Lone Star Winter (25 page)

“You wouldn't have turned it down, if I'd given you the chance,” he accused sarcastically. “You were laying it on thick.”

“Who was kissing whom in the alley?” she returned huskily.

He didn't like remembering that. He jerked his
wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes. “A moment of weakness. Shouldn't have happened. I'm not free anymore.”

Insinuating that he and Julie were much more than friends, Libby thought correctly. She looked past Jordan to Julie, who was just coming out of the courthouse looking elegant and cold as ice. She saw Libby standing with Jordan and her lips collided furiously.

“Jordan! Let's go!” she called to him angrily.

“I was only passing the time of day with him, Julie,” Libby told the older woman with a vacant smile.

“You keep your sticky hands to yourself, you little liar,” Julie told her as she passed on the steps. “Jordan is mine!”

“No doubt you mean his money is yours, right?” Libby ventured.

Julie drew back her hand and slapped Libby across the cheek as hard as she could. “Damn you!” she raged.

Libby was shocked at the unexpected physical reply, but she didn't retaliate. She just stood there, straight and dignified, with as much pride as she could muster. Around the two women, several citizens stopped and looked on with keen disapproval.

One of them was Officer Dana Hall, one of the two
police officers who had arrested Senator Merrill for drunk driving.

She walked right up to Libby. “That was assault, Miss Collins,” she told Libby. “If you want to press charges, I can arrest Miss Merrill on the spot.”

“Arrest!” Julie exploded. “You can't arrest me!”

“I most certainly can,” Officer Hall replied. “Miss Collins, do you want to press charges?”

Libby stared at Julie Merrill with cold pleasure, wondering how it would look on the front page of Jacobsville's newspaper.

“Wouldn't that put another kink in your father's reelection campaign?” Libby ventured softly.

Julie looked past Libby and suddenly burst into tears. She threw herself into Jordan Powell's arms. “Oh, Jordan, she's going to have me arrested!”

“No, she's not,” Jordan said curtly. He glanced at Libby. “She wouldn't dare.”

Libby cocked her head. “I wouldn't?” She glared at him. “Look at my cheek, Jordan.”

It was red. There was a very obvious handprint on it. “She insulted me,” Julie wailed. “I had every right to hit her back!”

“She never struck you, Miss Merrill,” Officer Hall
replied coldly. “Striking another person is against the law, regardless of the provocation.”

“I never meant to do it!” Julie wailed. She was sobbing, but there wasn't a speck of moisture under her eyes. “Please, Jordan, don't let them put me in jail!”

Libby and Officer Hall exchanged disgusted looks.

“Men are so damned gullible,” Libby remarked with a glare at Jordan, who looked outraged. “All right, Julie, have it your way. But you'd better learn to produce tears as well as broken sobs if you want to convince another woman that you're crying.”

“Jordan, could we go now?” Julie sobbed. “I'm just sick…!”

“Not half as sick as you'll be when your father loses the election, Julie,” Libby drawled sweetly, and walked up the steps with Officer Hall at her side. She didn't even look at Jordan as she went into the courthouse.

C
alhoun Ballenger's meeting with his volunteer staff was a cheerful riot of surprises. Libby found herself working with women she'd known only by name a few months earlier. Now she was suddenly in the cream of society, but with women who didn't snub her or look down their noses at her social position.

Libby was delighted to find herself working with Violet, who'd come straight from her job at Duke Wright's ranch for the meeting.

“This is great!” Violet exclaimed, hugging Libby. “I've missed working with you!”

“I've missed you, too, Violet,” Libby assured her. She shook her head as she looked at the other woman. “You look great!”

Violet grinned. She'd dropped at least two dress sizes. She was well-rounded, but no longer obese even to the most critical eye. She'd had her brown hair frosted and it was waving around her face and shoulders. She was wearing a low-cut dress that emphasized the size of her pretty breasts, and her small waist and voluptuous hips, along with high heels that arched her small feet nicely.

“I've worked hard at the gym,” Violet confessed. She was still laughing when her eyes collided with Blake Kemp's across the room. The expression left her face. She averted her eyes quickly. “Excuse me, won't you, Libby? I came with Curt. You, uh, don't mind, do you?” she added worriedly.

“Don't be silly,” Libby said with a genuine smile. “Curt's nice. So are you. I think you'd make a lovely couple…”

“Still happy with Duke Wright, Miss Hardy?” came a cold, biting comment from Libby's back.

Blake Kemp moved into view, his pale eyes expressive on Violet's pretty figure and the changes in the way she dressed.

“I'm…very happy with him, Mr. Kemp,” Violet said, clasping her hands together tightly. “If you'll excuse me…”

“You've lost weight,” Kemp said gruffly.

Violet's eyes widened. “And you actually noticed?”

The muscles in his face tautened. “You look…nice.”

Violet's jaw dropped. She was literally at a loss for words. Her eyes lifted to Kemp's and they stood staring at each other for longer than was polite, neither speaking or moving.

Kemp shifted restlessly on his long legs. “How's your mother?”

Violet swallowed hard. “She's not doing very well, I'm afraid. You know…about the exhumation?”

Kemp nodded. “They're still in the process of evaluating Curt and Libby's father's remains, as well, at the crime lab. So far, they have nothing to report.”

Violet looked beside him at Libby and winced. “I didn't know, Libby. I'm so sorry.”

“So am I, for you,” Libby replied. “We didn't want to do it, but we had to know for sure.”

“Will they really be able to tell anything, after all this time?” Violet asked Kemp, and she actually moved a step closer to him.

He seemed to catch his breath. He was looking at her oddly. “I assume so.” His voice was deeper, too. Involuntarily, his lean fingers reached out and touched Violet's long hair. “I like the frosting,” he said reluctantly. “It makes your eyes look…bluer.”

“Does it?” Violet asked, but her eyes were staring into his as if she'd found treasure there.

With an amused smile, Libby excused herself and joined her brother, who was talking to the police chief.

Cash Grier noticed her approach and smiled. He looked older somehow and there were new lines around his dark eyes.

“Hi, Chief,” she greeted him. “How's it going?”

“Don't ask,” Curt chuckled. “He's in the middle of a controversy.”

“So are we,” Libby replied. “We're on the wrong side of the election and Jordan Powell is furious at us.”

“We're on the right side,” Cash said carelessly. “The city fathers are in for a rude awakening.” He leaned down. “I have friends in high places.” He paused. “I also have friends in low places.” He grinned.

Libby and Curt burst out laughing, because they recognized the lines from a country song they'd all loved.

Calhoun Ballenger joined them, clapping Cash on the back affectionately. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “Even if it is putting another nail in your coffin with the mayor.”

“The mayor can kiss my…” Cash glanced at Libby and grinned. “Never mind.”

They all laughed.

“She's lived with me all her life,” Curt remarked. “She's practically unshockable.”

“How's Tippy?” Calhoun asked.

Cash smiled. “Doing better, thanks. She'd have come, too, but she's still having a bad time.”

“No wonder,” Calhoun replied, recalling the ordeal Tippy had been through in the hands of kidnappers. It had been in all the tabloids. “Good thing they caught the culprits who kidnapped her.”

“Isn't it?” Cash said, not giving away that he'd caught them, with the help of an old colleague. “Nice turnout, Calhoun,” he added, looking around them. “I thought you invited Judd.”

“I did,” Calhoun said at once, “but the twins have a cold.”

“Damn!” Cash grimaced. “I told Judd that he and Crissy needed to stop running that air conditioner all night!”

“It wasn't that,” Calhoun confided. “They went to the Coltrains' birthday party for their son—his second birthday—and that's where they got the colds.”

Cash sighed. “Poor babies.”

“He's their godfather,” Calhoun told Libby and Curt. “But he thinks Jessamina belongs to him.”

“She does,” Cash replied haughtily.

Nobody mentioned what the tabloids had said—that Tippy had been pregnant with Cash's child a few weeks earlier and lost it just before her ordeal with the kidnapping.

Libby diplomatically changed the subject. “Mr. Kemp said that you can put up campaign posters in our office windows,” she told Calhoun, “and Barbara's willing to let you put up as many as you like in her café,” she added with a grin. “She said she's never going to forgive Julie Merrill for making a scene there.”

Calhoun chuckled. “I've had that sort of offer all week,” he replied. “Nobody wants Senator Merrill back in office, but the city fathers have thrown their support behind him and he thinks he's unbeatable. What we really need is a change in city government, as well. We're on our second mayor in eight months and this one is afraid of his own shadow.”

“He's also Senator Merrill's nephew,” Curt added.

“Which is why he's trying to make my officers back down on those DWI charges,” Cash Grier interposed.

“I'd like to see it. Carlos Garcia wouldn't back down from anybody,” Calhoun mused. “Or Officer Dana Hall, either.”

“Ms. Hall came to my assistance at the courthouse this week,” Libby volunteered. “Julie Merrill slapped
me. Officer Hall was more than willing to arrest her, if I'd agreed to press charges.”

“Good for Dana,” Cash returned. “You be careful, Ms. Collins,” he added firmly. “That woman has poor impulse control. I wouldn't put it past her to try and run somebody down.”

“Neither would I,” Curt added worriedly. “She's already told Jordan some furious lies about us and he believes her.”

“She can be very convincing,” Libby said, not wanting to verbally attack Jordan even now.

“It may get worse now, with all of you backing me,” Calhoun told the small group. “I won't have any hard feelings if you want to withdraw your support.”

“Do I look like the sort of man who backs away from trouble?” Cash asked lazily, with a grin.

“Speaking of Duke Wright,” Libby murmured dryly, “he's throwing his support to Mr. Ballenger, too. But he had, uh, reservations about coming to the meeting.”

Cash chuckled. “I don't hold grudges.”

“Yes, but he does,” Calhoun said on a chuckle. “He'll get over it. He's got some personal problems right now.”

“Don't we all?” Cash replied wistfully, and his dark eyes were troubled.

Libby and Curt didn't add their two cents' worth, but they exchanged quiet looks.

 

The campaign was winding down for the primary, but all the polls gave Calhoun a huge lead over Merrill. Printed materials were ordered, along with buttons, pencils, bumper stickers and key chains. There was enough promotional matter to blanket the town and in the days that followed, Calhoun's supporters did exactly that in Jacobs County and the surrounding area in the state senatorial district that Merrill represented.

Julie Merrill was acting as her father's campaign manager and she was coordinating efforts for promotion with a group of teenagers she'd hired. Some of them were delinquents and there was a rash of vandalisms pertaining to the destruction of Calhoun's campaign posters.

Cash Grier, predictably, went after the culprits and rounded them up. He got one to talk and the newspapers revealed that Miss Merrill had paid the young man to destroy Calhoun's campaign literature. Julie denied it. But the vandalism stopped.

Meanwhile, acting mayor Ben Brady was mounting a fervent defense for Senator Merrill on the drunk-driving charges and trying to make things hot for the
two officers. He ordered them suspended and tried to get the city council to back him up.

Cash got wind of it and phoned Simon Hart, the state's attorney general. Simon phoned the city attorney and they had a long talk. Soon afterward, the officers were notified that they could stay on the job until the hearing the following month.

Meanwhile, the state crime lab revealed the results of its report to Blake Kemp. He walked up to Libby's desk while she was on the phone and waited impatiently for her to hang up.

“They can't find any evidence of foul play, Libby,” he said at once.

“And if there was any, they would?” she asked quickly.

He nodded. “I'm almost certain of it. The crime lab verified our medical examiner's diagnosis of myocardial infarction. So Janet's off the hook for that one, at least.”

Libby sat back with a long sigh and closed her eyes. “Thank God. I couldn't have lived with it if she'd poisoned Daddy and we never knew.”

He nodded. “On the other hand, they hit pay dirt with Violet's father,” he added.

She sat up straight. “Poison?”

“Yes,” he said heavily. “I'm not going to phone her.
I'm going over to Duke Wright's place to tell her in person. Then I'll take her home to talk to her mother. She'll need someone with her.”

Yes, she would, and Libby was secretly relieved that Kemp was going to be the person. Violet would need a shoulder to cry on.

“I'll phone Curt and tell him,” she said.

“Libby, give me half an hour first,” he asked quietly. “I don't want him to tell Violet.”

She wondered why, but she wasn't going to pry. “Okay.”

He managed a brief smile. “Thanks.”

“What about Janet?” she wondered miserably. “They still haven't found her.”

“They will. Now all we need is a witness who can place her with Mr. Hardy the night of his death, and we can have her arrested and charged with murder,” he replied.

“Chance would be a fine thing, Mr. Kemp,” she said heavily.

“Don't give up hope,” he instructed. “She's not going to get away with your inheritance. I promise.”

She managed a smile. “Thanks.”

 

But she wasn't really convinced. She went home that afternoon feeling lost and alone. She'd told Curt the
good news after Violet had gone home with Kemp. Curt had been as relieved as she had, but there was still the problem of probate. Everything was in Janet's name, as their father had instructed. Janet had the insurance money. Nobody could do anything with the estate until the will was probated and Janet had to sign the papers for that. It was a financial nightmare.

There was a message on the answering machine when Libby got home. She pushed the Play button and her heart sank right to her ankles.

“This is the loan officer at Jacobsville Savings and Loan,” came the pleasant voice. “We just wanted to remind you that your loan payment was due three days ago. Please call us if there's a problem.” The caller gave her name and position and her telephone number. The line went dead.

Libby sat down beside the phone and just stared at it. Curt had told her already that they weren't going to be able to make the payment. Jordan had assured her that he wasn't going to loan her the money to pay it. There was nobody else they would feel comfortable asking. She put her face in her hands and let the tears fall. The financial establishment would repossess the ranch. It wouldn't matter where Janet was or what state the probate action was in. They were going to lose their home.

 

She went out to the barn and ran the currycomb over Bailey, her father's horse. He was the last horse they had.

The barn leaked. It was starting to rain and Libby felt raindrops falling on her shoulder through a rip in the tin roof from a small tornado that had torn through a month earlier. The straw on the floor of the barn needed changing, but the hay crop had drowned in the flooding. They'd have to buy some. Libby looked down at her worn jeans, at the small hand resting on them. The tiger's eye ring her father had given her looked ominous in the darkened barn. She sighed and turned back to the horse.

“Bailey, I don't know what we're going to do,” she told the old horse, who neighed as if he were answering her.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up in the yard diverted her. She looked down the long aisle of the barn to see Jordan's pickup truck sitting at the entrance. Her heart skipped as he got out and came striding through the dirty straw, his cotton shirt speckled with raindrops that had escaped the wide brim of his white straw hat.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying to ignore him to finish her grooming job on the horse.

“My two new Thoroughbreds are missing.”

She turned, the currycomb suspended in her small hand. “And you think we took them?” she asked incredulously. “You honestly think we'd steal from you, even if we were starving?”