Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel (25 page)

CHAPTER 38

Jack threw his hat against the wall. “
What a lot of ROT.
I still don’t believe this. We’re going to waltz right over to the governor’s mansion, make a lot of small talk, maybe kiss his miserable bum and tell him how good it felt, and for what? So Lydia can brag about the wonderful party she attended while vacationing in Austin? For pity’s sake, Mobley, this man has been trying to kill us. He’s responsible for the deaths of a lot of people. Have you forgotten?”

Mobley jumped up from his chair and stared back, anger flashing in his eyes. “No, I haven’t forgotten. But I also haven’t forgotten we have no direct evidence linking him to these things. We have hearsay and that’s all. Not just hearsay, hearsay three, no,
five
times removed from the source. Davis supposedly gives orders to Yancy Potts. Yancy Potts tells Ferdie Lance. Ferdie Lance tells his girlfriend, and in a moment of wild passion, his girlfriend tells Edson. Edson tells us.”

Mobley turned, stomped across the room. He stood staring, and then smacked his fist against the bedroom door. Edson stood and edged between his two friends. “Easy now, let’s not forget we’re friends here. We’re all on the same side. There’s no use coming to blows, and no point upsetting Lydia. She’ll hear us if we keep yelling. Now, let’s all sit back down and talk this out.”

Jack turned his back, and then felt himself relenting. He picked up his hat and hung it on the bed post. Mobley stared at him for a moment, and then sat down on the bed. Anger still twitched his face.

Jack sat down on the other side of the bed. “All right, what’s this all about? Hearsay? What is that, and why does it make what we know mean so little?”

Mobley got up and walked to the door, then turned around. “Remember when you were kids, the games you used to play? Like the game where one person would whisper something to someone else, and they in turn would whisper it to another, and so on until it came back to the source. Invariably, the original message would be distorted. If it went through enough mouths, by the time it came all the way around it would be complete and total nonsense and unrecognizable.

That’s an example of the danger of hearsay evidence. It’s just not reliable, because as it goes from mouth to mouth, it doesn’t come out the same. Now, we’re talking about evidence of conspiracy and murder, evidence that seems to point in the direction of the governor of the state, the most powerful man Texas has ever known. We might believe in our hearts he’s guilty of these things, but we can’t fool ourselves into believing we can prove it. There is just no direct link, and that’s probably the way the governor worked it all along. He’s avoided doing anything that would lead anyone outside his closest circle directly to him.”

Mobley began pacing back and forth from the veranda window back to the door, now talking softly. “On the other hand, this thing may have started with Yancy Potts, or even by Ferdie Lance, and not the governor. We just don’t know for certain.”

Mobley stopped at the dresser, picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. He took a short sip and continued. “All the while you boys have been out doing such great work, I’ve been layin’ around here trying to figure why Davis would align himself with such murderous trash as Ferdie Lance and Kinch West, if, in-fact, he did; and the only thing I can come up with is that he just can’t stand the thought of having to give the state back to the enemies he’s faced since well before the war. He’s about to lose everything he’s fought for over the past fifteen years, and he just can’t accept that fact.

But I have to tell you boys, when it comes to figuring the minds of lurkers and plotters, or what to do about them; I’m a fish out of water. My whole life, I’ve trusted people. If they say they’re going to do something, I expect them to do it. If someone plays me for a fool, I’m the last one to catch on. A lot of people have told me I’m terribly naïve, but there is one thing I have learned about it all. The best way to find out the truth of someone’s character is to give them your trust.

To me, that’s what it means to be civilized; you have to trust your fellow man. And, I think it works, for if people cooperate for the common good rather than acting solely in their own immediate interest, they all tend to do better in the end. I can’t prove that as a scientific fact, but I’ve seen enough of it to know there is something to it.

If the people you choose to trust turn out to be rotten, you’ll find out quicker that way than any other, and you’ll be better off for it. Yes, you’ll get snookered once in a while, but getting’ even ain’t all that hard and it can even be fun at times; but the best thing is just to accept you’ve been taken, learn from it, and move on. I know this probably sounds stupid, but to me it’s better than going through life worryin’ about everyone’s motives, constantly afraid they might stab you in the back.

Now, I’m not suggesting a man ought not do some study into the folks he does business with, especially if a lot of money is involved, but in just about every other circumstance, he ought to be willing to give a man the benefit of the doubt. In fact, that concept is fundamental to our system of justice. A man is innocent until proven guilty.

The situation we have here, with the Comanchero rifles, Ferdie Lance’s connection to them and the Reappraisal Commission, plus what you and Edson have discovered, is reasonable grounds to
suspect
the governor of complicity in what’s been happening. I haven’t told the president about the hearsay, because I don’t want to prejudice his decision with unreliable evidence. But I have told him of my suspicions, in my report; but I know—and so does he—it’s not enough. Grant may base his decision as to whether to set aside the election on these suspicions, if he hasn’t already done so, but that’s all we can expect.”

Jack stood up, shook his head and walked to the dresser. He poured himself a tall whiskey and turned. “I, too, would like to trust people, but I discovered early on that too many of them are willing to stab first and trust later. One of them was my own father, and after that, the priest in our parish where I sought help. Trusting people too quickly can get you killed, so I watch everyone all the time, especially if I have reason to believe they might be up to no good. And, I’ve also discovered that if you watch closely enough, they will usually give themselves away in some small detail.”

Mobley nodded. It was no secret that Jack was suspicious of just about everything. “Well, we may not have to worry too much about all this for long. The election is coming up and Davis is almost certain to lose. Then it will all be over.”

“
Over?
” Jack’s face became dark. “Maybe for you, but it won’t be for me. I saw those low-life buggers killing women and children on the train. I was there when that sniper tried to kill you in Waco. There’s enough evidence out there for me to believe the governor’s involved, whether he pulled a trigger or not, and by Jove, it’ll be over for me when I see the buzzards picking at that bloody governor’s eyes.”

Mobley let out a long breath. “Our feelings are not that different, but for now, we have to keep on digging. It’s time we met up with this skunk and his minions, to see what we can see. If he’s like some other politicians I’ve met, he’ll get his thrills glad-handin’ with his prime target. And, like you say, he may give something away in the process.

Besides, I still haven’t done what I came here to do. Meet with Chief Judge Aubrey Hooks. He may be able to help us and he may even be at the party. Nevertheless, we’re going; all of us, if for no other reason, because Lydia wants it. That’s enough for me.”

* * *

Lydia admired herself in the mirror. The new light pink evening dress with its moderately sized bustle fit perfectly. She twirled around slowly once, then faster. The dress stayed well within the bounds of decency as it flared, but the low cut neckline left little to the imagination.

Feeling suddenly wicked, she found herself thinking of ways to break through Mobley’s reticence. If he needed more incentive, she would give it to him. She might even demonstrate the new dressing gown Edson had given her, the gown she’d reluctantly accepted only because Edson had seemed so innocent while presenting it to her. A woman just did not accept such gifts from persons other than their husbands or their betrothed, especially a gift as personal as a dressing gown.

Mobley was still acting strange, but she’d decided not to worry about it. Men did strange things. He’d agreed willingly enough to escort her to the party, and seemed relieved to be getting out. His behavior had been proper, but different. He was not the man who had been so sure of himself on the train, so ready to fight, even give his life. Now he seemed stiff, unable to express himself. He was probably feeling mortal, since being shot. If so, he’d get over it. She would see to it.

Lydia took a deep breath, took one last glance over her shoulder at the mirror and walked through the door into the sitting room. Mobley stood promptly as she entered. Edson and Jack followed his lead.

Edson whistled. “
Whoooie.
Don’t she look nice, boys? Mobley, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Mobley’s ears turned bright pink. He turned and glared at Edson. “Any pickin’ going on around here is in the hands of Mrs. Sweetgrass, and I’ll thank you to mind your manners.”

Edson smiled. Jack stepped back. Lydia grinned sheepishly. She lowered her eyes. Mobley was acting like a young boy at his first dance. She was flattered and decided to play along. “Judge Mobley F. Meadows, I would be grateful if you would consent to be my escort for the evening.”

Mobley grabbed his hat and swept it around in a big circle. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”

* * *

It was eight o’clock by the time they were ready to head for the governor’s mansion. Lydia had insisted on a short supper at a small well-appointed restaurant called
Simon’s
, so the men could fortify themselves for the night ahead. Liquor would flow profusely at the party, and she knew Mobley was likely to indulge. Since their embarrassing episode in the bedroom, he seemed to be overdoing everything.

Mobley hired a small carriage to drive them to the mansion. It was the proper way to arrive at such a gathering. As they approached the grounds, Lydia could see the State of Texas had spared no expense to properly house its governor. The mansion was strategically placed on a small hill covering a full square block overlooking the capitol building now under construction. The mansion was of Greek revival style, honoring the democracy that had emanated from the early Greek civilizations. It was two stories high and fronted by six massive ionic columns. The building itself was constructed entirely of white brick and sported attractive dark green shutters on all of its windows. A wide balcony extended out over the large lower entry and porch.

The only thing detracting from the beauty of the grounds was the great many soldiers stationed as guards near the mansion itself and surrounding the entire estate. Clearly Governor Edmund J. Davis did not trust his safety to the people of Austin.

“How did you manage to obtain this invitation, Mrs. Sweetgrass?” Jack asked politely. “Do you know the governor?”

“No. One of the friends I came here to visit found out I knew Judge Meadows. She asked me to invite him. They know the governor well and found out he was anxious to meet with you all.”

“Is that so,” Mobley said. “I don’t think you ever told us who your friends are. Should we know them?”

“No, I don’t think so. I went to school for awhile in Fredericksburg, years ago. An acquaintance of mine there, Dixie Lee Van Atta, is now married to Yancy Potts, the Governor’s chief of staff. Dixie Lee found out I was helping with your treatment and Yancy told her the Governor had been hoping to meet you all as soon as Mobley got well. That’s when she asked us—
what’s the matter with you boys?”

Jack had snapped his head around to look at Edson, who looked stricken. Jack was the first to recover his wits. “Uh,—nothing really, Lydia. We’ve heard a few things about Yancy Potts, which do not bear repeating. Are you sure this invitation included Edson and me?”

“Well, I just assumed—you are his marshals, after all. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Mobley said. “Don’t you be trying to wiggle out of this, Jack.”

Lydia sensed a dramatic increase of tension in the coach, but had no idea of its source. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you boys had better behave yourselves. I’ve never met a real governor and I’m sure there will be other important people on hand. Don’t you be getting frisky. The soldiers wouldn’t like that very much.”

Mobley examined the tough looking black soldiers spaced every thirty feet about the grounds. “I think you’re right. They’re not about to let a bunch of prairie crazies like us break up their little party. So let’s try to act civilized, boys.
Just this once.”

Edson’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean,
just this once?
We’ve been behavin’ just fine. It’s you that’s been off your feed. Ain’t that right, Jack?”

Jack looked at Mobley. He looked grim. “Well, I think maybe we should all stop being so serious. This is supposed to be a party. Even if that skunk Davis is putting it on, I guess we should try to have a good time.”

Lydia looked at Jack. “Skunk? Why would you call him a skunk? You don’t even know him?”

“Well, I—.”

“She’s right,” Mobley interrupted. “We don’t really know him. It’s time we remedied that situation.”