“That ‘opportunity’ cost two men their lives.”
“Right. It’s high drama, and you need to take advantage of it. It’s a shame you didn’t alert someone to your visit with the widow. That would have made great press.”
She regretted now telling Marilyn about her condolence call. Her expression must’ve indicated her disapproval of Marilyn’s callousness.
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving her unlit cigarette. “I’m an insensitive bitch, but it’s been a day and a half since the shooting. We need to start making hay.”
“I can’t compromise the ongoing police investigation.”
“What’s to investigate? It’s not like there’s a big freaking mystery here. They got the guy.”
Holly didn’t correct her. Like the rest of the world, Marilyn would learn of the mishap tomorrow. Holly anticipated an explosive reaction from her campaign manager, and she was too frazzled to deal with it tonight.
Marilyn was pouring her second vodka. “Tomorrow, you need to appear looking appropriately saddened, but resolved that nothing like yesterday’s tragedy will ever happen again. ‘Not in my courtroom. Not in my county.’ See where I’m going? Make it an issue of your campaign.”
“In other words, exploit it.”
“Hell, yes, it’s exploitative. But… Here.” She slid an issue of the local newspaper from the outside pocket of her bulging briefcase and placed it on the coffee table. “I saw this in the convenience store when I stopped for cigarettes. Greg Sanders is exploiting the hell out of it.”
In the photo accompanying the front-page story, her opponent was captured with his fist raised high above his head.
“He looks like a fire-breathing evangelist,” Holly said. “I believe the picture was taken as he was sowing seeds of uncertainty about my past, which suddenly has become shady. It’s a scattershot attack. There’s no basis whatsoever for any of his sly implications. Who would take him seriously?”
“Voters.”
“Did you read the quote from Governor Hutchins? He stands by his decision to appoint me.”
“Of course he does. In typical public official fashion, he’s covering his ass.” Marilyn fixed her with a stare. “Is your heart still in this, Holly? Do you want to keep that bench or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then you had better get your butt in gear.”
“For heaven’s sake, Marilyn, cut me some slack. If I’m less than my sparkly self, it’s because I’m tired to the point of collapse. I’ve had a grueling two days. I’m—”
“Oh, boo-hoo. I’m not your mother. I’m not your best friend and confidante. I’m your campaign manager. You’re paying me to see to it that you win.”
“I will win.”
“Not if you stay soft on something as earthshaking as a goddamn fatal shooting in your courtroom.” Slapping her fist into her other palm, she said, “Yes, your opponent’s ranting is ridiculous, but you must confront it. If you don’t, it will look like there is something shady in your past.”
She stopped and eyed Holly speculatively. “I’m trusting that’s not the case. You and Waters…?”
Holly merely glared.
“Okay. Your relationship was as pure as the driven snow.”
“It was.”
“But Sanders isn’t going to spring a nasty surprise, is he? A mental disorder during your teen years? Raging kleptomania? A love child? Illicit affair?”
Holly’s cheeks grew warm as she became aware of the sofa beneath her. But she shook her head in reply to Marilyn’s question.
“Well then, you need to go on record stating that you have no idea why this obviously unbalanced individual did what he did, but it sure as hell had nothing to do with you personally. You’re outraged over the death of your bailiff. Your bailiff. Make his murder a personal loss. You’re heartbroken.”
“Which it was, and which I am.”
“Then say so! It’s too bad Sanders beat you to the punch by setting up that fund for his widow and grandkids.”
“It was tasteless grandstanding.”
“Of course it was, but it gave him a platform.” She took a drink of vodka. “What we need is theater. We need—”
“What I need is sleep.” Holly replaced the throw pillow and stood up. “I can’t talk about it anymore tonight. Your Honor is calling a recess and going to bed.”
“I’m going to stay up for a while, thinking.”
“The guest room is tiny, but I think you’ll have everything you need. Good night.” She turned and started down the hall toward her bedroom.
“Would he be of any use to us?”
Holly stopped and turned back. “Who?”
“The Texas Ranger. Would he be any good on camera?”
Holly panicked at the thought of Marilyn approaching Crawford and talking about “theater” to advance her campaign. “Absolutely not.”
“He’s a hero.”
“But not a glory-seeker. The opposite, in fact. He’s shunned the limelight, too, and he’s adamant about protecting his daughter from it.”