How did you deal with someone who thought he was immortal?
"Tell Reynolds to tread very carefully where Charlie Deems is concerned," Packard warned her.
"I will."
"Good. Now, I'll get you those transcripts."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me. I'm all too glad to get rid of anything that reminds me of Charlie Deems."
Matthew Reynolds watched the light blinking on his personal phone line.
All calls to the office were handled by an answering service after the receptionist left, but the personal line bypassed the service. Few people knew his private number, but he had given it to Abbie.
Matthew picked up the receiver, hoping it was Abbie. He had not seen her for two days, but she had never left his thoughts.
"Matt?"
"Yes."
Matthew's heart raced.
"I remembered something. I don't know if it will help."
"Tell me."
"I shot a roll of film the day I was attacked at the coast. I forgot all about it in the excitement. When Jack drove me back to Portland, he packed up the car. He must have put my camera in the trunk. Then he brought my things in when we got to the rental house in Meadowbrook.
Your investigator must have brought the camera when he moved my belongings here. I just found it. The film is in the camera. I think I took some shots behind the cabin. There might be a shot of the shed where the dynamite was stored."
"Barry was at the cabin on Sunday. He looked in the shed and there was no dynamite. If we had an earlier picture of the shed . . ."
Matthew thought for a moment. "What make is the camera?"
"It's a Pentax 105-R."
"That could be a break. The Pentax date-stamps the negatives. That will prove the date the pictures were taken. If there is something useful on the film, Geddes won't be able to argue that the pictures were taken at a later date."
"What should I do?"
"Don't do anything. Leave the film in the camera. I'm going to send Tracy Cavanaugh to pick it up. I'll want the camera, too."
"Couldn't you come?" Abbie asked.
"I can't tonight."
"Oh."
Matthew could hear the disappointment in her voice and could not help smiling.
"I'm sorry. I'm handling an appeal in Texas. The man is on death row.
The brief is due in two days."
"You don't have to explain, Matt. I know you have other people who depend on you. It's just that . . ."
"Yes."
"Oh, I was feeling sorry for myself. You cheer me up, that's all."
"Good. That's the part of my job I like the best."
Abbie laughed. "Will I see you soon? I'm getting a little stir crazy."
"I promise. As soon as this brief is done."
Tracy brought the transcripts and a takeout order of kung pao chicken to the office as soon as she left Bob Packard. Deems's trial had lasted several weeks, so the transcript was twenty-nine volumes long. She was reading Volume III when Matthew Reynolds said, "I'm glad you're still here."
Tracy looked up from the transcript and saw Reynolds and the time simultaneously. It was 8:15. How had that happened? She was certain she had started reading at 5:30. Where had the hours gone?
"Mrs. Griffen just phoned me. We could be in luck. She shot a roll of film at the coast the day she was attacked. In the excitement, she forgot about it. I want you to drive to her home and get the camera and the film. Bring the film to a commercial developer first thing in the morning. I want a receipt showing the date the film was delivered for processing. Then bring me the camera."
"I'll go right now."
Reynolds turned to leave.
"Mr. Reynolds."
Matthew paused.
"These are the transcripts from Deems's trial."
"Ah. Good. I want a synopsis of everything you think will be of use.
Make certain you give me cites to the pages in the transcript, so I can find the information quickly."
"I'm working on it now," Tracy said, holding up a yellow pad to show Reynolds her notes. "Oh, and there's something Bob Packard thought you should know."
Tracy told Reynolds about Charlie Deems's dark angel. As she talked, she watched Reynolds's face show surprise, disbelief and, finally, a look of amused satisfaction. She expected him to ask her questions about Packard or Deems when she was done, but all he said was "That's very interesting, Tracy. Excellent work."
When Reynolds was gone, Tracy shook her head. She could never tell what her boss was thinking and he rarely expressed his thoughts. He acted like an all-wise and all-knowing Buddha who silently weighed the worth of what he heard but never let on what he was thinking until it was absolutely necessary.
During the pretrial motion to suppress evidence in the Livingstone case in Atlanta, Tracy was unaware of the direction his cross-examination was taking until the moment before Reynolds sprang his trap. Tracy had been very impressed by Reynolds's technique, but she had also been a little upset that he had not confided to her what he was planning.
When Tracy clerked for Justice Sherzer there were never any secrets between them and she felt as if she was part of a team.
Reynolds worked alone and at times made her feel like a piece of office equipment. Still, the opportunity to work with a genius like Reynolds was adequate compensation for her bruised feelings.
As she drove along the dark highway toward the Griffen place, Tracy realized that her feelings about Abigail and Robert Griffen had changed since her talk with Justice Kelly. The judge had cheated on his wife and to Tracy that was indefensible. She was also upset with herself for being so quick to conclude that Abigail was lying about her husband simply because she liked the judge.
On the other hand, Tracy had been around Mrs. Griffen enough to concur in Mary Kelly's opinion that Griffen was a cold, calculating woman who could easily have been frigid enough to drive Justice Griffen into the arms of other women. And the fact that the judge had been cheating gave Abigail Griffen a powerful motive for murder.
The Griffens' driveway had been resurfaced as soon as the police removed the crime-scene tapes, but here and there, on the edges, Tracy's headlight beams picked out burn marks and scarred asphalt. When she parked, Tracy saw Abigail Griffen standing in the doorway. Abbie was smiling, but the smile looked forced. Tracy wondered how long Mrs.
Griffen had been waiting for her near the front door. "It's Tracy, right?"
Tracy nodded. "Mr. Reynolds sent me for the film and the camera."
Tracy expected Abbie to be holding them, but her hands were empty. She did not see the camera on the hall table.
"Come in," Abbie said. "They're upstairs. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No, thanks. It's a little late."
The smile left Abbie's lips for a moment. "Oh, come on. I was going to pour myself a cup when you drove up."
Tracy was going to decline again, but Mrs. Griffen sounded a little desperate.
"Okay. Sure."
There were two settings on the kitchen table. Tracy realized that Abbie had been counting on her to stay. Tracy sat down. She felt uncomfortable. Abbie carried over the coffeepot.
"Do you take milk or sugar?"
"Black is fine."
Abbie filled Tracy's cup. "How long have you worked for Matt?" she asked nervously, like a blind date fishing for a way to start a conversation. Tracy got the feeling that making small talk was not one of Abbie's strengths.
"Not long," Tracy answered tersely, unwilling to have their relationship be anything more than a professional one while she still harbored doubts about Abbie.
"You clerked for Alice Sherzer, didn't you?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
Abbie smiled. "You looked familiar. I visited Robert at the court occasionally. He may have pointed you out. Did you enjoy your clerkship?"
"Yes. Justice Sherzer is a remarkable woman."