Best Kept Secrets (6 page)

"I should say not," Stacey said, rising to his defense.

"You had no choice but to commit Gooney Bud to that hospital."

"I reviewed his medical records every year, took depositions from the doctors who treated him. That facility isn't a snake pit, you know. It's one of the finest hospitals in the state."

"Daddy, nobody is pointing a finger at you. Good Lord, all anybody has to do is review your record as judge. For more than thirty years, your reputation has remained unblemished."

He ran his hand over his thinning hair.' 'I just hate for this to come up right now. Maybe I should retire early, not wait till my birthday next summer to step down."

"You'll do no such thing, Your Honor. You'll stay on that bench until you're ready to retire, and not a day before. No little upstart fresh out of law school is going to run you off."

For all her starchy show of support, Stacey's eyes revealed her anxiety. "Did Angus say how the girl. . . what she looks like? Does she resemble Celina?"

"Some." The judge went to the front door and pulled it open. On his way out he regrettably mumbled over his shoulder,

"Angus said she was prettier."

Stacey sat woodenly on the arm of the sofa for a long time after the judge left, staring into space. She completely forgot about cleaning the noon meal dishes.

"Hello, Judge Wallace. My name is Alex Gaither. How do you do?"

Introductions were unnecessary. He had known who she was the minute he had stepped into the office outside his chambers. Mrs. Lipscomb, his secretary, had nodded toward a chair against the opposite wall. Turning, he saw a young woman--twenty-five, if his calculations were correct--sitting in the straight chair with all the poise and self-confidence of royalty. It was an air she had inherited from her mother.

He hadn't had much personal interaction with Celina Gaither, but he knew all about her through Stacey. The girls had been classmates through eleven years of public schooling.

Even whittling away Stacey's typical adolescent jealousy, he'd still painted an unflattering picture of a girl who knew she was beautiful, well liked, and who held all the boys in the class in the palm of her hand, including the only two who really mattered, Junior Minton and Reede Lambert.

Too many times to count, Stacey's heart had been broken because of Celina. For that reason alone the judge had despised her. And because this young woman was her daughter, he disliked her on sight.

"How do you do, Miss Gaither."

Judge Wallace shook her proffered hand, but no longer than was necessary to serve propriety. He found it difficult to consider this fashionable woman his colleague. He preferred lawyers who wore white shirts and worsted wool, not chic, short-skirted suits and fur. Viable members of the bar should emanate the faint smell of cigar smoke and leather-bound tomes, not a delicate perfume.

"Has District Attorney Chastain briefed you on why I'm.

here?"

"Yes. This morning. But I heard from Angus last night."

She tilted her head, as though to say that that information was interesting and worth storing away for future consideration.

He could have kicked himself for volunteering it.

The truth was, he was rather dazzled. Angus Minton had been right. Alexandra Gaither was better looking than her mother.

When she moved her head, a shaft of sunlight coming through the window blinds set her dark hair afire. The collar of her fur coat brushed her cheek, giving her complexion a glow as fresh and delectable as ripe apricots. Stacey had a similar coat, but it turned her complexion the color of cold ashes.

"Could I have a moment with you in your chambers, Judge Wallace?" she asked politely.

Needlessly, he consulted his wristwatch. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. Actually, I just stopped by to pick up my messages. I've got an appointment out of the office for the rest of the afternoon." Mrs. Lipscomb started with surprise, a dead giveaway that he was lying.

Alex pondered the toes of her shoes for a moment. "I hate to insist, but I must. This is very important, and I'm anxious to get the investigation underway as soon as possible. Before I can move forward, I need to verify some facts with you. It won't take very long." The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. "I'm certain your cooperation will be appreciated by my office in Austin."

Judge Wallace wasn't stupid; neither was Alex. She couldn't very well pull rank on him, but she could make him look bad with the Travis County D.A., who hobnobbed with the powers that be in the capital.

"Very well, please come in." He shrugged off his overcoat, asked Mrs. Lipscomb to hold his calls, then followed Alex into his chambers. "Have a seat."

"Thank you."

His stomach was burning in the center of his gut like a crashed meteor. He'd drunk two swallows of antacid on his way back to the courthouse, but he could stand another kick.

Alex didn't appear the least bit rattled. She sat down across the desk from him and gracefully shrugged out of her coat.

"Let's get to it, Miss Gaither," he said imperiously.

"What do you want to know?"

Alex opened her briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers.

Inwardly, the judge groaned. ' 'I've read the transcript of Bud Hicks's hearing, and I have some questions about it."

"Such as?"

"What was your rush?"

"I beg your pardon?"

' 'Bud Hicks was arraigned on a charge of first-degree murder and held without bail in the Purcell County jail. His competency hearing was held three days later."

"So?"

"Isn't that a rather brief period of time in which to weigh a man's future?"

The judge leaned back in his cordovan leather chair, which had been a gift from his daughter, hoping to impress the young attorney with his composure. "Maybe the docket was loaded and I was trying to clear it out. Or maybe it was a slack time and I was able to act quickly. I don't remember.

It was twenty-five years ago."

She lowered her eyes to the notepad resting on her lap.

"You had only two psychiatrists examine Mr. Hicks."

"His retardation was obvious, Miss Gaither."

"I'm not questioning that."

"He was, to put it unkindly, the town idiot. I don't mean to sound cruel, but that's what he was. He was tolerated.

People saw him, but looked through him, if you know what I mean. He was a harmless fixture--"

"Harmless?"

Again the judge could have bitten his tongue. "Until the night he killed your mother."

"No jury convicted him of that, Judge."

Judge Wallace wet his lips, chagrined. "Of course." He tried to avoid her level gaze so he could collect his thoughts.

"I felt that two psychiatric analyses would be adequate, in this particular case."

"No doubt I would agree with you, if the analyses hadn't been so divergent."

"Or, if your mother hadn't been the victim of the crime,"

the judge said, getting in a shot.

She bristled. "I'm going to disregard that, Judge Wallace."

"Well, isn't that what this is all about? Or do you, for some reason unknown to me, want to question my integrity and undermine a judgment I made twenty-five years ago?"

"If you've got nothing to hide, then you've got no reason to believe that your excellent record will be marred by my asking a few questions, do you?"

"Proceed," he said stiffly.

"The two court-appointed psychiatrists disagreed on Mr.

Hicks's mental condition the night of my mother's murder.

This was the glitch that first intrigued me. After calling District Attorney Harper's attention to it, he agreed that the case should be reinvestigated.

' 'One psychiatrist clearly believed that Hicks was incapable of committing such an act of violence. The other said he was.

Why didn't you seek a third, tie-breaking opinion?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"I disagree, Judge." She paused a moment, then looked up at him without lifting her head. "You were golf partners with the doctor you ruled in favor of. The other psychiatrist was from out of town. That was the first and only time he ever appeared in your court as an expert witness."

Judge Wallace's face became red with indignation. "If you doubt my honesty, I suggest you consult with the doctors themselves, Miss Gaither."

"I've tried. Unfortunately, both are deceased." She met his hostile gaze coolly. "I did, however, consult with the last doctor to treat Mr. Hicks. He says you punished the wrong man, and has given me an affidavit to that effect."

"Miss Gaither." He rose partially from his chair and slapped the top of his desk. He was angry, but he also felt naked and vulnerable. The soft knock on his door was a godsend. "Yes?"

Sheriff Lambert strolled in.

"Reede!" Alex wouldn't have been surprised if the judge had rushed across the room and embraced him. He seemed that glad to see him. "Come in."

"Mrs. Lipscomb said you weren't to be disturbed, but when she told me who was with you, I convinced her that I might be of service."

"To whom?" Alex asked tartly.

Reede sauntered to the chair next to hers and dropped into it. Insolent green eyes moved over her. "To anybody who needs servicing."

Alex chose to ignore the double entendre and hoped he would ignore the mounting color in her face. She directed her attention to the judge.

"Miss Gaither was curious to know why I ruled Mr. Hicks incompetent to stand trial. Since she didn't know him, she can't appreciate how easily he fit the criteria of being unable to understand the charges against him and assist in his own defense."

"Thank you, Judge Wallace," she said, seething, "but I know the criteria. What I don't know is why you made the ruling so hastily."

"I saw no need for a postponement," the judge replied, obviously more at ease now that Reede was there. "I told you earlier that most people in town merely tolerated Hicks.

Your mother, to her credit, was kind to him. Gooney Bud latched on to her, in a pathetic way. I'm sure he was often a nuisance, the way he followed her around like a devoted little puppy. Right, Reede?"

The sheriff nodded. "Celina wouldn't let anybody pick on him when she was around. He used to give her presents, you know, mesquite beans, rocks, stuff like that. She always thanked him like he'd given her the crown jewels."

"I figure that Gooney Bud mistook her kindness for a deeper emotion," Judge Wallace said. "He followed her into the Mintons' stable that night and, uh, tried to force his attentions on her."

"Rape her?" Alex asked bluntly.

"Well, yes," the judge said, flustered. "And when she rebuffed him, he couldn't handle the rejection, and ..."

"Stabbed her thirty times," Alex supplied.

"You force me to be insensitive, Miss Gaither." Joe Wallace looked at her reproachfully.

Alex crossed her legs. Her stockings made a slippery, silky sound that drew the sheriffs attention to them. She caught him staring at her hemline, but tried not to let it bother her as she continued to question the jittery judge.

"Let me make sure I understand. It's your contention that the murder wasn't premeditated, but a crime of passion?"

"As you said, it's conjecture."

"Okay, but for the sake of argument, let's say that's the way it was. If Bud Hicks was acting out of extreme provocation, outrage, uncontrollable lust, wouldn't he have utilized a pitch-fork, or a rake, or something else that was handy?

What was he doing with a scalpel if he didn't enter that stable with the intention of killing her?"

"That's easy," Reede said. Alex looked at him sharply.

"A mare had foaled that day. It was a difficult birth. We called the vet in to assist."

"How? Did he have to do an episiotomy?" she asked.

"In the long run, no. We were finally able to pull the foal.

But Doc Collins's bag was right there. The scalpel could have fallen out. I'm guessing, of course, but it's logical to assume that Gooney Bud saw it and picked it up."

"That's a very broad assumption, Sheriff Lambert."

"Not so broad. As I've told you, Gooney Bud collected all kinds of stuff like that."

"He's right, Miss Gaither," Judge Wallace hastened to say. "Ask anybody. Something as shiny as a surgical instrument would have attracted his attention the moment he went into the stable."

"Was he in the stable that day?" she asked Reede.

"Yes. There were people coming and going all day, Gooney Bud among them."

Alex wisely decided that it was time to retreat and regroup.

She gave the judge a peremptory thank you and left the chambers. The sheriff followed her out. As soon as they'd cleared the anteroom, she turned to confront him.

"From now on, I'll thank you not to coach whoever I'm questioning."

He assumed an innocent look. "Is that what I was doing?"

"You know damn well it was. I've never heard such a flimsy, farfetched explanation of a murder in my life. And I would eat alive any attorney who attempted to defend a client with it."

"Hmm, that's funny."

"Funny?"

"Yeah." She was subjected to another sly, arrogant once-over

"I was thinking you were the one who looked good enough to eat."

Blood rushed to her head. She attributed it to outrage.

"Don't you take me seriously, Mr. Lambert?"

His insolence dissolved along with his insinuating smile.

"You're damn right I do, Counselor," he whispered fiercely.

"Damn right I do."

Five

"Calm down, Joe." Angus Minton was angled back in his red leather recliner. He loved this chair. His wife, Sarah Jo, loathed it.

When he spotted Junior standing in the doorway of his den, he waved him inside. Covering the mouthpiece of the cordless phone he whispered to his son, "Joe Wallace is in a tizzy."

"Now, Joe, you're jumping to conclusions and getting upset over nothing," he said into the mouthpiece. "She's just doing what she thinks is her job. After all, her mama was murdered. Now that she's got a law degree and a highfalutin job as a prosecutor, she's on a crusade. You know how these young career women are."