. “You have business there as a lawyer.”
“Yes, I do. And—”
“Maggie!” Scott’s shout came from the hallway.
Commonwealth v. J.D. Carson
Witness Oliver Zalenkia (prosecution)
Cross-Examination by Mr. Monroe
Q. Could you determine who put the paper in Pan Wade’s mouth?
A. We could not.
Q. Could you ascertain if the paper was put in Pandora Addington Wade’s mouth before or after death?
A. We could not.
Q. Thank you. No more questions.
Theresa Addington (prosecution)
Redirect Examination by Ms. Frye
Q. Mrs. Addington, you heard the testimony that a piece of paper was found in your daughter’s mouth by the medical examiner?
A. Yes.
Q. Was your daughter in the habit of eating or chewing on paper.
A. No. Never. Not even as a child.
* * * *
Roy stood in the office doorway with Scott behind him.
“I told him you were in a meeting,” Scott said.
“We are. Go away, Roy.”
“Screw your meeting,” Roy said. “We need to talk. Now.”
She faced him. Her voice was cool enough to chip. “No, we don’t. You need to listen. This is over. Over.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.”
“It’s way past being about sorry. The fact that you haven’t figured that out yet is part of the basic problem.”
“Jesus, you are such a bitch.”
Maggie’s eyes cut to J.D. then away.
A fraction of a second, yet a niggling discomfort sifted through him. He hadn’t moved. He had, however, shifted to a higher level of alertness.
Roy was too angry to notice. But she had.
He didn’t like that.
“I can take care of myself,” she said looking at Roy, but telling him.
“Of course, the great independent Maggie Frye can always take care of herself. Herself and the rest of the world.” Roy’s sarcasm was as subtle as a battle axe. “What’s hard about it, after all? People fall into one category or the other — innocent or guilty. And the all-knowing Maggie decides which box they go into. Clear-cut and tidy, like your cases. That’s how you treat people. Assess the crime. Weigh the evidence. Prosecute to the full extent of the law. Nothing less than perfect will do.”
He slapped his hand on the back of the file-loaded chair by the door. No one else moved.
“Well, here’s a bulletin, Maggie. You’re not so damned perfect. Not even the great Maggie Frye is perfect.”
“Roy, it’s time for you to leave.”
Underneath her calm was an edge of impatience, almost disdain that J.D. saw acting on Roy’s control like acid on a rope.
“That eats at you, doesn’t it, knowing you’re not perfect? Ever since you broke down on the stand and let a murderer go free.”
Maggie flinched. An involuntary motion quickly controlled.
“You’d think you’d be more understanding of other people’s failings. Especially with you — of all people — going to this murderer’s place alone last night. That won’t do your career any good. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Scott snapped a look at J.D., but Maggie never even blinked. “You’ve been following me? It’s none of your business where I go. Got that, Roy? None.”
“Unless a fuck is why you went out there.”
“You’ve been drinking. I can smell it from here. Don’t drive like that.”
“I’m not drunk. Not yet. But I will be. Because it’ll take gallons of booze to get the bitter taste of Maggie Frye out of my mouth.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
None of them had moved when Scott returned to the room, the sound of the bolt indicating he’d locked the door after Roy.
“Maggie, don’t let that guy bother you.” Scott would have put his hand on her shoulder, but she shifted away. “You’re wonderful, caring, generous. He’s a jerk. He doesn’t see—”
“I’m sorry for the interruption,” she said precisely. “What else can we glean from these phone records?”
Dallas stood. “You and J.D. keep checkin’ them. Scott and I need to get to the courthouse — other work, you know. But you two keep on talkin’. About the phone numbers and what they might mean.”
* * * *
10:31 a.m.
“The important thing is they catch the killer. It will give you and the judge closure — well, not closure, but at least knowing Laurel’s murderer has been found.”
Ed had been talking for some time. He’d said he stayed home from work today to be available to help her. But she didn’t need help.
Except for him to stop talking at her.
As he drew in a breath, Charlotte cut in. “They’ll never find out. There are too many choices. She was making it with every presentable man in the county. Marriage didn’t stop that, and getting separated only made it worse. They might as well start with the county phone book for suspects.”
“Charlotte,” Ed said in a strained, hushed voice. And there was no reason after all. Nobody was here. “Don’t say that. Don’t tarnish your sister—”
“Tarnish? My God, how do you tarnish a whore?”
A power she had never known infused her bones.
He winced. “I know you and Laurel never saw eye-to-eye, but there was good in her. And all that life—”
She cut across his words, harsh and grating. “You were dreaming about fucking her again.”
“Charlotte—” She saw him belatedly absorb the last word. “What? What?”
He was panicked, desperate.
“Don’t be a fool, Ed. You think I didn’t know you’d fucked her? Or should I say she fucked you? And she did, didn’t she?” She chuckled a little. “Fucked you, then fucked you again by tossing you aside the way she did everyone. I suppose you were dreaming of her every time we fucked.”
“No. Charlotte—”
She saw he was appalled even more by her matter-of-fact calm than by her words. And he was thoroughly horrified by her words. Interesting to watch. For a while.
“It doesn’t matter. I knew what I was getting when I took you. But I did take you. And you will rise to
a level I deserve. Laurel’s dead. Fucking her will no longer be an issue or—”
“I didn’t — after we were married — never, Charlotte. I swear to you — never.”
She considered him. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. But that Frye woman…”
“Maggie?” He looked confused.
“Yes, Maggie,” she mimicked. She tapped her pen against her chin. “Yes, Maggie. Can’t have you fucking her. Have to do something about that.”
* * * *
“…so I hustled Scott and myself out of there to see if nature would take its course, and came here to acknowledge you are a marvel, woman, to have seen that. Evelyn, marry me.”
Dallas held up a hand to halt her reply.
“No, you said your piece before. It’s my turn. I won’t run for Commonwealth’s Attorney again. Don’t know I’ll keep practicin’ at all. This situation…” He cleared his throat. “But I’ve still got some life left in me, and long as there is, I want to spend it with you. You … make me happy. I didn’t think that would ever happen to me again.”
She propped her hands on her hips, but he saw a smile pulling at her mouth. “Well, we can’t have it any other way than Dallas Herbert Monroe happy, now can we? There’s probably a law saying that.”
“Damn right.”
She swatted his shoulder as she stepped into his arms. “Watch your language.”
He kissed her. “Does this mean you’ll marry me.”
“No.”
“Evelyn—”
“Don’t you lawyer-voice me, Dallas Herbert.”
“Evelyn—”
Her gaze came up, warning him not to pursue the subject.
“Do you think the furniture in the parlor should be reupholstered?” He had the pleasure of knowing he’d surprised her. Not an easy achievement.
“Some should be reupholstered,” she started slowly. “Some should be thrown out.”
“Thrown out! That’s…” He subsided under her arching eyebrow. “Will you take care of it?”
“No.”
He supposed turnabout was fair play when it came to surprise.
He reviewed what he’d said. Ah. His infelicitous phrasing had pushed the task into what she considered employer-employee relations.
“Would you care to redecorate the house to suit your taste, Evelyn?”
“Our taste. Yes. I will see to that.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Maggie tapped her fingers on the table, the sound breaking a good half hour of silence as they’d studied the phone records, making notes, pretending Roy Isaacson had never burst in and said the things he’d said.
J.D. looked at her.
Immediately, she said, “Interesting Laurel was killed Saturday night.”
He considered that. “Because her habits meant she was likely not to be missed right away.”
“Possibly. Or possibly because it would prevent her from attending another Sunday gathering at Rambler Farm.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Did Charlotte ever have a crush on you?”
“Where did that come from?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Prosecutor. The answer is: Not that I was aware of. Only emotion Charlotte ever showed toward me was disapproval.”
“Oh.”
“You’re disappointed.”
“Not disappointed. Just … I keep thinking about Rick Wade saying jealousy is at the bottom of all this.”
“Maybe you should talk to Wade then.”
His tone made her look up. But he had his reactions under control again.
“These murders have some of the hallmarks of jealousy,” she persisted. “Both victims could have accrued a monumental lump of jealousy: the popular, pretty girl and the sexy bombshell.”
“You’re thinking Charlotte might have been pining for me all these years. Murdered Pan to clear the way, then waited four and a half years — marrying someone else in the meantime — to murder her own sister on the off chance my fancy went that way? Shouldn’t she have gotten rid of Ed?”
“Maybe she didn’t consider him an impediment,” she said tartly, clearly irked at his sarcasm. “And it wasn’t just an off chance your fancy might turn to Laurel, now was it?”
Figured she’d hear about that. “You’ve plugged into the Bedhurst gossip surprisingly well for an outsider.”
“Why were you keeping it a secret that Laurel came on to you?”
He laughed, catching her arrested look. “Some secret in this county. Especially since she did it twice at Shenny’s.”
“What did she do?” Was her voice too controlled?
“She draped herself over the bar in front of me.” His hand had been resting palm up on the bar at the moment she stretched across it, fitting her breast into his palm. She’d slid her free hand over his thigh and into his crotch, cupping and squeezing. “I said no thank you.” He’d picked her up, held her away from him, set her on another stool and left.
Maggie said nothing, but he saw her mind going.
“It didn’t mean anything. She came on to about every male in the county at one time or another. Jealous?” He kept it light.
She studied him with her serious, intelligent eyes a moment before saying, “Not at all. I am wondering how Eugene felt about all this.”
In other words, had Eugene rid himself of his unfaithful wife and duplicated Pan’s murder in order to throw suspicion on J.D.?
If that was the scenario she had in mind, she was still thinking he murdered Pan.
Maggie pushed back her chair and began pacing.
After a few minutes, he said, “What are you thinking?”
“Charlotte hated her sister.”
“As kids? Yeah.”
She pivoted to face him. “You knew? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m not in any position to say people don’t change from what they were as kids.”
“What was Charlotte like as a kid?”
“Unhappy.”
“So who wasn’t? Tell me something new.”
“Pan wasn’t.” He’d thought about that. He’d thought it was what pushed her to befriend him. “She had this huge reservoir of happy most folks didn’t. But the last couple years of her life, with her marriage draining away her happy like a dam left open, the waterline dropped low enough to reveal the rocky fears and tangled doubts.”
That had rattled her. He’d tried to tell her it was the same for everybody. But she didn’t have experience to fall back on. Maybe if she’d had more troubles in her life she’d have handled Wade differently.
More the way Laurel had brought Eugene to heel.
“Laurel wasn’t unhappy, either,” he added.
“Maybe that was their blind spot,” Maggie murmured.
“Blind spot?”
“I was remembering what Charlotte said about Laurel’s blind spot being that she thought how people responded to her on the surface was how they truly felt. Maybe lack of unhappiness made her vulnerable in a way. Her and Pan.”
After a pause, he said, “Teddie, too.
He knew Maggie was studying him. Watching his face as he’d thought his thoughts about Pan. That didn’t bother him. She wouldn’t read anything.
What bothered him was his reaction. Tightening zinged toward fullness. There’d be no missing it.
Color rose up her throat — the color of heat. It smoked her eyes.
She pivoted. Back to pacing.
“So, Charlotte was unhappy,” she said. “Tell me about that.”
“I’m no psychologist.”
He was irked. At himself. At her.
Complications. Definite complications. And he couldn’t afford any.
“You’re observant enough. And don’t tell me it’s only of woods and animals. I’ve read your military evaluations — you were good at handling people. You have to be observant to do that.”
“Charlotte and I didn’t exactly hang out together.”
/> “That’s no excuse. You didn’t hang out with anyone.” She threw that over her shoulder. “You were a loner. But you watched everyone. Come on, Carson. You wanted to be on this investigation, well this is a way you can help.”
She came back toward him, scowling with every step. He saw she thought she was going to stop in front of him, but she changed her mind two strides away. Instead, she started her outbound path again.
“What about the rest of them, the ones Doranna mentioned, how’d they get along with Charlotte? Any trouble there?”
“Nothing unusual I ever saw or heard.”
“Scott? Do they have a history?”
“Not much of one. Same school. Same group of kids. That’s all. Why ask about him?”
“You’re all about the same age. Grew up together. What about Rick?”
He considered that, shook his head. “Same as the rest as far as I know.”
“Anybody else? Eugene’s older, but he said she came on to him, too, after the trial. See any of that?”
“I wasn’t exactly the center of Bedhurst’s social doings, you know. Working on the cabin, reading law, getting my head on straight. Each a full-time occupation.”
“C’mon, Carson.
“Charlotte was a loner. An outsider. Except at Rambler Farm.”
“Like you?”
“The opposite—” He stopped. “Maybe some like me. But the judge’s daughter, and she held that like a banner in front of her. She got the grades, worked on every committee, volunteered for everything. Never relaxed.”
“Laurel?”
“Party girl. Dated early and often. Skated close to the line — with flunking, with the law.”
“And the judge adored her while he barely sees his older daughter?”
He thought of the man who had sat in judgment of his mother’s transgressions. Transgressions not so different from what Laurel Blankenship Tagner had committed.
“Yeah. Laurel was his blind spot.”
“Sounds to me like Charlotte might have motive for wanting her sister out of the way.”
“Based on what they were like as kids? Doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”
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