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?"