The calamity Janes (17 page)

It was late afternoon, well before the usual dinner hour, when they arrived at Tony’s. The restaurant was all but deserted, but Gina was waiting for them. Ford had called to give her a heads-up when they left the ranch. She was proving to be a surprisingly eager ally.

“The pizza just went in the oven,” she announced. “Peggy’s off till five, so I’ll be your waitress, too.”

“You most certainly will not,” Emma scolded. “You’ll sit and join us.” She shot a triumphant look at Ford, very pleased with her own sneakiness.

“How’s the pizza going to get from the kitchen to the table?” Gina asked.

“Since this little outing was his idea, Ford will handle it,” Emma said.

“Of course I will,” he said, regarding Emma with amusement. “I’m always eager to impress the most beautiful women in town with my good manners.”

Gina chuckled. “You’re good,” she said.

“I know. Now, sit, ladies. I will be back with your drinks in just a minute. You don’t mind, do you, Gina?”

“Heavens, no. I’m always grateful to have a few minutes off my feet. I’ll take a glass of wine.”

“Me, too,” Emma said.

He regarded her with surprise. “Really? I thought you’d want to have all your wits about you.”

“No need,” she said airily. “I have Gina to protect me.”

“At least you’re being honest about it,” he said, then smiled at Caitlyn. “What about you, darlin’? A soda?”

She nodded eagerly. “A really, really big one.”

“A small one,” Emma corrected. “You can have more, after you finish that.”

Ford returned to the table with the drinks and the steaming hot pizza. He left it to Gina to keep the conversation light, while he sat back happily and watched Emma visibly unwind. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d almost believe she was as happy to be there with him as she was to be with her old friend.

As soon as they’d finished eating, Gina grinned at Caitlyn. “I have a sudden yen to go to the toy store before it closes. Want to come with me?”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“You bet. We can see if Barbie has anything new. I think your mom and Ford have things to talk about, anyway.”

“We do not,” Emma said, clearly flustered. “I’ll come with you.”

Ford reached over and put his hand atop hers. She jolted visibly, then met his gaze and sighed. “Go ahead, Caitlyn. But don’t try to talk Gina into buying out the store.”

“Little chance of that,” Gina said with a rueful expression. “One toy’s my limit.”

When they were gone, Ford said quietly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not running away.”

She scowled. “I’m getting sick and tired of people accusing me of running away from things.”

“Then stop doing it,” he suggested mildly.

“Oh, go suck an egg.”

“Have you ever noticed that whenever the truth hits
a little too close to home, you resort to that particular phrase?” he asked.

“I do not.”

He chuckled at her fierce expression. “I work with words. I pay attention to how others use them. Believe me, you use that phrase whenever you’re rattled. Shall I ask Gina? I’m sure she could confirm it.”

“Maybe you should spend more time worrying about why I use it so often with you,” she grumbled. “Could it be because you annoy me?”

“Could be,” he agreed cheerfully.

“That is not a good thing,” she pointed out.

“Sure it is. You wouldn’t be annoyed if you didn’t care about me. You’d just dismiss whatever I said or ignore it.”

“Now there’s a good idea,” she said a little too eagerly, and stood up. “I think I’ll catch up with Gina and Caitlyn.”

He saw no need to try to block her. Instead, he merely noted, “You’re wobbling.”

“I am not,” she said, though she sat down heavily.

“You really ought to lay off the wine.”

She held her head. “I know,” she said. “Why did you let me drink that?”

“Let you? Could I have stopped you?”

“No,” she conceded. “But you wanted me tipsy, didn’t you?”

“It did occur to me that you might be slightly more amenable if your head wasn’t absolutely clear.”

“Amenable to what?” she asked suspiciously.

“Going out dancing with me after we take Caitlin back to the ranch.”

“No way.”

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Forget it.”

He sighed. “Maybe I should have recommended a second glass of wine. Oh, well, as long as I at least have you with me now, let’s talk about our relationship.”

“We don’t have one,” she said flatly.

“Sure we do. It might be on shaky ground right now, but we definitely have a relationship. I’m willing to work to make it a better one. How about you?”

“No.”

“I thought you were more broad-minded than that.”

“Well, I’m not. And while we’re on the subject of things that annoy me, you are not to call my daughter anymore. She obviously looks forward to talking to you.”

“And that’s bad because?”

“Because she shouldn’t start to count on you. Eventually you’ll move on to some other woman, and you’ll lose interest in trying to get to me through Caitlyn.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. I talk to her because she’s a bright little girl and I enjoy talking to her. The fact that she’s your daughter is just a bonus.”

“Sure, every thirty-year-old single man wants to spend his spare time chatting with a six-year-old.”

“I can’t speak for all single men, but I happen to like kids. They’re not as jaded as some adults I could mention.”

She frowned at him, then struggled to her feet once more. “I need to go over to the jail to talk to Sue Ellen.”

“Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Given your shaky condition, Ryan’s going to have some questions.”

“And I’ll see to it that the answers don’t reflect well on you.”

“He won’t believe you. He likes me.”

“But he’s liked me longer.”

Ford couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “If I hadn’t heard you argue before a jury myself, I would never have believed all the hype about your debating skills.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’ve heard similar exchanges on a playground.”

“Oh, go—”

“I know, suck an egg,” he said, laughing.

“I could start to hate you,” she muttered.

“Really? That’s the most promising thing you’ve said today.”

She looked completely bewildered. “Why?”

“Hate, love, two sides of the same coin,” he explained. “I think we’re making progress.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you over to the jail.”

“Why?”

“So I can bail you out if Ryan gets any ideas about arresting you for public drunkenness.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Could have fooled me.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. She stood up with careful grace, gave him a haughty look, then strolled to the door. Ford took his time fol
lowing. There was no point in pushing his luck. He was pretty sure he’d riled her sufficiently for one day.

Of course, he intended to keep right on doing it until she realized that she could do her worst and he wasn’t going to go away. It might be a shaky first step, but it was nonetheless a first step toward building the trust she believed was so impossible between the two of them. One of these days she was going to have to concede that she could be or do whatever she pleased and his feelings wouldn’t change. Call it a relationship or whatever made her comfortable, he was in this for the long haul.

E
mma’s visit with Sue Ellen hadn’t gone any better than her meal with Ford. Sue Ellen was growing increasingly depressed. Not only didn’t she believe Emma could win her case, she clearly didn’t care one way or the other about it. She believed she deserved to spend the rest of her life in jail. Emma left her cell feeling more discouraged about a case and a client than she’d ever felt before. She felt doubly awful because Sue Ellen was a friend, as well as a client.

“See what I mean?” Ryan asked when Emma went into his office after the visit. “She’s scaring me.”

“I’ll get the psychologist back in to see her,” Emma said, relieved that Ford hadn’t stuck around during the visit. She’d had about as much of his disconcerting company as she could handle for one day.

“I thought of that,” Ryan said. “She turned me down flat. She said she didn’t like the woman.”

“Then we’ll find another one.”

He shook his head, looking almost as miserable and discouraged as Sue Ellen had. “I don’t think that’s the answer. I’m guessing she’ll find fault with a new one, too. In fact, I’m certain she’ll disapprove of anyone who thinks she deserves another chance at life. She’s as much as told me I’m crazy to give a damn what happens to her. The last few times I’ve tried to talk to her, she’s just curled up on the cot and ignored me. She won’t even look me in the eye anymore.”

“Has she been this way ever since I left town?” Emma asked.

His expression turned thoughtful. “No, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it started last week. Up until then, she was sad, but not utterly despondent. In fact, she seemed more hopeful than she had in years. I spent a couple of evenings in her cell playing cards with her and she even laughed a few times.”

“Any idea what triggered the change? Did something happen? Did she have a visitor?”

“People have been coming and going ever since she was arrested. As far as I know, all of them have been well-wishers who wanted her to know they were standing behind her,” Ryan said, then hesitated. “Let me check the sign-in sheet. Maybe it will give us a clue.”

He brought the book in from the front desk, flipped back two weeks and began to run his finger down the column of signatures. “Sweet heaven,” he murmured after a minute, looking stricken. “Here, take a look.”

Emma went to peer over his shoulder. There, halfway down the page, was the signature of Kate Carter. “You let Donny’s mother in to see her?” she asked incredulously.

“Not me. Look at the time. It happened on the night
shift. I had a town council meeting that night—I wasn’t around. What the hell was Frankie thinking?”

“Don’t blame him entirely,” Emma said, knowing the procedures for visits. “Apparently Sue Ellen agreed to the visit.”

“True, but why would she do that?” Ryan asked. “She had to know that Kate wouldn’t have anything good to say to her.”

“Maybe she was hoping for forgiveness, or at least understanding,” Emma suggested.

“From Kate?” Ryan said incredulously. “She spent her entire life being beaten by her father and then her husband. She was bound to think that’s just the way marriage works, that Sue Ellen should have sucked it up and taken it.” He muttered a curse. “I’d heard Kate was saying a lot of stuff around town. I should have warned Frankie to keep her out, no matter what Sue Ellen said.”

“What stuff?” Emma asked worriedly. The last thing she needed was to have Donny’s mother poisoning the minds of potential jurors. Public sentiment had been firmly on Sue Ellen’s side up until now. She didn’t need a shift just as the trial date neared.

“Just what you’d expect, that Sue Ellen murdered her precious son, that she was going to have to pay for it. There was a lot of hellfire and damnation thrown in for good measure.”

“If she said the same thing to Sue Ellen, it’s little wonder she’s so depressed,” Emma said. “I’m getting that psychologist in here whether she likes it or not.”

She reached for the phone, but Ryan stilled her hand. “Call a minister, instead.”

Emma considered the suggestion, then nodded.
“Good idea. Reverend Foster is kind and compassionate.”

“More important, so is the God he believes in,” Ryan said quietly. He fixed his gaze on Emma. “What if this doesn’t work? It won’t be good for her to go into court acting guilty, will it?”

“Don’t even think about that,” Emma scolded. “This is going to work. It has to.”

Ford was sitting in his office, savoring his progress with Emma earlier that evening, when a woman came staggering in, her face flushed, her pupils dilated. If she wasn’t drunk, she was well on her way.

“You the editor of the paper?” she demanded.

He lowered the front legs of his chair carefully to the floor. “I am. Who are you?”

“Kate Carter. It’s my son who was killed by that she-devil over at the jail.”

His stomach rolled over. “I see.”

“I want you to print a story about what a fine man my son was. Anybody will tell you that,” she said, weaving on her feet. “Donny Carter was a fine man.”

“As his mother, I’m sure you feel that way,” he said cautiously. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me about him.”

Kate Carter sank heavily onto the chair he pulled out, then glanced around. “You got anything to drink in here?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“If I talk to you, how much will you pay me?”

“I don’t pay for interviews.”

She seemed taken aback by that. “I heard them big tabloids pay millions for stories.”

“I don’t,” he said flatly. “Not even five dollars,
much less millions. But if you want to talk about your son, I’ll listen.”

“And print what I say? Word for word?”

“Anything I print will be accurate,” he assured her. “But it will be balanced.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means other people might express other opinions in the same article.”

She considered that for a long time, then eventually nodded. “Get out your pen,” she ordered.

“I’d rather use a tape recorder, so there won’t be any question of accuracy later.”

“Whatever,” she said, then leaned forward to talk directly into the microphone as if she didn’t trust it to pick up her words.

Ford began his questioning carefully. It was obvious that Kate Carter had an agenda—getting her former daughter-in-law convicted. It was going to be tricky getting her to present any sort of unbiased view about what had happened in her son’s household to bring about the shooting. So far, though, this was the best chance he’d had to get an inside view of that marriage, even if it was bound to be shaded in Donny’s favor.

“Did you spend a lot of time with your son and his wife?” he asked.

“I had my own husband at home to tend to,” Kate Carter said with a self-righteous expression. “I couldn’t be gallivanting off to visit them every time I turned around, but I was there often enough to know what was what.”

“When you were there, did you ever hear Donny and Sue Ellen argue?”

“Never,” she declared. “He was a sweet boy. He
doted on her. Had ever since high school. He never said a cross word to her.”

“That’s not what the neighbors have said,” Ford pointed out. “They said there were loud arguments almost every night.”

“They were lying,” she said flatly.

“Why would they do that?”

“Who knows why people do what they do?”

“What about your own marriage, Mrs. Carter? Did you and your husband get along?”

She seemed taken aback by the question. “My husband’s been dead for six months now, God rest his soul. Besides, what does that have to do with anything?”

“I just wondered what sort of example might have been set for Donny?”

“My husband had a temper, if that’s what you mean. Some men do. It’s natural.”

“He ever hit you?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Not unless I deserved it.”

Ford resisted the temptation to tell her that no husband had a right to hit his wife, nor did the wife ever deserve it. “So, Donny grew up thinking this was acceptable? You never told him it wasn’t?”

She frowned at the question. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“Trick you how?”

“Make me say my husband and I set a bad example for our boy.”

“Is that possible?”

“No, it’s not possible. Donny was a good husband. A good provider. Sue Ellen should have been grateful.”

“And if he hit her occasionally, that was just part of the package?” Ford suggested dryly.

“Exactly,” she said, then caught herself. “He never hit her. If you write that I said that, I’ll call you a liar.”

“Your words are on the tape.”

She grabbed the recorder and hurled it across the room. The tape sprang free and unraveled as it fell to the floor. “You find those words on there now.”

“I will,” he said quietly. It would be easier than she imagined to recover the tape. “I believe the interview is over, Mrs. Carter. If I’m going to use you as a source, I have to know you’re being honest with me.”

To his dismay, tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t you make my boy look bad,” she whispered. “He was a good son.”

Ford took pity on her. Clearly she believed that. And maybe he had been. That didn’t mean he’d been a good husband.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.

“Nobody understands that it
was
a loss,” she whispered. “For me, it was a loss. When his father came after me, that boy tried to protect me, even when he was an itty-bitty little thing. More than once he was the one who wound up taking a beating. Can’t you see, the least I can do is protect his memory.”

“I’m sorry,” Ford said again.

After she’d gone, he sighed. Kate Carter wasn’t isolating her remarks to him. He knew better than that. She was going to tell anyone who’d listen exactly what she’d told him. She was going to try to convince people that Donny deserved their pity, maybe even their respect. It might play well before a jury, too.

Emma needed to know about this. She also needed to know that some of those words were going to wind
up in print, which made it more critical than ever that she let her client talk to the media.

He envisioned her reaction to that, then heaved another sigh. The dinner she’d finally agreed to have with him tomorrow night was no doubt going to leave them both with indigestion.

Emma glared at Ford. “You interviewed Kate Carter?” she asked, her voice climbing until it carried throughout Stella’s. Silence fell from one end of the diner to the other as everyone turned to hang on every word of their exchange.

“She came to me,” he responded quietly. “I thought you should know.”

“Are you going to print what she said?”

“Some of it.”

“Well, if that isn’t the most irresponsible, one-sided excuse for journalism I’ve ever heard,” Emma said.

“It doesn’t have to be one-sided,” he reminded her. “Let me talk to Sue Ellen.”

She saw what he was trying to do. Once more he was trying to manipulate her. “I’ve already told you that there’s not a chance in hell I’ll let you do that,” Emma said. Especially now. With Sue Ellen’s state of mind so unpredictable, she couldn’t allow it. Sue Ellen was entirely likely to say that she deserved to be convicted for her crime.

“Even if it means that Kate Carter’s side of the story is the only one people will read about?” He reached across the table and covered her hand. “I’ll be fair, Emma. You know that. But I can’t do it without your help. You know that, too.”

Emma sighed, not liking any of the options available to her. If she let Kate’s words go unchallenged, it
would be bad for Sue Ellen. If she allowed Sue Ellen to speak up for herself, there was a chance she would condemn her own actions out of her deep-rooted sense of guilt.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised eventually.

“You’ve been thinking about it for weeks now,” Ford pointed out. “The trial date is just around the corner. There’s not a lot of time left.”

“Dammit, don’t pressure me. I hate being pressured.”

Ford held up his hands. “Fine. You think it over and let me know what you decide. I’m running my story in next week’s paper, with or without Sue Ellen’s side of things.”

Emma felt as if the walls of the diner were closing in on her. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“We haven’t even ordered dinner yet.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay, then, what would you rather do?” he asked, tossing a couple of bills on the table to pay for their iced tea.

“You stay. I’ll go for a walk.”

“I’m coming with you.” He stood up and followed her outside.

Once they were on the sidewalk, Emma leaned against the building and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I caused a scene in there.”

“I don’t give a damn about that,” he said. He touched her cheek, then gently brushed a stray curl away from her face. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

“Of course.”

“Off the record?”

He smiled. “We’re on a date, darlin’. Everything that happens tonight is off the record.”

She nodded, and because she was feeling so completely lost and alone, she decided to trust him. “I’m scared.”

“Of?”

“Losing this case. I don’t think I’ve ever had one with the stakes so high. Oh, I’ve had cases with more money on the line, but never one where my client could spend the rest of her life in jail if I mess up.”

“You’re a good lawyer. You’re not going to mess up.”

“What if I’m wrong about how strong Sue Ellen’s case is? Or how well she’s likely to perform on the witness stand? What if she breaks under the pressure? What if I should have told her to accept a plea bargain?”

“Do you believe that she would have been better off if she had?”

“No,” she said honestly. “She doesn’t deserve to spend one single minute in prison for this.”

“Then you’re giving her the best legal advice you can, right? No client can expect more.” His gaze met hers. “Why the doubts, Emma?”

She sighed heavily. “A whole lot of things, I suppose. Sue Ellen’s discouraged. Kate got in there the other night and began badgering her about being guilty, so now she doesn’t even want to fight. Ryan’s scared for her. Then you tell me that Kate’s gotten your ear and you intend to print what she said.”