Best Kept Secrets

stared at him across the table. His expression was closed and

 

hostile, but her vulnerability defeated him. He muttered a

 

string of swear words and dug into his eye sockets with his

 

thumb and middle finger.

 

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's just that you're so

 

goddamn aggravating when it comes to this." He lowered

 

his hand. His green eyes appealed to her. "Give it up, Alex.

 

Relent."

 

"I can't."

 

"Won't."

 

She reached for his hand. "Reede, we're never going to

 

agree on this, and I don't want to argue with you." Her face

 

turned soft. "Not after last night."

 

"Some people would think that what went on in there,"

 

he said, indicating the living room, "would erase the past."

 

"Is that why you made it happen, hoping that I'd forgive

 

and forget?"

 

He yanked his hand away. "You're dead set on pissing

 

me off, aren't you?"

 

"No, I'm not trying to provoke you. Just please understand

 

why I can't give up when I'm this close."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"Then just accept it. Help me."

 

"How? By pointing a finger at either my mentor or my

 

best friend?"

 

"Junior didn't sound like a best friend a while ago."

 

"That was injured pride and jealousy talking."

 

"He was jealous the night Celina was killed, too. She had

 

injured his pride. She turned down his marriage proposal

 

because she was still in love with you. Could that have driven

 

him to murder her?"

 

"Think about it, Alex," he said with annoyance. "If Junior

 

did blow his top at her, would he have had that scalpel handy

 

to start slashing? And do you honestly think, no matter how

 

enraged he was, that Junior could kill anybody?"

 

"Then, it was Angus," she said softly.

 

"I don't know." Angrily, Reede slung himself out of his

 

 

 

chair and began to pace. This was a familiar, haunting hypothesis.

 

"Angus was against Junior marrying Celina."

 

"Angus is more volatile than Junior," she said, almost to

 

herself. "I've seen him angry. I imagine that when he's

 

crossed, he could be capable of killing, and he certainly took

 

desperate measures to have the case closed before the evidence

 

could come around to him."

 

"Where are you going?" Reede jerked to attention when

 

she left her chair and headed toward the bedroom.

 

"I've got to talk to him."

 

"Alex!" He went after her. He rattled the knob of the

 

bathroom door, but she'd locked it behind herself. "I don't

 

want you to go over there."

 

"I've got to." She opened the door, already dressed, and

 

stuck out her hand. "Can I borrow your Blazer?"

 

He stared at her hard. "You'll wreck his life. Have you

 

thought of that?"

 

"Yes. And every time I feel a pang of regret, I remind

 

myself of the lonely, loveless childhood I spent while he

 

was prospering." She closed her eyes and pulled herself

 

together. "I don't want to destroy Angus. I'm only doing

 

my job, doing what's right. I actually like him. If circumstances

 

were different, I could grow very fond of him. But

 

the circumstances are what they are, and I can't change

 

them. When a person does something wrong, he's got to

 

be punished."

 

"All right." He grabbed her arm and drew her up close.

 

"What's the punishment for a prosecutor sleeping with a

 

suspect?"

 

"You're no longer a suspect."

 

"You didn't know that last night."

 

Furious, she wrested her arm free and ran through the

 

house, grabbing his keys off the end table where she'd seen

 

him drop them the night before.

 

Reede let her go and placed a call to his downtown office. Without preamble, he barked, "Get me a car out here on the

 

double."

 

 

 

"They're all out, Sheriff. All except the Jeep."

 

"That'll do. Just get it here."

 

 

 

Forty-five

 

 

 

Stacey Wallace Minton shocked her friends by walking into

 

the living room fully dressed, dry-eyed, and seemingly composed.

 

They had been speaking in hushed tones in deference

 

to her suffering. They had believed that she was getting some

 

much-needed rest in preparation for the ordeal facing her.

 

Tupperware and Pyrex dishes, filled with salads and casseroles

 

and desserts, had been delivered to the house by a

 

steady stream of concerned acquaintances. Without exception,

 

all had asked, "How's she taking it?"

 

By all appearances, Stacey was taking her father's death

 

very well. As always, she was impeccably dressed and

 

groomed. Except for the grayish circles beneath her eyes, she

 

could have been on her way to a club meeting.

 

"Stacey, did we wake you? We put a note on the door,

 

asking people to knock instead of ringing the bell."

 

"I've been awake for a while," she told her friends. "What

 

time did Junior leave?"

 

"Sometime during the night. Would you like something

 

to eat? Lordy, there's enough food in there to feed an army.''

 

"No, thank you, nothing right now."

 

"Mr. Davis called. He needs to discuss the funeral arrangements

 

with you, but said that could be at your convenience."

 

"I'll contact him later this morning."

 

As her friends watched in stupefaction, she went to the

 

 

 

hall closet and took out her coat. They exchanged concerned

 

and bewildered glances.

 

"Stacey, dear, where are you going?"

 

"Out."

 

"We'll be glad to run errands for you. That's what we're

 

here for."

 

"I appreciate the offer, but this is something I've got to

 

do myself."

 

"What are we supposed to tell people when they drop by

 

to see you?" one asked, anxiously following her to the front

 

door.

 

Stacey turned and calmly replied, "Tell them whatever

 

you like."

 

 

 

Angus didn't seem surprised to see Alex when she walked

 

into his den unannounced. He was seated on the leather sofa,

 

massaging the toe that continued to give him pain. "I didn't

 

hear you come in," he said. "I just got in from the stables

 

myself. We've got a two-year-old gelding with shin bucks,

 

which can't be a damn bit more painful than gout."

 

"Lupe told me you were back here."

 

"Do you want some breakfast? Coffee?"

 

"No, thank you, Angus." Hospitable to the bitter end,

 

Alex thought. "Is this a convenient time-for us to talk?"

 

He laughed. "As convenient a time as any, I reckon, considering

 

what we're going to talk about.'' She sat down beside

 

him on the sofa. He studied her with shrewd blue eyes. ' 'Did

 

Joe spill his guts before he killed himself?"

 

"He didn't invite me to his office to take a confession, if

 

that's what you mean," she answered, "but I know about

 

your deal with him. How did you talk Junior into going along

 

with it, Angus?"

 

"At that point in time," he said, making no effort to deny

 

her allegations, "the boy didn't care what happened to him.

 

Celina's death hit him so hard, he was married to Joe's girl

 

almost before he realized it. Know what? I'm not sure he

 

could have made it those first few months if Stacey hadn't

 

 

 

taken such good care of him. I never regretted making that

 

deal with Joe."

 

"Who were you protecting?"

 

Changing the subject abruptly, he said, "You look a little

 

worse for wear this morning. Did Reede ride you that hard

 

last night?"

 

Embarrassed, Alex ducked her head. "Junior told you?"

 

"Yes." He pulled on his boot, wincing as he worked the

 

sore toe into it. "Can't say that I'm surprised--disappointed,

 

but not surprised."

 

She lifted her head. "Why?"

 

"Like mother, like daughter. Reede always had an edge

 

over every other man with Celina. Who knows why? That's

 

just the way it was. Chemistry, I think they call it nowadays.''

 

He set his foot on the floor and leaned back against the tufted

 

sofa. "What's between you two?"

 

"It's more than chemistry."

 

"So, you love him?"

 

"Yes."

 

He drew a worried expression. "I'll caution you like a

 

daddy would, Alex. Reede's not an easy man to love. He

 

has a tough time showing affection, and an even tougher time

 

of accepting it. As old as he is, he's still bitter about his

 

mama up and leaving him when he was a baby."

 

"Is that why he found it impossible to forgive Celina for

 

getting involved with Al Gaither and having me?"

 

"I think so. He tried not to let on like it hurt him. Walked

 

around here with a chip on his shoulder as big as Texas. He

 

hid his feelings behind that I-don't-give-a-damn veneer, but

 

he was crushed just the same. I could tell. He didn't hold it

 

against you, you understand, but he could never quite forgive

 

your mother for cheating on him."

 

"What about Junior?"

 

"Junior couldn't forgive her for loving Reede more than

 

she loved him."

 

"But neither one of them killed her." She met him eye to

 

eye. "It was you, wasn't it?"

 

 

 

He stood up and moved to the window. He gazed out on

 

all that he had built from nothing and was liable to lose. The

 

ponderous silence in the room lasted for several minutes.

 

Finally, he said, "No, I didn't." Then, turning slowly, he

 

added, "But I wanted to."

 

"Why?"

 

"Your mother played games, Alex. She liked to. When I

 

first met her, she was still a little tomboyish. Things might

 

have gone fine if she'd stayed like that. But she grew older

 

and realized that she had a power over both of those boys--

 

sexual power. She began to use that in her games."

 

Alex's heart began to ache. She scarcely breathed. It was

 

like watching a horror movie and waiting for the monster to

 

finally rear his head. She wanted to see the whole picture,

 

but yet, she didn't. It would probably be ugly.

 

"I could see it happening," Angus was saying, "but there

 

wasn't much I could do about it. She played them against

 

each other."

 

His words echoed what Nora Gail had told her. The temptation

 

was just too strong.

 

"The older they got, the worse it got," Angus continued.

 

"The solid friendship between the boys was like a shiny

 

apple. Celina ate away at the core of it like a worm. I didn't

 

like her very much." He returned to the sofa and sat down.

 

"But I desired her."

 

When Alex was sure her ears hadn't deceived her, she

 

couldn't hold back her gasp. "What?"

 

Angus smiled crookedly. "Remember, this was twenty-five

 

years and thirty pounds ago. I didn't have this," he said,

 

rubbing his protruding belly, "and I had more hair. If I do

 

say so, I was still considered a lady-killer."

 

"It's not that I doubt your appeal, Angus, it's just that I

 

had no idea--"

 

"Neither did anyone else. It was my little secret. Even she

 

didn't know . . . until the night she died."

 

Alex groaned his name. The monster of truth wasn't only

 

ugly, it was hideous.

 

 

 

"Junior stormed out on his way to drown his sorrows in

 

booze. Celina came into this room. She sat right there, where

 

you're sitting now, and cried. She told me she didn't know

 

what to do. She loved Reede in a way she'd never love another

 

man. She loved Junior, but not enough to marry him. She

 

didn't know how she was going to raise you alone. Every

 

time she looked at you, she was reminded of the mistake that

 

had changed her future forever.

 

"On and on she went, expecting me to sympathize, when

 

all I could see was what a selfish little bitch she was. She'd

 

brought all her hardships on herself. She didn't give a damn

 

how she hurt other people or played with their lives. She only

 

cared about how things affected her."

 

He shook his head with self-derision. "That didn't stop

 

me from wanting her. I wanted her more than ever. I think

 

I justified it to myself because I figured she deserved no better

 

than lust from a horny old man like me." He took a deep

 

breath. "Anyway, I made my pitch."

 

"You told her you . . . desired her?"

 

"I didn't come right out with it, no. I offered to set her

 

up in a house out of town, someplace close. I told her I'd

 

pay for everything. She wouldn't have to lift a finger, just

 

be accommodating when I could come see her. I expected

 

her to bring you along, of course, and Mrs. Graham, too,

 

though I doubt your grandma would ever have agreed to it.

 

In short," he concluded, "I asked her to be my mistress."

 

"What did she say?"

 

"Not a goddamn thing. She just looked at me for several

 

seconds, and then she burst out laughing." His eyes chilled

 

Alex to the bone when he added raspily, "And you know

 

how I hate having my ideas laughed at.''

 

"You filthy old son of a bitch."

 

Simultaneously, they turned toward the intrusive voice.

 

Junior, his face contorted with outrage, was standing in the

 

open doorway. He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at his

 

father. "You didn't want me to marry her because you wanted

 

her for yourself! You killed her because she turned down