Best Kept Secrets

but it was one she could live with. She spent the morning

 

reviewing her notes and doing some research, and was waiting

 

in Judge Wallace's anteroom when he returned from lunch.

 

He didn't look pleased to see her.

 

"I told Ms. Gaither that you had a full schedule today,"

 

Mrs. Lipscomb said defensively when he turned a baleful

 

glance on her. "She insisted on waiting for you."

 

"She's right, Judge Wallace, I did," Alex said. "Can you

 

spare me a few minutes?"

 

He consulted his wristwatch. "A very few."

 

She followed him into his office. He took off his overcoat

 

and hung it on a brass coat tree. Not until he was situated

 

behind his desk, trying to look intimidating, did he say,

 

"What is it this time?"

 

"What did Angus Minton use to entice you?"

 

His face became instantly mottled. "I don't know what

 

you're talking about."

 

"Yes, you do. You confined an innocent man to a state

 

mental hospital, Judge Wallace. You knew he was innocent,

 

or at least strongly suspected that he was. You did that at

 

Angus Minton's request, didn't you? And in exchange, you

 

demanded that Junior marry your daughter Stacey."

 

"This is incredible!" He banged his fists on his desktop.

 

"It's extremely credible. On the morning after Celina Graham

 

Gaither was found murdered in a stable on the Minton

 

ranch, you received a phone call or a visit from Angus. Bud

 

Hicks had been arrested nearby, covered in blood and in

 

possession of a scalpel presumed to be the murder weapon.

 

That was never ascertained because the scalpel wasn't thoroughly

 

analyzed. The autopsy report specified that she died

 

of repeated stab wounds, but a forensic expert didn't have

 

access to the body before it was cremated, so she could have

 

been stabbed by anything."

 

"Gooney Bud stabbed her with Dr. Collins's scalpel," he

 

stated stubbornly. "He found it in the stable and killed her

 

with it."

 

"Where is it now?"

 

 

 

"Now? It's been twenty-five years. You don't expect it to

 

be lying around in the evidence room, do you?"

 

"No, but I would expect to have a record of its dispensation.

 

No one ever called the late Dr. Collins or his son,

 

asking if they might want it back, even though it was known

 

to have been a gift from his wife. Doesn't that strike you as

 

unusual?"

 

"God knows what happened to it, or to the records concerning

 

it."

 

"I think that you disposed of it, Judge. You, not the sheriffs

 

office, were the last one recorded to have possession of

 

it. I checked this morning before coming here."

 

"Why would I dispose of it?"

 

"Because if someone came along later--an investigator

 

like me--it would be easy and believable to pass off its

 

disappearance as a clerical error. Better to be accused of

 

sloppy bookkeeping than miscarriage of justice."

 

"You are obnoxious, Miss Gaither," he said stiffly. "Like

 

most avengers, you're reacting emotionally, and have no basis

 

whatsoever for your horrid allegations."

 

"Nevertheless, this is what I intend to present to the grand

 

jury. Actually, I'm doing you a favor by telling you what I

 

have. You'll be able to consult with your attorney ahead of

 

time about the answers you will give. Or will you take the

 

Fifth?"

 

"I won't need to do either."

 

"Do you want to call your lawyer now? I'll gladly

 

wait."

 

"I don't need a lawyer."

 

 

 

 

 

"Then I'll proceed. Angus asked you for a favor. You

 

asked for one in return."

 

"Junior Minton married my daughter because he loved

 

her."

 

"I find that impossible to believe, Judge Wallace, since

 

he's told me himself that he asked my mother to marry him

 

the night she was killed."

 

"I can't explain his fickleness."

 

 

 

"I can. Junior was the trade-off for your ruling on Gooney

 

Bud."

 

"The district attorney's office--"

 

"He was on vacation in Canada at the time. I confirmed

 

that with his widow this morning. His assistant had enough

 

evidence to arraign Bud Hicks for murder."

 

"A trial jury would have convicted him, too."

 

"I disagree, but we'll never know. You prevented that."

 

She drew a deep breath. "Who was Angus protecting--

 

himself, Junior, or Reede?"

 

"No one."

 

"He must have told you when he called that morning."

 

"He didn't call."

 

"He had to have called as soon as Hicks was arrested.

 

What did Angus tell you?"

 

"He didn't tell me anything. I never heard from him."

 

She came out of her chair and leaned over his desk. "He

 

must have said, 'Look, Joe, I've gotten myself in a jam here.'

 

Or, 'Junior's taken this boys-will-be-boys thing a little too

 

far this time,' or 'Can you help Reede out? He's like a son

 

to me.' Isn't that what happened?"

 

"No, never."

 

"You might have argued that you couldn't do it. You

 

probably asked for time to think about it. Being the nice guy

 

that he is, Angus granted you a few hours to mull it over.

 

That's when you came back saying that you would do this

 

little favor for him in exchange for a marriage between Stacey

 

and Junior."

 

"I won't have you--"

 

"Maybe you even discussed your dilemma with her and

 

Mrs. Wallace."

 

"This is defamation of--"

 

"Or maybe Stacey was the one to suggest the terms of the

 

deal."

 

"Stacey never knew anything about it!"

 

He shot out of his chair and stood nose to nose with Alex,

 

shouting the words in her face. When he realized what he'd

 

admitted, he blinked, wet his lips, then eased away from her

 

 

 

and turned his back. Nervously, he ran his fingers over the

 

row of brass studs on the back of his leather chair. It had

 

been a gift from his daughter, his only child.

 

"You knew how much Stacey loved Junior Minton."

 

"Yes," he said softly. "I knew that she loved him more

 

than he deserved."

 

"And that her affection wasn't returned."

 

"Yes."

 

"And that Junior slept with her whenever he felt like it.

 

You thought you had better protect her reputation and the

 

possibility of an unwanted pregnancy by getting her married

 

as soon as possible."

 

The judge's shoulders slumped forward and he answered

 

in a low, heartbroken voice. "Yes."

 

Alex closed her eyes and let go a long, silent breath. Tension

 

ebbed from her like a wave receding from the shore.

 

"Judge Wallace, who killed my mother? Who was Angus

 

protecting when he asked you to hustle Buddy Hicks through

 

the legal system?"

 

He faced her. "I don't know. As God is my witness, I

 

don't. I swear it on my years as a judge."

 

She believed him and said so. As unobtrusively as possible,

 

she collected her things. When she reached the door

 

of his office, he spoke her name in a thin voice.

 

"Yes?"

 

"If this ever comes to trial, will it be essential to your case

 

for all this to come out in court?"

 

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."

 

"Stacey . . ." He paused to clear his throat. "I wasn't

 

lying when I said she didn't know about my agreement with

 

Angus."

 

Alex repeated, "I'm sorry."

 

He nodded gravely. She stepped into the anteroom and

 

closed the door behind her. The secretary shot her a resentful

 

look, which wasn't entirely undeserved. She had badgered

 

him into telling the truth. It had been necessary, but she hadn't

 

enjoyed doing it.

 

She was waiting for the elevator when she heard the gun

 

 

 

 

 

shot. "Oh, God, no." She whispered the words, but wasn't

 

even aware of saying them as she dropped her briefcase and

 

raced back toward the end of the corridor. Mrs. Lipscomb

 

was at the door to his office. Alex shoved her aside and ran

 

in ahead of her.

 

What she saw brought her to an abrupt halt. Her scream

 

froze in her throat, but the secretary's echoed through the

 

chamber and into the hallways.

 

 

 

Forty-one

 

 

 

A stream of secretaries, bailiffs, and other courthouse employees

 

had gathered at the door of Judge Wallace's chambers

 

within sixty seconds of the gunshot.

 

Reede, the first person to make it upstairs from the basement,

 

shouldered his way through them, barking orders

 

to the deputies who had followed him. "Clear everybody

 

out!"

 

He instructed one to call an ambulance and another to

 

cordon off the hallway. He placed a comforting arm around

 

Mrs. Lipscomb, who was weeping hysterically, and commissioned

 

Imogene, Pat Chastain's secretary, to take her

 

away. He then bore down on Alex.

 

"Go to my office, lock yourself in, and stay there, understand?"

 

She stared back at him blankly. "Understand?"

 

he repeated loudly, giving her a shake. Still incapable of

 

speech, she nodded.

 

To another deputy, he said, "See that she gets to my office.

 

Don't let anybody in."

 

The officer led her away. Before she left the judge's cham-

 

 

 

hers, she saw Reede look toward the grisly sight at the desk.

 

He ran his hand through his hair and muttered, "Shit."

 

In his office on the lower level, Alex passed the time by

 

pacing, weeping, gnashing her teeth, staring into space. She

 

agonized in her own private hell over Judge Joseph Wallace's

 

suicide.

 

Her head was pounding so fiercely, the stitches in her scalp

 

felt like they would pop. She had failed to bring along her

 

medication. A frantic search through the sheriffs desk didn't

 

even produce an aspirin tablet. Was the man totally immune

 

to pain?

 

She was light-headed and nauseated and her hands refused

 

to get warm, though they perspired profusely. The ancient

 

plaster ceiling conducted every sound from above, but she

 

couldn't identify them. There was an endless parade of footsteps.

 

The office provided her refuge from the confusion, but

 

she was desperate to know what was happening in the rooms

 

and hallways overhead.

 

She was chin deep in despair. The facts pointed toward an

 

inexorable truth that she didn't want to acknowledge. Judge

 

Wallace's confession to a cover-up further implicated her

 

chief suspects.

 

Caught in a bind, Angus would have looked out for himself

 

without feeling any remorse. By the same token, he would

 

have bribed the judge in order to protect Junior, and probably

 

done no less for Reede. But of the three, which had actually

 

gone into the stable that night and murdered Celina?

 

When Reede flung open the door, Alex whirled around,

 

startled. She'd been staring out the window. She didn't know

 

how long she had waited in the room, but she realized suddenly

 

that it was getting dark outside when he flipped on the

 

light switch. She was still ignorant of what was transpiring

 

upstairs and at the front of the courthouse.

 

Reede gave her a hard look, but said nothing. He poured

 

himself a cup of coffee and sipped from it several times.

 

"Why is it lately that every time something happens in this

 

town, you're involved?"