"I want proof positive that Celina Gaither's body is not
interred in that grave at the cemetery."
"Why didn't you do something sensible, like get a shovel
and start digging?"
That silenced her. It took her a moment to recover. At last
she said, "You're in a surly mood this morning. Rough
night?"
"Yeah. I got laid, but it wasn't very good."
Her eyes dropped to the littered table. "Oh. I'm sorry to
hear that."
"What, that I got laid?"
She gazed back up at him. "No, that it wasn't very good."
They shared a lengthy stare. His face looked as rugged and
craggy as a mountain range, but it was one of the most
appealing she'd ever encountered.
Whenever they were together, she was involuntarily aware
of him, of his body, of the way she was drawn to him. She
knew her attraction was unethical and reckless, from a professional
standpoint, and compromising, from a personal one.
He'd belonged to her mother first.
Yet, too often she wanted to touch him or to be touched
by him. Last night she'd wanted him to hold her longer while
she cried. Thankfully, he'd had better sense and had left.
Who had he gone to? Alex wondered. Where and when
had the unsatisfactory lovemaking taken place? Had it been
before or after he'd come to her motel room? Why hadn't it
been any good?
Several moments elapsed before she lowered her head and
resumed sorting through the files.
Not one to be ignored, he reached across the table and
placed his hand beneath her chin, jerking it toward him. "I
told you that Celina was cremated.''
She jumped to her feet. "After you and Judge Wallace put
your heads together and discussed it. That seems a little
convenient to me."
"You enjoy imagining things."
' 'Why didn't Junior mention that Celina had been cremated
when he saw me in the cemetery? I'm thinking that maybe
she is buried there. That's why I'm going through all these
files."
"Why would I lie about it?"
"To keep me from having the body exhumed."
"Again, why? What difference would that make to me?"
"Life imprisonment," she said tightly, "if the forensic
report implicated you as her murderer."
"Ah . . ." At a loss for a word foul enough, he slammed
his fist into his opposite palm and ground it against the tough
flesh. "Is this what they teach you in law school--to start
grasping at straws when all else fails?"
"Exactly."
He planted his hands firmly on the desk and leaned far
across it. "You're not a lawyer, you're a witch hunter."
That stung because Alex did feel like one. This search had
a vigilante desperation to it that left a bad taste in her mouth.
She sat back down and laid her hands on top of the open
files.
Turning her head away, she stared out at the winter landscape.
The naked branches of the sycamore trees on the lawn
were encased in tubes of ice. Sleet pellets made tiny pinging
sounds against the windowpanes. The sky and everything
below it were a dead, dismal gray. Lines of distinction were
imprecise. The world was monochromatic--without light and
shadows.
Some things, however, were black and white. Chief among
them was the law.
"That might be true if there hadn't been a crime, Reede,"
she said, bringing her head back around. "But there was.
Somebody went into that stable and stabbed my mother."
"With a scalpel. Right," he said scoffingly. "Can you
envision Angus, Junior or me wielding a surgical instrument?
Why not kill her with our bare hands? Strangle her?"
"Because you're all too clever. One of you made it to look
like a mentally unbalanced man had done it." She splayed
her hand upon her chest and asked earnestly, "In my place,
wouldn't you want to know who that someone was and why
he did it? You loved Celina. If you didn't kill her--"
"I didn't."
' "Then, don't you want to know who did? Or are you afraid
that her killer will turn out to be somebody else you love?"
"No, I don't want to know," he said emphatically. "And
until you obtain a search warrant--"
"Miss Gaither?" Mr. Davis interrupted, entering the room.
"Is this what you're looking for? I found it in a file cabinet
in my storeroom." He handed her a folder, then scuttled out
under Reede's baleful stare.
Alex read the name typed across the top of the file. She
glanced at Reede, then eagerly opened the cover. After scanning
the first of several forms, she sank into her chair and reported
huskily, "It says here that her body was cremated."
Her heart feeling like lead, she closed the folder and rhetorically
asked,' 'Why didn't my grandmother ever mention that?''
"She probably didn't think it was significant."
"She saved everything, Celina's clothes, her things. Why
wouldn't she have taken the ashes?"
Suddenly, she leaned forward, rested her elbows on the
table, and supported her head with both hands. Her stomach
churned mutinously. Fresh tears were building behind her
lids, making them sting. "God, this is morbid, but I've got
to know. I've got to."
After taking a few deep breaths, she reopened the file and
began to flip through the various forms. Reading one, she
sucked in her breath sharply.
"What is it?"
She lifted the sheet out of the folder and handed it to Reede.
"This is a receipt for all of mother's funeral expenses, including
the cremation."
"So?"
"Look at the signature."
"Angus Minton," he read softly, thoughtfully.
"You didn't know?" He shook his head. "It appears that
Angus paid for everything, and wanted to keep it a secret
from everybody." Alex drew a shuddering breath and gazed
at Reede inquisitively. "I wonder why."
Across town, Stacey Wallace entered the room that served
as her father's office away from the courthouse. He was bent
over the desk, poring through a legal tome. "Judge," she
chided him affectionately, "as long as you're taking the day
off, you should really take it off."
"It's not an official day off," he grumbled, giving the
wintry view through the window a disgusted glance. "I've
needed to catch up on some reading. Today's the perfect day
for it, since I can't get to the courthouse."
"You've been working too hard and worrying too much."
"You're not telling me anything that my ulcer hasn't already."
Stacey sensed that he was extremely upset. "What's
wrong?"
"It's that Gaither girl."
"Celina's daughter? She's still pestering you?"
"She came to my office yesterday wanting a court order
to have the body exhumed."
"My God!" Stacey exclaimed in a disbelieving whisper.
She raised a pale hand to the base of her throat. "The woman
sounds like a fiend."
"Fiendish or not, I had to deny the request."
"Good for you."
He shook his head. "I had no choice. The body had been
cremated."
Stacey pondered that. "Seems like I remember that now.
How'd she take that news?"
"I don't know. Reede delivered it."
"Reede?"
"I called him last night. He volunteered. I would guess
she didn't take it well."
"Do Angus and Junior know about this?"
"I'm sure they do by now. Reede would have told them."
"Probably," Stacey murmured. For a moment she was
#quiet. Then she roused herself and asked, "Can I bring you
anything?"
"Not so soon after breakfast, thanks."
"Some hot tea?"
"Not now."
"Cocoa? Why don't you let me--"
"Stacey, I said, no thanks." He spoke with more impatience
than he intended.
"I'm sorry I bothered you," she said dejectedly. "If you
need me, I'll be upstairs."
The judge gave her an absentminded nod and dipped back
into the leather-bound legal volume. Stacey quietly closed
the study door. Her hand listlessly trailed the banister rail as
she went upstairs to her bedroom. She didn't feel well. Her
abdomen was swollen and achy. She'd started her period that
morning.
The mid-forties seemed a ludicrous time to be suffering
cramps like a teenager, although Stacey supposed she should
welcome these monthly fluxes. They were her only reminders
that she was a woman. No children came to her asking for
lunch money or help with homework. No husband demanded
to know what she had cooked for dinner, or if she'd picked
up his cleaning, or if he could expect sex that night.
Daily she lamented not having all that glorious chaos in
her life. As regularly as some people said prayers, Stacey
enumerated to God the amenities of life that he had denied
her. She longed for the racket of children running through
the house. She yearned to have a husband reach for her in
the night, to nuzzle her breasts and satisfy her hungering,
restless body.
Like a priest who takes up self-flagellation, she went to
her bureau, opened the third drawer, and took out the photograph
album with the embossed white leather cover.
She opened it with reverence. One by one, she fondled the
precious mementos--a yellowed newspaper clipping with her
picture, a small square paper napkin with silver letters spelling
out two names in one corner, a crumbling rose.
She leafed through the plastic binders, gazing at the photographs
pressed between them. The people posing for the
pictures in front of the altar had changed very little over the
years.
After nearly an hour of masochistic reverie, Stacey closed
the album and replaced it in its sacred drawer. Stepping out
of her shoes so as not to spoil the comforter on her bed, she
lay down and drew her pillow against her chest, snuggling it
against her curved body like a lover.
Hot, salty tears leaked from her eyes. She whispered a
name, urgently and repeatedly. She ground the heel of her
hand over her lower body to relieve the pain of emptiness
inside her womb, which had been a receptacle for his body,
but never his love.
Fourteen
"Hey, what the hell, you two?" Junior exclaimed, dividing
his puzzled glance between Alex and Reede. Then, buffeted
by a gust of wind, he moved out of the doorway and urged
them inside. "Come in. I couldn't imagine who'd come calling
on a day like this. Reede, you ought to have your head
examined for dragging Alex all the way out here."
He was wearing an ancient pair of jeans with the knees
worn through, a cotton sweater, and thick white socks. It
looked like he hadn't been up very long. In one hand he was
holding a steaming mug of coffee; in the other, a trashy
paperback novel. His hair was appealingly mussed. Stubble
shadowed the lower half of his face.
Having recovered from the surprise of finding them on his
doorstep, he smiled down at Alex. She thought he looked
terrific and figured that most of the women in the world would
agree with her. He looked lazy and rich, sexy and rumpled,
comfortable and cushy. He invited snuggling, and his slow
smile suggested that's what he'd been doing when they had
interrupted.
"I didn't drag her out here," Reede said touchily. "It was
the other way around."
"I was willing to come alone," Alex snapped.
"Well, I wasn't willing to let you become a highway statistic
in my county," he shouted. Turning to Junior, who was
bemusedly taking in their heated exchange, Reede said, "To
make a long story short, I drove her out here because she
was determined to come and I was afraid she'd kill herself
--or worse, somebody else--on these roads. So, here we
are."
"Well, I'm damned glad you're here," Junior said. "I
had resigned myself to spending a boring day here alone.
I've got a great fire going in the living room, and all
the makings for hot toddies. Follow me." He set off, but
turned and added, "Oops, Reede, you know how Mother
is about having the floors tracked up. Better take your boots
off."
"Fuck that. Is Lupe in the kitchen? I'm gonna try and
sweet-talk her out of some breakfast." Giving no regard to
Sarah Jo's floors, he tramped toward the back of the house
as though he still lived there.
Alex watched him disappear through a doorway. "Did he
say sweet talk!" she asked caustically.
"Oh, he's in a sunny mood today," Junior remarked negligently.
"You ought to see him when he's really pissed.
Leave Reede to Lupe. She knows how he likes his eggs. He'll
feel better once he eats."
Alex let him help her off with her coat. "I hope this isn't
too much of an intrusion."
"Hell, no. I wasn't kidding when I said I'm glad you're
here." He threw his arm across her shoulders. "Let's--"
"Actually," Alex said, shrugging off his arm, "this isn't
a social call."
"Business, huh?"
"Yes, and extremely important. Is Angus here?"
"He's in his den." His smile was still in place, but it had
stiffened.
"Is he busy?"
"I don't think so. Come on, I'll take you back."
"I hate to tear you away from your novel."
He glanced dubiously at the torrid cover. "Doesn't matter.
It was getting monotonous."
"What's it about?"
' 'A legendary cock's sojourn through most of the bedrooms
in Hollywood, both male and female."
"Oh, really?" Alex inquired, feigning interest. "Can I
borrow it when you're finished?"
"Shame on you," he exclaimed. "I'd be corrupting the
morals of a minor, wouldn't I?"
"You're not that much older than I am."
"Compared to Reede and me, you're a baby," he told her
as he opened the door to the den. "Dad, we've got company."
Angus glanced up from his newspaper. In the span of
several seconds his face registered surprise, irritation, then a
smile.
"Hello, Angus. I hate to disturb you on a sleep-in morning
like today."
"No problem. There's not much going on. We can't exercise
racehorses outdoors when the ground's frozen." He
left his red leather recliner and crossed the room to welcome
her. "You're a bright spot on a gloomy day, that's for damn
sure, hey, Junior?"
"I've already told her as much."
"But as I've told Junior," she hastened to say, "this isn't
a social visit."
"Oh? Sit down, sit down." Angus waved her toward a
tufted leather love seat.
"I'll just--"
"No, Junior, I'd like for you to stay," Alex said before
he could withdraw. "This concerns all of us."
"Okay, shoot." Junior straddled the overstuffed arm of
the love seat as though it were a saddle.
"I spoke to Judge Wallace again yesterday." Alex thought
she saw both men tense, but it was so fleeting, she could
have imagined it.
"Any particular reason why?" Angus asked.
"I wanted to have my mother's body exhumed."
There was no mistaking their reaction this time. "Jesus,
girl, why in hell would you want to do something like that?"
Angus shuddered.
"Alex." Junior reached for her hand, laid it on his thigh,
and massaged the back of it. "Isn't this getting a little out
of hand? That's . . . that's gruesome."
"The case is gruesome," she reminded him as she eased
her hand off his thigh. "Anyway, as I'm sure you know,
what I asked for is impossible. My mother's body was cremated."
"That's right," Angus said.
"Why?" Her eyes were bright and intensely blue in the