Mary Kay was just bringing a fresh carafe of coffee when I got to Judge Rawlings’s office. I still had about fifteen minutes before court convened, and I used it to call Dwight.
There was a time when learning he’d phoned someone like Underwood would have annoyed the hell out of me. Today, for some reason, it only amused me. Amused me, but also gave me an strange sensation I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t like feeling protected, exactly … more like cherished.
Cherished?
I’ve been loved a time or two, and guys have brought me flowers and candy and even an occasional piece of jewelry, but cherished? I found myself remembering something Minnie once told me when we were talking about romantic gestures.
“Your brother Seth’s not one for mushy talk,” she said, “and he might forget my birthday or our anniversary, but I’ve never once left the yard to drive somewhere overnight that he hasn’t checked the oil and fluid levels in my car. In all these years we’ve been married, I’ve never had a radiator belt break on me or had to change the wipers or pushed the washer lever and found it empty. And you know something, Deborah? I must not be very romantic either, because that means more to me than any big bunch of roses.”
The phone rang twice.
“Bryant here.”
“Hey,” I said.
“Deb’rah? Well, hey yourself, shug. I got your e-mail and just sat down to write you back. How’s it going?”
“I met your friend George a few minutes ago.”
“Oh?” From the wary tone of that one syllable, I knew he thought I was fixing to chew his hide.
“You checking up on me?”
He heard the laughter in my voice and relaxed with a warm chuckle of his own. “The eyes of a lawman are everywhere.”
“No escape?”
“No point in even trying.”
“So how are things down in the flatlands?”
“Same as when you left. Let’s see now … Mama and I had Sunday dinner with Rob and Kate, then your dad and I aggravated some bass right before dark. Let ’em all go, though. And yesterday we set a few roadblocks around Widdington.”
“Because of the increased drug activity they’ve had lately?”
“Yeah. It was the usual DWIs and expired licenses, but we did pick up a few ounces of this and that. Caught one guy with eighty thousand dollars in his trunk.”
“And of course he didn’t have the least little clue as to how it got there, right?”
“And since he said it wasn’t his, we took it off his hands,” Dwight agreed. “Maybe it’ll buy a new school bus or two on down the line. Everything going okay up yonder in the hills? Seen much of your cousins?”
“Late and soon,” I said and told him about yesterday’s probable cause hearing, the twins’ partisan defense of Danny Freeman, his unexpected presence at breakfast this morning, and how they hoped to uncover other suspects.
“You’re not getting involved, are you?” he asked with a touch of his old bossiness.
“Don’t worry. It’s absolutely nothing to do with me.”
An attorney from yesterday’s court appeared in the doorway with an order that needed a judge’s signature, so I told Dwight I’d see him Saturday morning and reached for the document.
Lucius Burke was passing in the hallway and stopped to say hello.
“Norman Osborne get home okay last night?” I asked, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my long black robe.
He shook his head. “And Sunny’s already called me twice because the sheriff doesn’t want to put out a missing persons report on him yet. I’m going down now to talk to him about it.”
I zipped up my robe. “Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have the whole file on the Ledwig investigation?”
He nodded.
“I was wondering about the older daughter’s alibi.”
“Carla Ledwig? What about it?”
“She has one, right?”
“I guess. I couldn’t tell you what it is off the top of my head, but I’m sure someone checked or I’d remember since it was her boyfriend who did it. Why?”
“No real reason.” I explained about the twins and how they’d said Carla Ledwig had been with them all afternoon. “I was wondering if I could read their statement since they’re my cousins.”
If my explanation sounded lame, he was kind enough not to call me on it.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll have my secretary pull it for you.”
“’Preciate it,” I told him and headed for the courtroom to try and dispense a little justice.
The first case was being called before I realized I hadn’t noticed his green eyes at all.
Lucius Burke was as good as his word. A few minutes before the morning break, a woman handed the file to Mary Kay and I took it back to chambers with me to see if I could figure out why the twins had lied about where they were.
“In the library,” May had said.
“In Carla Ledwig’s dorm room,” June had said.
I read it through twice and was even more puzzled. According to the officer who took their statement, Carla and the twins had worked in the same restaurant that afternoon. Carla was a hostess there, and her unbroken presence was confirmed not only by the twins but by several prominent-sounding customers.
Now why would they lie to me about that?
I was halfway through the pre-lunch session before the answer hit me square in the face.
CHAPTER 13
TUESDAY, 9:30 A.M.
In the house at the top of Old Needham Road, Sunny Osborne paced the stone terrace outside her bedroom like a restless golden tiger.
A golden tiger tethered by a telephonic chain.
She wished that she could call Tina Ledwig or Carolyn Gimpel or any of the others whom she regularly met for tennis at the club. See if Tina was sober enough to play. Waiting had never been easy for her. She had always been a woman of impulsive physical action. She needed to be chasing after a ball, slamming it back across the net, working off the tension that had her keyed tighter than a guitar string.
From this height, she could see the tree-covered hills of three counties. All the colors of autumn blazed around her as far as any eye could see, but she had no thought for their beauty because her whole being was focused on Norman, willing him to call, willing him to come home safely. How could he have vanished so utterly and completely in the half-mile between the two houses? She had already called all the neighbors again this morning. Still nothing.
Anxiety kept her circling back and forth where the phone sat on a table just inside the open French doors. She knew she was spooking the hell out of Nellie but she couldn’t help herself. Every few minutes the housekeeper would peer anxiously around the corner, and here she was again, asking if there were anything she could bring. Tea? Coffee? A big glass of cold milk?
“Maybe you should call Miss Laura?”
“No!” she exploded. “Dammit, Nellie, go do your work and leave me alone!”
Calling their daughter would mean accepting that something dreadful, something unthinkable, something final had happened to Norman. He had always been bad for not checking in immediately when business required him to wine and dine someone unexpectedly. It was part of his good ol’ boy self-image.
“Now, darlin’, no real man calls his wife and gets permission to go out,” he would say. “Clients don’t wanna deal with a pussy-whipped jellyfish.”
Normally she didn’t mind. She loved being married to a man’s man, and his cheerful machismo didn’t bother her. Let him tell himself and the world that he was the good-timing man married to a good-hearted woman, and let them both believe it—she knew who held the narrow edge of power in this house. Besides, even on those late nights, he was usually home by midnight and he damn well did manage a discreet call every time.
Twice before in their marriage, however, there had been nights like the one she’d just endured. The first time began on a Saturday afternoon when Laura was a toddler, about a year before he finally hit it big. He had run out to pick up a gallon of milk and hadn’t come home until after seven the next morning—without the milk, and sporting a massive hangover. At the dairy case, he had run into an old Army buddy and had gone back to the buddy’s vacation condo, where they proceeded to empty every bottle in the house as they relived boot camp.