Best Kept Secrets

She sighed. "During this telephone call, did the governor

 

Mention a ranch hand named Pasty Hickam?"

 

' "So, it's true."

 

"It's true. And please don't insult me by trying to trap me

 

like that again. I was going to tell you."

 

"When? When were you going to slip it into the conversation

 

that a representative of this office got involved with a

 

cowboy who turned up dead?"

 

"Care to hear my side of it?" She told him about Pasty.

 

He was frowning more man ever when she finished. "If

 

you're right, not only is it stupid and politically imprudent

 

to continue this investigation, it's dangerous. I don't suppose

 

anyone's confessed."

 

She made a face at him. "No. But one of them killed

 

Celina, and probably Hickam."

 

Cursing, he mashed out his cigarette. "Let's stick to one

 

murder at a time. If you had to arrest one of them tomorrow

 

for killing your mother, who would it be?"

 

"I'm not sure."

 

"Why would the old man have iced her?"

 

"Angus is cantankerous and shrewd. He wields a lot of

 

power, and definitely enjoys being the boss."

 

"You're smiling."

 

"He's extremely likable, I'll admit." She kept Angus's

 

comment about having a daughter like her to herself. "He's

 

inordinately rough on Junior. But, a slasher?" she asked

 

rhetorically, shaking her head. "I don't think so. It's not his

 

style. Besides, Angus didn't have a motive."

 

"What about Junior?"

 

"There's a possibility there. He's glib and very charming.

 

I'm sure that everything he tells me is the truth, he just doesn't

 

tell me everything. I know he loved Celina. He wanted to

 

marry her after my father was killed. Maybe she said no one

 

too many times."

 

"Conjecture and more conjecture. So, that leaves Lambert.

 

What about him?"

 

Alex lowered her head and stared at her bloodless fingers.

 

"He's the most likely suspect, I believe."

 

 

 

Greg's chair sprang forward. "What makes you say that?"

 

"Motive and opportunity. He might have felt his best friend

 

was displacing him and killed her to prevent it."

 

"Pretty viable motive. What about opportunity?"

 

"He was at the ranch that night, but he left."

 

"Are you sure? Has he got an alibi?"

 

"He says he was with a woman."

 

"Do you believe him?"

 

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, yes. I can believe

 

that. Neither he nor Junior has a problem with women."

 

"Except your mother."

 

"Yes," she conceded quietly.

 

"What has Lambert's alibi got to say?"

 

"Nothing. He won't tell me her name. If she exists, she's

 

probably still around. Otherwise, what difference would it

 

make? I'll work on tracking her down when I get back."

 

"Who says you're going back?"

 

Up till now, Alex had been pacing. Returning to her chair,

 

she appealed to him. "I've got to go back, Greg. I can't

 

leave it up in the air like this. I don't care if the murderer is

 

the governor himself, I've got to see it through to the finish."

 

He nodded toward the telephone on his desk. "He's going

 

to call me this afternoon and ask me if you're off the case.

 

He expects me to say yes."

 

"Even if that would mean leaving a murder unsolved?"

 

"Judge Wallace convinced him that you've got a bee up

 

your ass and that this is a personal vendetta."

 

"Well, he's wrong."

 

"I don't think so."

 

Her heart stopped beating. "You think that, too?"

 

"Yep, I do." He spoke softly, more like a friend than a

 

boss. "Call it quits, Alex, while we're all still speaking to

 

each other, and before I get my tail in a real crack with the

 

governor."

 

"You gave me thirty days."

 

"Which I can rescind."

 

"I've got just a little more than a week left."

 

 

 

"You can do a lot of damage in that amount of time."

 

"I could also get to the truth."

 

He looked skeptical. "That's a long shot. I've got cases

 

here that need your expert touch."

 

"I'll pay my own expenses," she said. "Consider this my

 

vacation."

 

"In that case, I couldn't sanction anything you did out

 

there. You'd no longer have the protection of this office."

 

"Okay, fine."

 

He shook his head stubbornly. "I wouldn't let you do that,

 

any more than I'd let. my teenage daughter go on a date

 

without a rubber in her purse."

 

"Greg, please."

 

"Jesus, you're a stubborn broad." He withdrew a cigarette

 

from the pack, but didn't light it. "You know the one thing

 

that intrigues me about this case? The judge. If he turned out

 

to be as crooked as a dog's hind leg, it'd really get our

 

governor's goat."

 

"You're mixing metaphors."

 

"What have you got on him?"

 

"Nothing more solid than dislike. He's a persnickety little

 

man, nervous and shifty-eyed." She thought a moment.

 

"There is something that struck me as odd, though."

 

"Well?" he asked, sitting forward.

 

"Stacey, his daughter, married Junior Minton weeks after

 

Celina's death."

 

"Unless they're brother and sister, that wasn't illegal."

 

She shot him a sharp look. "Stacey's not ... well, not

 

Junior's type, you know? She still loves him." She recounted

 

the incident in the powder room at the Horse and Gun Club.

 

"Junior's very attractive. Stacey isn't the kind of woman he

 

would marry."

 

"Maybe she's got a golden *."

 

"I'll admit, I never thought of that," Alex said dryly. "He

 

didn't have to marry her to sleep with her. So why did he,

 

unless there was a very good reason? In addition to that,

 

Stacey lied to me. She said she was home unpacking after a

 

 

 

trip to Galveston, but failed to mention she'd been in the

 

stable that day."

 

Greg gnawed on his lower lip, then poked the cigarette in

 

his mouth and flicked the lighter at it. "It's still too weak,

 

Alex." He exhaled. "I've got to go with my gut instincts

 

and call you off."

 

They stared at each other a moment, then she calmly

 

opened her handbag and withdrew two plain white envelopes.

 

She pushed them toward him. "What's this?"

 

"My letter of resignation, and a letter of intent to file a

 

civil suit against the Mintons and Reede Lambert."

 

He almost swallowed his cigarette. "What? You can't."

 

"I can. I will. There's enough evidence to bring a civil

 

suit against them for the murder of my mother. I'll sue them

 

for so much money in damages that opening a racetrack will

 

be out of the question. Reede Lambert's career will be shot

 

to hell, too. They won't go to jail, but they'll be ruined."

 

"you win."

 

"It won't matter if I do or not. In a civil suit, they can't

 

plead the Fifth to avoid incrimination. No matter what they

 

say, everyone will presume they're lying. The racing commission

 

would have no choice but to reverse its decision and

 

revoke the gambling license."

 

"So, what this all boils down to is money?" he cried. "Is

 

that what you've been after all along?"

 

Her pale cheeks sprouted dots of color. "It's beneath even

 

you to say something like that to me. I demand your apology."

 

Greg muttered a string of oaths. "Okay, I'm sorry. But,

 

you mean this, don't you?"

 

"Yes, I do."

 

He deliberated for a full minute longer before grumbling,

 

"I ought to have my head examined." Pointing a stern finger

 

at her, he said, "Stay the hell out of trouble. Make sure

 

you've loaded both barrels before you go after somebody,

 

particularly Wallace. If you screw up and I get my ass chewed

 

on, I'll claim you were a naughty girl and that I had nothing

 

 

 

to do with your actions. And, your original deadline sticks.

 

Got that?"

 

"Got it," she said, coming to her feet. "You'll be hearing

 

from me as soon as I know something."

 

"Alex?" She was already at the door. When she looked

 

back at him, he asked, "What's going on with you?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Any reason in particular why you look like the ghost of

 

Christmas, dead and buried?"

 

"I'm just tired."

 

He didn't believe her, but he let it go. After she'd left, he

 

reached for the two envelopes she'd shoved across his desk.

 

He ripped open the first, then, more hastily, the second.

 

Greg Harper practically hurdled his desk and lunged for

 

the door of his office. "Alex, you bitch!" he roared down

 

the empty corridor.

 

"She just left," his startled secretary informed him. "With

 

a man."

 

"Who?"

 

"A cowboy in a fur-trimmed leather jacket."

 

Greg returned to his desk, wadded the two empty envelopes

 

into balls, and shot them at the wastebasket.

 

 

 

It was close to sundown when Reede wheeled his Blazer

 

into the parking lot of the Westerner Motel.

 

"Just drop me at the lobby, please," Alex told him. "I

 

need to check for messages."

 

Reede did as she asked without comment. They'd had very

 

little to say to each other since their awkward reunion outside

 

the D.A.'s office. The flight home had been uneventful. Alex

 

had dozed most of the way.

 

Reede had passed the time watching Alex doze.

 

No less than a thousand times during the night, he'd almost

 

gone back to her condo. Looking at the crescent-shaped circles

 

beneath her eyes while she slept, he didn't know how

 

he could have walked away from her. She had needed someone

 

with her last night. He'd been the only one available.