Best Kept Secrets

He took umbrage. His face puffed up like an adder. "Did

 

you send my wife some of your ill-gotten money?"

 

"Yes. From the looks of her and your kids, I thought she

 

could put it to good use."

 

"We don't need your money."

 

Nora Gail sat forward and, with a lazy smile, spoke softly

 

to Fergus. "You haven't thrown it back in my face, either,

 

have you?"

 

His mouth puckered like a drawstring purse. "I never reject

 

a gift that God so generously bestows."

 

"No, I'm sure you don't." Nora Gail complacently

 

dropped two cubes of sugar into her coffee. "That's why I

 

want to make a deal with you, Reverend Plummet."

 

"I don't deal with the ungodly. I came here as a messenger

 

of God, to warn you of His wrath, to hear your confession

 

of--"

 

"How would you like a new church?"

 

The flow of evangelism ceased abruptly. "Huh?"

 

Idly, Nora Gail stirred her coffee. "How would you like

 

a new church? A big, grand church that would put all the

 

others in town to shame, even the new First Baptist." She

 

paused to sip her coffee. "I can see I've left you speechless,

 

which in itself is a blessing."

 

Again, she smiled like a cat that had just licked clean a

 

saucer of cream. "As soon as Purcell Downs is completed,

 

I'm going to be very rich and very respectable. It would be

 

to your benefit, preacher, to accept my generous donations,

 

which would be sizable and given on a regular basis. Then,

 

when Texas Monthly or '60 Minutes' comes out here to

 

interview me as one of the state's richest businesswomen,

 

they can also report what a generous and benevolent person

 

I am.

 

"And in return for this fancy church I'll build you," she

 

said, leaning forward again, "I would expect you to keep

 

your loud mouth shut about racetrack gambling. There are

 

plenty other sins to keep you occupied. If you run out of

 

sermon material, I'll be more than glad to provide you a list

 

of sins, because I've committed them all, sugar."

 

 

 

He was gaping like a fish washed ashore. The madam

 

definitely had his attention.

 

"And, you wouldn't be pulling any more stunts like you

 

did at the Minton ranch a week or so back. Yes," she said,

 

holding up her heavily jeweled hand to stem his denials, "I

 

know you did it. You caused a valuable horse to get put

 

down, and that really chaps my ass."

 

Her eyes narrowed on him. "If you do anything that stupid

 

again, I'll pull the pulpit right out from under you, preacher

 

man. I make plans, see, and I knock down anybody who

 

stands in the way of them. If you have a problem you want

 

solved, come to me. Leave the revenge-getting to somebody

 

who knows how to get it and not get caught." She leaned

 

back in her chair. "Well?"

 

"You've . . . you've given me a lot to think about."

 

"Not good enough. I want your answer today. Right now.

 

Do you want to become a religious big shot with a shiny new

 

church, or do you want to go to jail? Because, you see, if

 

you don't say yes to my offer, I'll call my good buddy Reede

 

Lambert and tell him I've got an eyewitness to that vigilante

 

raid out at the ranch. What's it gonna be, sugar--a pulpit or

 

prison?"

 

Fergus swallowed visibly. He struggled with himself, with

 

his conscience, but not for long. His head gave one swift nod

 

of agreement.

 

"Good. Oh, one other thing," Nora Gail continued in the

 

same lilting voice. "Stop treating my sister like a doormat.

 

You were overheard dressing her down in public at the sheriffs

 

office the other night. If I ever get wind of it happening

 

again, I'll personally cut off your pitiful pecker and feed it

 

to the next dog I see. Okay?"

 

He swallowed hard.

 

"I'm sending Wanda Gail to a spa up in Dallas, where

 

she'll stay and be pampered for two weeks, which is little

 

enough vacation from you. How do you expect to attract folks

 

to your new church if your own wife looks like a downtrodden

 

toad? This summer your kids'll go to camp. They're gonna

 

 

 

have new bicycles and baseball gloves, because I'm overturning

 

your rule about no games of any kind and signing

 

them up for Little League next spring." She winked. "Their

 

Aunt Nora Gail is gonna be the best goddamn thing that ever

 

happened to those kids. Are you getting all this, preacher?"

 

Again, Plummet gave a brusque nod.

 

"Good." She sat back in her chair, calmly swinging a

 

shapely leg back and forth through the slit of her robe. ' 'Now

 

that we've cleared the air, let's talk terms. You'll receive the

 

first donation the day the licensing is finalized, and one on

 

the first of each month after that. The checks will be drawn

 

on the NGB, Incorporated account. I'm going to need the tax

 

deduction," she said with a throaty laugh.

 

Then, dismissing Fergus, she looked at her sister. ' 'Wanda

 

Gail, don't wait till I send you to Dallas. Use the money I

 

sent you the other day to buy you and your kids new clothes.

 

And for crissake, do something with your hair. It looks like

 

shit."

 

Wanda's eyes misted. "Thank you, thank you."

 

Nora Gail reached out to touch her sister's hand, but

 

thought better of it and lit one of her black cigarettes instead.

 

Through a dense cloud of acrid smoke, she replied, "You're

 

welcome, sugar."

 

 

 

Forty-four

 

 

 

"Junior?"

 

He turned away from the bar, where he'd been mixing his

 

second drink in ten minutes. ' 'Good morning, Mother. Would you like a Bloody Mary?"

 

 

 

Sarah Jo crossed the room and yanked the bottle of vodka

 

from his hand. "What's the matter with you?" she asked,

 

speaking in a much harsher tone than she usually used with

 

him. "Why are you drinking this early?"

 

"It's not that early, considering what time I got up."

 

"You went out. I heard you leave. Where'd you go?"

 

"I'd like to know that myself," Angus said, coming into

 

the room. "I need to talk to you."

 

"Let me guess," Junior said with feigned cheerfulness,

 

"it's about Judge Wallace."

 

"That's right."

 

"And my marriage to Stacey."

 

"Yes," Angus said reluctantly.

 

"I'll bet you're going to tell me why it was so all-fired

 

important that I marry her when I did."

 

"It was for your own good."

 

"That much you told me twenty-five years ago. It was a

 

trade-off, wasn't it? You got him to close Celina's murder

 

case in exchange for my marriage to Stacey. Am I getting

 

warm? Apparently, so was Alex. When she confronted the

 

judge with her hypothesis, he killed himself."

 

Looking faint, Sarah Jo covered her mouth. Angus responded

 

with anger. His hands flexed into fists at his sides.

 

"It was the best thing to do at the time. I couldn't allow an

 

in-depth investigation. To protect my family and my business,

 

I had no choice but to ask the judge that favor."

 

"Did Stacey know about it?"

 

"Not from me. I doubt that Joe ever told her."

 

"Thank God for that." Junior dropped into a chair. His

 

head hung dejectedly. "Dad, you know as well as I do that

 

Gooney Bud was innocent.''

 

"I know no such thing."

 

"Come on. He was harmless. You knew he didn't kill

 

Celina, but you let him be punished for it. Why didn't you

 

just let things take their natural course? In the long run, we'd

 

all have been better off."

 

"You know that's not so, Junior."

 

 

 

"Do I?" He raised his head and looked at his parents with

 

hot, intense eyes. "You know who Reede has in his bed this

 

morning, looking all soft and sexy and satiated? Alex." He

 

flopped back against the easy chair's cushions and rested his

 

head. With a bitter, humorless laugh, he said, "Celina's daughter. Jesus, can you beat that?"

 

"Alex spent the night with Reede?" Angus thundered.

 

Sarah Jo made a sniffing sound of disgust. "That doesn't

 

surprise me."

 

"Why didn't you keep it from happening, Junior?" Angus

 

demanded.

 

Junior, sensing his father's rising temper, shouted, "I

 

tried!"

 

"Evidently, not hard enough. It's your bed she's supposed

 

to be in by now, not Reede's."

 

"She's a grown woman. She didn't need my permission

 

to go to bed with him. With anybody.'' Junior pushed himself

 

out of the chair and headed for the bar.

 

Sarah Jo blocked his path. "I don't like the girl. She's as

 

trashy as her mother, but if you wanted her for yourself, why

 

did you let Reede Lambert have her?''

 

"It's more critical than that, Sarah Jo," Angus said tightly.

 

"Our future rested on Alex's opinion of us. I was hoping

 

she would become part of the family. As usual, Junior fell

 

down on the job."

 

"Don't criticize him, Angus."

 

"Why the hell not? He's my son. I'll criticize him if I

 

damn well feel like it." Then, curbing his impatience with

 

her, he exhaled a heavy sigh. "Too late now to be bawling

 

over spilled milk. We've got a bigger problem than Junior's

 

love life. I'm afraid we're extremely vulnerable to prosecution."

 

He left the room and slammed out the front door.

 

At the bar, Junior poured himself a straight vodka. Sarah

 

Jo grabbed his arm as he raised the glass to his lips. "When

 

are you going to learn that you're as good as Reede? Better. You've disappointed your father again. When are you going

 

to do something to make him proud of you? Junior, my

 

 

 

darling, it's time you grew up and seized the initiative for a

 

change."

 

 

 

Alex stared at Reede with wordless disbelief. He calmly

 

swept the spilled coffee grounds off the counter with the back

 

of his hand and continued to fill the filtered basket of the

 

coffee maker. Once it was dripping boiling coffee into the

 

glass carafe, he turned to face her.

 

"You look like you've swallowed a marble. Isn't that what

 

you expected to hear?"

 

"Is it true?" she asked hoarsely. "Did you kill her?"

 

He looked away, staring at nothing for several moments,

 

then back into her eyes, penetrating them. "No, Alex. I did

 

not kill Celina. If I had wanted to, I would have done it before

 

that night, and with my bare hands. I would have felt that it

 

was justifiable homicide. I wouldn't have gone to the trouble

 

of stealing a scalpel. I sure as hell wouldn't have let that

 

unfortunate retarded man take the rap for me."

 

She stepped into the circle of his arms and hugged him

 

tight. "I believe you, Reede."

 

"Well, that's something, I guess." Holding her close, he

 

moved his hands over her back. She nuzzled his chest.

 

He made a low sound of arousal, but set her away from

 

him. "The coffee's ready."

 

"Don't push me away, please. I'm not ready to stop hugging."

 

"Neither am I," he said, stroking her cheek, "buthugging

 

isn't all I want to do, and I have a strong feeling that our

 

conversation isn't going to be conducive to romance." He

 

poured two mugs of coffee and carried them to the table.

 

"Why do you say that?" She sat down across from him.

 

"Because you want to know if I know who went into the

 

barn that night."

 

"Do you?"

 

"No, I don't," he said with an emphatic shake of his head.

 

"I swear to God I don't."

 

"But you know it was either Junior or Angus."

 

He shrugged noncommittally.

 

 

 

"You've never wanted to know which, have you?"

 

"What difference does it make?"

 

She was aghast. "It makes a difference to me. It should

 

to you."

 

"Why? Knowing won't change a damn thing. It won't

 

bring Celina back. It won't alter your unhappy childhood or

 

mine. Will it make your grandmother love you? No."

 

Reading her horrified expression, he said, "Yes, Alex, I

 

know that's why you've appointed yourself Celina's avenger.

 

Merle Graham always had to have a scapegoat. Whenever

 

Celina did something she considered wrong, I usually caught

 

the blame for it. 'That Lambert kid,' she used to call me,

 

always with a sour expression on her face.

 

"So it doesn't surprise me that she laid a lifelong guilt trip

 

on you. She wouldn't take the blame for Celina's mistakes

 

upon herself. And she wouldn't admit that Celina, like every

 

other human being ever to grace this earth, did what she

 

damned well pleased when she damned well felt like it, with

 

or without motivation. That left you, the only real innocent

 

in this whole goddamn affair, to place the blame on."

 

He drew in a deep breath. "So, with all that in mind, what

 

good can it possibly do anybody to know who killed her?"

 

"I've got to know, Reede," she said, close to tears. "The

 

murderer was also a thief. He robbed me. My mother would

 

have loved me if she had lived. I know she would have."

 

"For crissake, she didn't even want you, Alex," he

 

shouted. "No more than my mother wanted me. I didn't go

 

on any quests after her."

 

"Because you're afraid to," she yelled back.

 

"Afraid?"

 

"Afraid of being hurt by what you find out."

 

"Not afraid," he said. "Indifferent."

 

"Well, I'm not, thank God. I'm not as cold and unfeeling

 

as you."

 

"You thought I was hot enough last night," he sneered.

 

"Or did you stay a technical virgin this long by going down

 

on all your dates?"

 

She flinched as if he'd struck her. Hurt beyond belief, she