Justice Delayed

by Patricia Bradley

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Stephanie sniffed the air as he walked closer. “You smell like a brewery.”

  Maggie got a whiff of alcohol when he walked by her. “I think I’ll go to the house.”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No! Please stay.”

  Maggie would much rather be somewhere else, but she did as Stephanie asked and focused on the armature.

  Jimmy planted his feet, but that didn’t keep him from swaying. “Ah, you know you’re glad to see me.”

  Stephanie’s fingers stilled. “You’re drunk, and you’re not supposed to be here. If my parents come by, they’ll call the police. Now, leave.”

  “No. We gotta talk. I wanna marry you.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small ring box. “I just picked this up.”

  Maggie saw that tears rimmed Stephanie’s eyes as she focused on the horse’s leg.

  “Well, I don’t want to marry you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t keep your promises. Here it is, two in the afternoon, and you’re already soused. You can’t control yourself or your temper when you’re drinking.”

  “I’m not drunk. Had a couple shots, that’s all. I’d never hurt you, Steph.”

  She touched her cheek. “You already did.”

  He dropped to his knees beside the table where she was working. “I didn’t mean to. I . . . I just saw you with that guy, and something snapped. I love you. You have to know that.”

  He turned to Maggie, his gray eyes pleading for her help.

  “Tell Steph I won’t hurt her.”

  Goose bumps raised on Maggie’s arms. She didn’t like being a party to this. “Why don’t you go home and sober up? Then she might talk to you.”

  “No. I want to talk now!”

  Both women flinched as his voice boomed in the room.

  “And I told you I don’t want to talk to you. We’re over with.” She splayed her hands. “Done. Finished. Understand?”

  He reached for her, almost knocking the sculpture off the table. She shoved him away. “Get out of here until you get sober.”

  “I’ll quit. I promise.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ve heard that before. There’s no future with you. I told you I’m not spending my life wondering where you are, if you’re drunk and maybe driving.” She looked at the ring box in his hand. “How did you get to the jewelry store?”

  He shrugged and looked toward the ceiling. “Not gonna tell you.”

  “You drove. You could have killed somebody. Now go home, or I’ll call the police myself.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “No. I’m not leaving. Not until you say you’ll marry me and take this ring.”

  She jerked away from him and marched to the phone on the wall. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave.”

  He lunged toward her. Maggie screamed as Stephanie stumbled, hitting her head on a worktable. Maggie froze, and then somehow Laura was in the room, shoving Jimmy away.

  “Call 911,” Laura shouted.

  The words galvanized Maggie, and she grabbed the phone. When the operator answered, she gave the house address and described what had happened.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Tears ran down Jimmy’s face. “I promise, I didn’t . . .”

  “Well you did.” Maggie wet a cloth and knelt beside Laura. Stephanie was so pale. “I called 911, and an ambulance is on the way.”

  “Good. She hit her head. Can you get some ice from the fridge?”

  Stephanie’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Call them back and tell them not to come. I’m all right.” She tried to sit up and grabbed her head. “Where’s Jimmy?”

  Laura sat back on her feet. “Sitting on the sofa, mumbling something about not meaning to hurt you. Now, lay still. And we’re not calling them back. I’m sure the police will come too.”

  “I wish you hadn’t done that. He didn’t do it. I fell.”

  Maggie stared at Stephanie. Why was she lying for him? “You didn’t fall. He shoved you down.”

  To this day, Maggie didn’t understand why Stephanie kept insisting that she had stumbled over a block of clay. She turned to David. “When the police arrived, she held to that story. At that time I hadn’t dealt with anything like that and couldn’t make sense out of it. Later I realized she felt bad about breaking up with him and didn’t want to see him go to jail.”

  14

  ON THE STEPS OF THE CJC,Will checked to see if he had a message from the highway patrolman who had investigated Larry Ray Johnson’s accident, and he did. The patrolman could meet with him at one. He thought about calling David again but decided to wait until he knew more.

  It was ten thirty, and the site of the accident was an hour and a half away. He’d be pushing it to stop and question Spencer Delaney, but with only three days until Jimmy’s execution, every minute counted right now. He dialed the number Laura had given him for her husband.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Delaney, this is Sergeant Will Kincade with the MPD. I spoke with your wife and she gave me your number.”

  “Okay,” he said. “What do you want?”

  Background noises indicated he was likely still at the coffee shop with Jared Donovan. “I’d like a few minutes of your time. Do you mind if I drop by the coffee shop? My questions won’t take long.”

  Silence stretched over the line. “What’s this in reference to?”

  “A case I’m working on.”

  “I can tell you anything you want to know over the phone.”

  “I see. Is Mr. Donovan with you? I really wanted to speak with him as well.”

  Silence again, then Delaney cleared his throat. “We’re at Java Junkies on Union.”

  “That’s where your wife said you probably were. Thanks. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  When Will entered the shop, the two men were sitting at a round table near the back. Neither saw him, and they seemed to be in deep conversation. He ordered a cup of coffee and observed them while he waited.

  Delaney, the taller and more muscular of the two, looked as though he might work out every day. Donovan had a softer, refined air. After the barista handed Will his coffee, he walked to the table.

  “Good morning,” he said, showing his badge. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “This won’t take long, will it?” Delaney said. “I have an appointment in a few minutes.”

  “No.” Will took out his notepad. “Just wanted to ask a couple questions about Stephanie Hollister.”

  “Stephanie?” Donovan echoed her name.

  “Why are you asking questions about her?” Delaney said. “She was murdered twenty years ago.”

  “Eighteen, and I’m looking into her murder,” Will said. “According to my information, you both dated her.”

  Irritation crossed Donovan’s face. “I don’t understand why you’re looking into the case. Her ex-boyfriend confessed, and he has a date with the . . .”

  His words trailed off when Will speared him with a sharp gaze. “I have proof he didn’t do it.”

  Delaney snorted. “If you’re talking about the letter from Lacey Wilson, you don’t have any evidence.”

  “How did you know about the letter?”

  His face reddened. “Same way you knew we were here.”

  Laura. Figured. “Where were you two the night Stephanie was killed?”

  “You surely don’t suspect either of us in her death,” Donovan said. “I loved her. I was planning to marry her.”

  “Did she return your love?”

  “Of course she did. It was just a matter of time before she said yes.”

  His tone indicated no woman in her right mind would turn him down.

  Donovan stood. “I don’t have time to sit here and be accused of something I didn’t do and don’t have any knowledge of.”

  “Before you go, can you tell me where you were the night she was murdered?”

  The jeweler rubbed his jaw. “That was eighteen years ago. I don’t have a
clue where I was that night. And if you have any other questions, take them up with my lawyer.”

  He tossed a five on the table and walked away. Will turned to Delaney. “Seems like if he was in love with Stephanie, he’d remember where he was when he learned she’d been murdered. How about you, do you know where you were?”

  “In a restaurant, eating a sandwich with Jillian, who I was dating at the time. We’d pried Laura away from her studies long enough to come with us. Cops were all over the place when I dropped them off at the house.”

  Will wrote his answer in the notepad along with Donovan’s. Spencer Delaney remembered right away where he was, but his wife and Donovan did not.

  David slowed his steps and Maggie followed suit. It sounded as though an intoxicated Jimmy Shelton had been capable of shooting Stephanie. The question was, had he done it? “How about the other roommate. Jillian Bennett. Did you know her?”

  “So-so. She and Spencer Delaney were practically inseparable until Stephanie’s murder, and then they broke up, and a few months later, Spencer started dating Laura.”

  “So Spencer Delaney had a relationship with both Jillian and Stephanie before he ended up married to Laura?”

  “Yes.” Maggie shook her head and laughed. “I know, it sounds like a soap opera. But he and Laura seem very happy together.”

  “What happened to Jillian?”

  “She disappeared from the scene not long after Stephanie’s death.”

  “What was she like?”

  “She was very independent and wanted to go to law school after she received her bachelor’s degree. That was about our only connection, and I’ve often wondered if she followed through. If you find her, I’d like to have her address.”

  He nodded. “Was Jillian good friends with the others?”

  “She and Stephanie were good friends, went to high school together, but the others—no. Their connection was their jobs—they were all flight attendants—but I don’t think any of them liked it. I was the only one going to school full-time.” Maggie stopped. “I do remember that Jillian seemed very close to Stephanie’s mother. And we better turn around so I can get back to the office.”

  “Mind if I ask a few more questions while we walk back?”

  She tilted her head toward him. “If you ever decide not to be a cop, I’d gladly hire you to question my clients.”

  He wasn’t sure that was a compliment. “I’m just trying to get a picture of what was going on when Stephanie was murdered, but I’ll just make it one more question.”

  “Why don’t you ask Laura? Don’t you work with her?”

  “I do, but I have another reason for coming to you first that I’ll get to in a minute. Do you remember if she was hanging around new friends? Or does anything unusual stand out in your memory?”

  “I think that was two questions,” she said, looking up at him. She smiled before answering. “I remember she was focused on Andi’s surgery . . . I probably would have attributed any tenseness to that.”

  “How about Lacey Wilson? What do you remember about her?”

  “That’s now three.”

  “So it is.” He was surprised by how much he enjoyed her sense of humor. He raised his eyebrows, signaling he wanted an answer, and she obliged.

  “Not much from that time frame. I got to know her better after Stephanie died and the Hollisters needed their house back. For a year I rented an apartment with Laura and Lacey.” She slipped her hands in her jacket. “Lacey had made an appointment with me for the day she died.”

  He noted that on his pad. “Do you know why she wanted to see you?”

  “No. I was so busy that day I didn’t realize she’d missed the appointment until Laura called yesterday with the news about her death. I certainly would not have pegged Lacey for suicide, though.”

  “I’m not certain she committed suicide.”

  Maggie stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “There are a lot of unanswered questions about her death.” He turned to face her. “Since you knew her, and you’re good at reading people, let me ask you something.”

  “Okay, but I hadn’t talked to her in years. I was surprised when I learned she’d made an appointment.”

  Too bad Maggie hadn’t kept up with Lacey. It would have been nice to have inside information on the victim. “Do you think someone who kept detailed records on everything would kill themselves and omit a suicide note?”

  “Over half the people who commit suicide don’t leave a note.” She tilted her head. “Give me more.”

  “She’d booked a flight to Hawaii for Tuesday night, and her bags were by the back door.”

  “Is that all?”

  “She was meeting Andi Hollister at the airport before the flight with information of some sort about her sister. And she planned to go to Riverbend.”

  “Add her appointment with me that afternoon, and that does put a different spin on it.” She walked in silence for a few minutes. “If Lacey didn’t commit suicide, then someone murdered her, like Stephanie.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  Maggie stared toward the river again. “I’ve always wondered about Jimmy’s conviction. He was so in love with her, and I never saw him with a gun. But then there was his alcohol problem, and when the detective said he’d confessed . . .”

  “I know. People don’t usually confess to crimes they didn’t commit, except George Barnes was the investigating officer, and he wasn’t above coercing a confession.”

  She frowned. “That’s why you were in my office. You don’t think Jimmy killed her, and you want me to take his case. But what does Lacey have to do with Jimmy?”

  He glanced around. “Why don’t we sit?” he said, pointing to a wrought iron bench.

  The wind had picked up, blowing a loose strand of hair across her face. It was strange seeing Maggie dressed so casually, and for the first time, he noticed her eyes were the color of her sweater, and both were the color of the forget-me-nots his mother grew when he was a child. Probably the only flowers other than roses that he knew by name.

  She brushed the hair from her eyes. “Exactly what is your interest in this?”

  “Jimmy’s execution date is Sunday night at eleven fifty-nine. Tuesday he received a letter stating the author had evidence that he didn’t kill Stephanie Hollister.”

  She leaned toward him. “What’s the evidence?”

  “I don’t know—the letter disappeared.”

  “Then get in touch with whoever sent it.”

  “Lacey Wilson wrote it.”

  “Oh.” Maggie sank back on the bench. “How do you know there even was a letter?”

  “A corrections officer saw it and photographed it, but unfortunately he wasn’t a great photographer. He wasn’t even good. The photo was too blurry to read. The letter is the only evidence we have. That and the possibility that Lacey Wilson was murdered.” He didn’t want to mention the guard suspected of stealing the letter until he had more information. “I don’t know that we have enough time to pull a case together.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “And that’s where I come in.”

  He acknowledged her guess with a matching grin. “Jimmy asked Will to talk to you, and I offered to come in his place to see if you’d be willing to take his case.”

  She didn’t bat an eyelash. “I’ll get started today. First thing we have to do is get a stay of execution and then get to work finding that evidence.”

  He stood and offered his hand to pull her up. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your office.”

  A few minutes later, they walked inside Maggie’s building just as Andi stepped off the elevator.

  “Oh, good!” she said. “Your secretary said you had gone for a walk. I’m glad I caught you two. Did David tell you I planned to come with him?”

  “Yes.” Maggie hugged Andi. “I’ve missed our lunches.”

  “Me too, but I’ve been so busy with these documentaries, I haven’t had time for lunch.”


  David believed that. Andi was thinner than she appeared on TV.

  “So that means you want something other than asking my help for Jimmy Shelton,” Maggie said.

  “You know me so well,” Andi said with a laugh. “I want to find Jillian and thought you might know where to find her.”

  “I’m afraid not. Like I just told David—I don’t know where she is.”

  The TV reporter’s shoulders drooped. “It looks like I’ll have to ask my mom. She mentioned at Christmas that Jillian had sent a card, and then she got all sad about Stephanie.” Andi made a face. “That’s why I was trying to find the address without asking her. But if I get it, do you want to ride along with me Saturday when I check it out?”

  Maggie tilted her head. “Count me in. I’d like to see Jillian again.”

  15

  AT THE TV STATION, Andi laid out her proposal for the story to her producer, and once he was on board, she went to her office and called Laura Delaney. The DA’s secretary gave her an appointment for eleven the next day. Then she called Will. He was on I-40 not far from the site of the accident.

  “I thought you were going to let me go with you.”

  “I believe the conversation went more like you told me I better take you if I went to Nashville. That’s hardly the way to get an invite. Besides, that’s not where I’m going.”

  Andi cringed. If only she could curb her sharp tongue. “You aren’t going on to Nashville to talk to the corrections officer in the hospital?”

  “No, he’s in an induced coma. Walter Simmons sent me contact information for the estranged wife, but she’s out of town until Saturday. She agreed to talk with me then, so I’ll go whether I can see Johnson or not.”

  “I’d like to go with you this time. Please.”

  “Figured that.”

  “Oh, wait, Saturday? Can’t go. Maggie and I are going to find Jillian.” Pain shot down her leg. How long had it been since her last pill? After another jolt, she didn’t care how long it’d been and fished the bottle from her purse.

  Once she swallowed two pills, she said, “If you’re still going to Lacey Wilson’s house today, I’d like to tag along.”

  “We’ll see,” he said.