Jackie said she would, then listened while Gail called Ruby Smith on her cell phone and apologized. Ruby must have told her not to worry about it. Gail said she'd be there for breakfast instead, then told her she loved her and disconnected. "The Lord is watching over me. I wish I could believe that." She put her phone away.
"Gail, why don't you come to my place? You could relax awhile. It's quiet there and a lot closer."
"I don't think I could take running into Garlan."
"He usually doesn't get home till seven or eight. I'll fix us a pitcher of margaritas."
"Well, in that case. Thanks." Gail squeezed her arm. Jackie noticed how cold her fingers were.
Jackie wondered why Whit McGrath hadn't done what they wanted. He could have lifted the phone and called the governor. He could have asked Ward for a stay of a few months, that's all Gail and Anthony wanted, a little time to build the case against Rusty. Maybe Whit was more involved than they thought. Or afraid of Rusty turning on him, pointing the finger. Afraid of Rusty? Why? Whit's money could hire lawyers and PR people to build a wall around him. Whit couldn't be touched.
Why had he thrown Gail and Anthony out of his house? Jackie wondered if Whit knew something they didn't. That Rusty wasn't the one.
"Gail, something's been bothering me. You remember those two baby bottles in the crib?"
Slowly Gail's eyes came open, but only halfway. "Yes."
"Why were they there? Rusty wouldn't care if the baby starved."
"Amber put them there so she could sleep."
"Yeah, but she was up at ten o'clock, remember? Gary called her. She'd have checked on the baby, wouldn't she? Why did the police find two bottles? One empty, one half full?"
Gail's eyes turned to her. "Anthony says you asked him the same thing. You said Lacey Mayfield spent her lunch hour killing her sister. She reset the clock and made it look like somebody broke in. Jackie, do we
need
another theory of who did it?"
Slowing at a traffic light, Jackie said, "If you look at the evidence against Rusty, it's more guesses than fact. A fisherman saw a truck" with fender damage in the vicinity. You want to know how many pickup trucks in Martin County have fender damage?"
They were coming into Stuart, working their way across U.S. 1.
"What about this," Jackie said. "On a street like White Heron Way, people notice anyone who doesn't belong, like a man with a long red ponytail. Who
wouldn't
they notice, particularly? A woman."
"Stop it, Jackie. He did it. You know he did it."
"I
think
he did it. Ron Kemp thought that Kenny Clark did it."
"Well, he was
wrong"
Gail shifted restlessly in her seat. "Lacey Mayfield as a cold-blooded killer, hacking away with a knife. I can't see it. What motive could she have?"
"Jealousy. She was hot for Gary." When Gail rolled her eyes, Jackie laughed. "Hey, I don't know. Last week I had to pull two sisters off each other in a domestic because one borrowed a dress without asking."
"I do feel a little sorry for Lacey," Gail said. "If Kenny dies her life will be over. She'll have no one to hate anymore."
"Break my heart," said Jackie.
The shady street curved along the river, and soon the house came into view, the wide porch and oak trees in the yard. A small red pickup truck was just pulling into the driveway. "Hey, it's Diddy."
Gail opened her eyes. Diddy stood by his truck, waiting for Jackie to park. He was wearing an old ball cap, and his jeans were covered in dirt. He lifted a hand in greeting. Gail said, "He is the sweetest thing. Do you think he'd mind if I gave him a hug?"
"He'd mind if you didn't."
She got out and went around. "Hi, Diddy, remember me? I'm Gail."
After a couple of seconds his tangled white eyebrows shot up. "Gail! Hot dog. You're a picture. Where you been?" When she hugged him, the top of his head came just to her shoulder. "Last time you was here, Karen was in didies. How's Irene?"
It amazed Jackie what he could remember on a good day. She picked a piece of straw off Diddy's plaid shirt. "What have you been into?"
"I had to go to the ranch. Whit McGrath is getting himself a new horse this week, a filly, all the way from Kentucky. I helped the boys clean out a stall. I told Whit I wouldn't charge him nothing to keep her, except for feed. It gives the place some class." He laughed.
Jackie smiled at him. "Such a deal."
"You girls come on in. We'll rustle up some supper."
The apology was forming on Gail's lips, but Jackie spoke first. "Well, Diddy, we can't right now. We've got some stuff to talk over, but we'll be down in a while. Go ahead and get cleaned up, okay?"
"Ten-four." He turned back around and winked at Gail. "See you later."
"Bye."
They watched him go. When the screen door had banged shut, Gail leaned heavily against the side of Jackie's truck.
"Margarita time," said Jackie.
But Gail's blue eyes were unfocused, staring at the trees. "What you said about Lacey Mayfield. It bothers me. Before Anthony risks going onto McGrath's property, I want to be sure we're right. I've got to talk to Gary Dodson about Lacey. Do you want to come with me?"
Jackie looked toward the house. "I better not." She reached into her uniform pants. "Here. Take my car."
She stood out of the way while Gail opened the door and got in.
"Gail? Do me a favor. When I talked to Gary Dodson at the courthouse, he said my mother went to him to find out about the Mendozas, and she was distressed. He used that word. Distressed. He said she died a few days later. I was wondering how she was. Her state of mind, you know?"
"I understand," Gail said.
"What did she say? Did she mention anything of a personal nature? Did she mention me or Alex? Would you ask him about that?"
Gail could have used her cell phone to make sure Gary Dodson was in, but she decided not to. She didn't want to give him any advance warning. Jackie had said to look for a dark green Oldsmobile sedan about ten years old, and Gail saw the back end of it as she came around the corner. Dodson lived over his law office, converted from an old house. She recalled the shabby furniture, the worn carpet, and the curtains pulled across the windows, keeping out the light. Time had stopped for him twelve years ago. Both he and Lacey were imprisoned in the past, the sister trapped inside her anger, Gary in this tomb. Kenny's death, if it came, would not release either of them.
She parked across the street and looked around for a black pickup truck before taking the keys out of the ignition. What she noticed was Dodson's secretary turning into the driveway, struggling to get her bulk out from under the steering wheel, then walking up the steps. She carried a folder with papers inside; perhaps she had been on some errand.
Gail quickly got out of the Isuzu and ran up behind her, practically forcing her way through the door the moment the woman pushed it open.
"Hello again. I need to see Mr. Dodson. Would you please tell him Gail Connor is here?"
The woman frowned at her. "He's not in."
"Oh, but I'm sure I saw him." Gail moved toward the hallway. "I'll just announce myself. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
"Hey, wait a minute!"
Quick footsteps carried her to the door at the end. She knocked, then pushed it open. "Mr. Dodson?"
He was working on some papers at his desk, exactly as she had left him more than two weeks ago. This could have been the same somber suit, the same starched white shirt with fraying cuffs. He stood up and waved his secretary quiet.
"Never mind, Nelda. It's all right." He took off a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. "What do you want, Ms. Connor?"
"I'd like to ask a question. I won't take more than a minute. Please."
"All right." With a sigh Dodson laid down his glasses, squaring up the frames with the edge of his file. "Nelda, wait. Did you get the agreements signed? Leave them on your desk, and I'll look at them later. Don't forget to lock up when you leave."
"Good night, Mr. Dodson." The woman went out, closing the door behind her.
A sliver of afternoon light came through the curtains, and a brass-shaded banker's lamp illuminated Dodson's desk. As before, the corners were taken up with stacks of old files with peeling labels, and Gail wondered if he kept them there to create the illusion that work was actually done here. She doubted he had any cases other than the pittance McGrath tossed his way.
"Have a seat, Ms. Connor."
She took one of the walnut jury-box chairs across from him and set her purse on the other. "Thank you." Amber and the baby smiled back at her from the framed portrait on the credenza, and the same lite-FM music was playing on his radio. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but I need your help. Kenny Ray Clark lost his appeal in the Florida Supreme Court, and the execution is scheduled for Wednesday. That's two days from now."
"I'm sorry the decision wasn't in your favor." The springs in Dodson's chair squeaked in a steady rhythm as he rocked in it. His head went in and out of the lamplight. "I was at the hearing last week. Had I been the judge, I would have ruled the other way. You've come up with an interesting theory of who killed my wife, but regretfully, I have no influence over Whit McGrath. As I explained to your cousin, Miss Bryce, I can't help you."
"Yes, she told me about your conversation. What I wanted to ask you was, how well did your wife get along with her sister?"
"Strange question." He lifted his hands briefly from the chair. "Fine."
"Any arguments in the weeks leading up to her death? Any rivalry between them?"
"No. They weren't best friends, but they got along all right." A smile creased his cheek. "My goodness. Do you suspect Lacey too?"
"I wanted to rule her out." A cool breeze came from the vents, and Gail crossed her arms for warmth. "As long as I'm here, Mr. Dodson, I have a question about my aunt, Louise Bryce. Jackie said you'd met her." Gail hesitated, then dove into the subject. "Louise died in a single-car crash in Palm Beach County in 1988. Jackie was only twelve at the time. She was told that the crash was an accident, and that her mother had been drinking. I think she has always feared it was something else. That her mother sped into that turn not wanting to come out of it alive."
The soft squeaking of springs continued. The lamplight carved shadows into Dodson's gaunt cheeks.
"You told Jackie that her mother was distressed when she came to see you, and that she died a few days later. You seemed to be saying that Louise was distressed about having notarized the Mendoza deed for Whit McGrath. What did you mean, exactly? Did she seem to be in a mental depression?"
"No, I wouldn't say so. By distressed, I meant... agitated. Excited."
"Excited?"
"Worried. Concerned. I thought I'd made it sufficiently clear to your cousin."
"What was Louise worried about?"
"The deed. She wanted assurancesâand I gave themâthat the deed had been properly signed. That the people who signed it had not been forced to do so."
"Why didn't she ask Whit McGrath?"
"Oh, she did, but they weren't communicating very well at the time. They had split up. I remember she was angry at McGrath, but not depressed, not to the extent of ending her own life. Please tell your cousin, and again convey my condolences."
Angry. Gail let the word float through her head for a moment. She shivered. Her short-sleeved linen dress did little to ward off the frigid air from the vents. "What did you tell Louise about the Mendozas?"
"I said they'd gone back to Guatemala. That they had signed the deed, accepted a check for the property, and there was no way to contact them."
"Had she been trying to?"
"Louise Bryce was concerned, as I said, because she had broken the law. It was a petty crime, to be sure, but a crime nonetheless. When Mr. McGrath shut her out, she came to me. What was
I
supposed to do? She started screaming at me. She demanded to have an address for the Mendozas. What a scene. But I was able to calm her down. After all, she wasn't blameless, was she?"
"You told her she could go to jail?"
"I had to tell her something. She was threatening to go to the police."
"Because she suspected the Mendozas were dead."
Dodson stopped his chair. The bones in his face seemed sharper, the skin more pallid. With a quick movement, he pushed back his frayed cuff to check his watch. "You know, Ms. Connor, I have some things to do this afternoon."
"Wait. I've just got one more question. Jackie told you why we suspect that Rusty Beck was responsible for your wife's death." When Dodson made no reply, Gail said, "We think Beck was afraid Amber would talk about the Mendozas. Beck murdered them, put them in the trunk of their car, and pushed the car into a sinkhole on Whit McGrath's property. The only leverage we have against McGrath is that he knew about it. He knew, didn't he?"
"Ms. Connor, I'd really rather not discussâ"
"A man is going to
die
if I don't get some answers. Just a yes or a no. Please."
Dodson blinked, then made a quick nod. "He knew."
"And Amber? Did she know?"
He pressed on his forehead with stiffened fingers. His cuticles were raw. "I never told her. She knew about the deed, but ... nothing else. Please leave, Ms. Connor. I can't discuss this anymore."
Gail moved forward to the edge of his desk. She spoke softly, sensing that if only she could put this the right way, he would let go. "How did you find out the Mendozas had been murdered? Did McGrath tell you?"
"He didn't have to. It was obvious."
"Why was it obvious?" Gail waited. "Mr. Dodson?"
Staring down at his desk, he leaned his forehead on an open palm, and after a few seconds, he began to speak. "When the deed wasn't delivered by a certain date, which had been promised, I became concerned. Mr. Hadley, my supervising partner, wanted an answer, and I had none. I couldn't get any information from Mr. McGrath, so ... I drove out to speak to the Mendozas. Mr. Mendoza said he'd never sell. Never. And I'd already written the title opinion! I said to him, 'I'll make sure you get double your price.' He said, 'No, we won't leave. This is our home.' "