Читать книгу Courthouse Steps - Ginger Chambers - Страница 12

WHEN ETHAN OPENED the front door of Marge’s Diner, the hum of cheerful conversation mingled with the smell of hot coffee and cooking food. By the time he made his way to the counter, all conversation had stopped. Knowing himself to be the focus of attention, he hitched a seat on one of the red-topped stools, helped himself to a menu propped next to the salt and pepper shakers and frowned down at his choices for a late lunch. It was always like this when he came to a new town on a prosecution. He was the outsider, the stranger. As with a gunslinging lawman of old, people were both in awe of him and afraid. But Ethan was accustomed to being the outsider. It didn’t bother him. Slowly conversation resumed, though at a much more subdued level.

Minutes later, the door opened again and Carlos entered the establishment. When he spotted Ethan, he came to his side and took a seat. Ethan handed him a menu.

“What’ve you come up with?” Ethan asked.

“Typical stuff. The lady at the post office seems to be the gossip maven. And there is a kid—a Lars Travis—about fifteen, who delivers bits and pieces of rumors along with the local newspaper. I talked with the lady, but the kid is in school.”

“What did the lady say?”

Carlos dropped the menu and fished in his pocket for a notebook. Referring to it occasionally, he said, “A number of people in town think Judson Ingalls did the dirty deed. Most of the same number think Margaret deserved it. She did not fit in here—she was a big-city girl from Chicago who scandalized everyone with her behavior. Judson was thought to be getting the short end of the stick. He was a local war hero, not that anyone remembers much about what he did in the war. After Margaret ‘left,’ Judson raised his daughter, Alyssa, on his own. Ingalls F and M, the family business, has been an important part of the community almost since its inception. It employs a substantial number of the people in and around Tyler. Mr. Ingalls is very active in community affairs. He supports the local high school sports teams, especially the Titans, the football team. His daughter is on the town council and every other committee Annabelle Scanlon—she is the postmistress—can think of.” Carlos paused. “I sense resentment there. She is probably jealous. The Ingallses have always had most of the money in town and most of the class.”

He went back to his notes. “Alyssa Ingalls married one Ronald William Baron—who, incidentally, killed himself about ten years ago when his grain elevator business collapsed financially. The Barons had three children—Jeff, a doctor at the hospital here, Amanda and Liza, who seems to have taken after Grandmother Margaret and was quite a hell-raiser before she married. She shows up in a couple of our reports. She found the rug and turned over the bullet found in Margaret’s room at the lodge.”

Ethan nodded. He looked for the waitress. She was leaning against the far end of the counter, talking with a policeman. Ethan sensed that they were discussing him and Carlos, and he had the hunch confirmed when the policeman’s hard gaze met his. The waitress glanced at him, too, but she made no move to come take their order. Once again she started to talk with the policeman.

Carlos replaced the notebook in his pocket. “Everyone I talked to seems to think highly of Amanda Baron. She is liked, she is respected. I heard no word against her, not even from the postmistress.”

“We’d like some coffee down here, please,” Ethan called, his strong voice cutting into the waitress’s tête-à-tête.

Carlos smiled, amused by Ethan’s direct attack.

The policeman said something, causing the waitress to push away from the counter and come toward them. On the way she nonchalantly collected a full coffee beaker and two cups. After the cups were filled, she started to walk away again, but Ethan stopped her. “We’d also like to order.”

“Cook’s just stepped out,” the woman said, her middle-aged face set uncompromisingly.

Ethan glanced behind the serving counter into the kitchen. “Who’s that in the hat?” he asked.

A flush stole into the woman’s cheeks. By that time the policeman, dressed in the dark uniform of the Sugar Creek Sheriff’s Department, had ambled over. He was a compactly built six-footer with squared features and a no-nonsense edge that was tempered by a friendly smile.

“Serve the men, Marge,” he advised. “Two hamburgers don’t commit you to one side or the other. Judson will understand.”

Color still brightened the woman’s cheeks. “I’m loyal to my customers and my friends, Brick. Judson comes in here every day. And for these men to just barge in and act as if—”

“They’re just doing their job,” the policeman said. “You serve Karen and me when we come in...and we’re the ones who arrested him.”

“That’s different,” Marge claimed.

“No, it’s not.”

Marge looked at the policeman for a long moment, then at Ethan and Carlos. “All right,” she conceded grudgingly, “what do you want?”

Ethan glanced at Carlos, who gave a short nod. “Two burgers. One no onion, one no tomato.”

Marge moved away, leaving the policeman to introduce himself. “Lieutenant Brick Bauer of the Tyler substation,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard you’ve been asking around town today.”

“News travels fast,” Ethan remarked.

“In most small towns it does, but especially in Tyler.” Brick glanced at the people sitting in booths and clinging to stools farther along the counter. He nodded whenever he caught an inquisitive eye. “You’re quite an object of speculation, Mr. Trask.”

“As you said, I’m just doing my job.” Ethan introduced Carlos, who, he saw, did a quick estimation of the policeman.

Brick Bauer sighed. “So are we all, so are we all...but it’s not a nice business sometimes.” He straightened, resting an arm on top of his holster flap as so many of his fellow officers did. “I expect you’ll be wanting to talk with me later?”

Ethan nodded. “We’ll call before we come.”

“Good. Then I’ll arrange to be in.”

With another nod, he ambled off. In no hurry, he paused to speak to people at two tables on the way out the door.

Ethan glanced at Carlos. “What do you think?” he asked.

“A fair man who can put loyalties aside when it comes to telling the truth. He will be a good witness.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The two burgers were delivered with a clank of glass plate against hard counter. Marge didn’t wait around to ask if they needed anything else.

Ethan’s smile was wintry as he surveyed their meal. “Do you think we should really eat these?”

“We have not been poisoned yet,” Carlos said.

“There’s always a first time,” Ethan murmured, then he bit into the piping-hot burger and instantly decided it was the best he had had in years.

* * *

AMANDA TRIED to go back to the preparation of her brief, but she just couldn’t make herself concentrate. Who was this Roddy and why had her grandfather behaved so strangely at the mention of his name? Had the man been intimately involved with Margaret in the weeks before her death? What did her grandfather know about him?

She got up from her desk and went into the outer office. Tessie looked up from her computer keyboard. “I’m going out for a while, Tessie,” Amanda said. “Just around the square. If anyone needs me, I’ll be back in about—” she checked her watch “—half an hour. Not more than that. I need some fresh air.”

Her secretary nodded and went back to work.

The day was unusually warm for the latter part of September. Sunlight rained through the leaves of the huge old oak trees and onto the grassy square. Even the fall flowers, nicely kept in their beds, seemed to be especially colorful this day. It was as if Nature was giving everyone a second chance at summer before the frigid winds of winter came to call.

Amanda sat down on a wooden bench in one of the sunnier sections of the park and watched as a few young children played nearby. The upcoming trial was like the worst threat of winter to her: an impending time of darkness and cold. That is, if she were allowed to assume her rightful place at her grandfather’s side.

She sighed and, made sleepy by the unusual warmth, let her eyes shut. Mere seconds passed, however, before a huge shaggy dog came lumbering across the lawn to jump on her. “Samson!” Amanda laughed, snapping to attention as the friendly white dog continued to try to lick her cheek, her chin, her nose, her mouth.

“Samson, down!” Pam Kelsey called, hurrying to contain him. She made a grab for his collar. “Sorry, Amanda,” she apologized, once she had gained control. “He’s just been groomed and thinks he’s king of the hill.”

Amanda grinned as she rubbed a fluffy head. “That’s okay. I think he’s king of the hill, too. Any dog this sweet deserves a little spoiling.”

“Actually, we had to get him groomed today because he spent all of yesterday trying to dig his way out of the backyard. I don’t understand why he’s started to do it, but he has. He’s twelve years old. He should know better!”

“Maybe he’s lonely,” Amanda suggested. “You should get him a friend. No, seriously. With both you and Patrick at school all day, and then with you coaching the football team and Patrick helping you...Samson probably feels as if he’s lacking attention.”

“What kind of friend?” Pam asked carefully.

“Another dog. Preferably a female, neutered, of course. Unless you want to have puppies.”

“Good heavens.”

Amanda laughed. “Samson has a few good years left in him. He’s probably not ready yet to hang up his spurs in that department. He could still be a father.”

“Why not get another male and not have to worry about it?”

“Because introducing a male dog at this stage might make matters worse. They might not like each other.”

Pam tilted her head, her brown eyes curious. “How do you know so much about it?” she asked. Then she remembered. “Oh, that’s right. You once wanted to be a vet, didn’t you? Patrick told me.”

Amanda smiled wryly. “Right now, I wish I’d stuck with it.”

Pam’s pretty face lost its smile. “I heard that Ethan Trask and his assistant were asking questions around town today. I took off from school during my free period to collect Samson, and I ran into Annabelle outside the post office. She said a man named Carlos something-or-other had talked to her for almost an hour. So you know what that means...they now know almost everything there is to know about Tyler.”

“By the time this trial is through no one will have any secrets left.”

“Do you really think it will be that bad?”

Amanda looked at Pam and saw her genuine concern. Not for her own sake—Pam wasn’t involved. She hadn’t moved to Tyler until late last summer, around the time Margaret’s body had been found. She had no connection to the town’s past except through her marriage to Patrick Kelsey, the Kelseys having been in Tyler since its founding, just as long as the Ingallses had. Amanda shook her head. “No, I’m exaggerating. I’m feeling a little frustrated right now, so I’m acting theatrical.”

Pam reached out to clasp her arm. “If there’s any way Patrick and I can help, you just let us know. We don’t believe Judson could have done a thing like that. We may not be able to be in court with you because of our commitments at the school, but we’ll be with you in spirit. Tell Judson we support him, okay?”

“Okay,” Amanda agreed. Her spirits lifted just a little. Their family did have friends—the Kelseys, the Bauers...and there were others.

Samson woofed at Amanda, as if to say goodbye, then he jerked, ready to move away.

Laughing, Pam whipped out a leash and connected it in one smooth motion. “He got away from me earlier before I could get this on. I think he spotted you sitting here. Animals like you, don’t they?”

“Usually, yes,” Amanda admitted.

Pam’s brown eyes moved over her. “I think they trust you.”

Amanda shrugged. “They probably see a soft touch.”

“No, I think they sense something more. You’re a lot like your mother, Amanda. The same pure heart.”

Amanda wondered if Pam would still think that if she could see the photo of Ethan Trask in her office, the one with the dart sticking out of his nose.

* * *

ETHAN COUNTED OUT the correct amount tallied on the waitress’s check and added a few dollars more for a tip. Service hadn’t been exactly wonderful, but the woman had come back to refill their coffee cups. As they left the diner, he noticed that most of the same people who had been present upon his arrival remained. Their eyes followed him to the door. Once outside, he wondered whether, if either he or Carlos were to surprise them by opening the door again, they would all be talking at once about the same subject.

They walked to Ethan’s car, a sleek black luxury model that he had allowed himself. As he opened the driver’s door, he asked, “Did you find out anything about the ring?”

Carlos shook his head. “Nothing, my friend. No one knows anything about it.”

Ethan frowned as they settled into their seats. “Judson and Margaret were married in 1941. The ring found with the body is engraved 1941—at least, the segment we can read says that. It has to be his.”

“As far as anyone knows, Judson Ingalls never wore a ring.”

“Keep asking. You may turn up something with one of the older people you talk to. Someone who knew the two of them way back when.”

Ethan started the car and backed out of the parking slot onto the street.

“What about you?” Carlos asked when they pulled forward. “What did you learn?”

“That Judson Ingalls started talking seriously about selling Timberlake Lodge shortly after the body was found. And he sold it to the Addison Hotel Corporation for less than market value.”

“Was the buyer spooked because of the body?”

“Not according to the assistant manager. Addison would have gone higher, but Judson Ingalls didn’t ask it. I think he wanted the place off his conscience.”

“That would not make his troubles go away.”

“Out of sight, out of mind? Remember that painting of Margaret Ingalls in her bedroom? He didn’t ask for it, either. And years ago, after he’d ordered the room locked up, he moved to his house in town and never went back. The man’s pretty good at ignoring what’s unpleasant.”

“He cannot ignore a court date.”

“No.” Ethan smiled. “He can’t.”

Ethan looked away from the street for a second to glance at Carlos. The next thing he knew, Carlos was yelling for him to stop. Ethan’s reactions were quick. Without asking why, he jammed on the brakes and the car rocked to a halt. It was then he saw Amanda Baron. She was inches away from the front grill. She looked back at him, stunned.

Ethan expelled a long breath and made himself get out of the car. “Are you all right?” he asked, hurrying toward her.

Huge blue eyes looked up at him. “I know you want me off the case,” she whispered. “But I didn’t think you’d be willing to go this far.”

Ethan was in no mood for sarcasm, even if it sprang from shock. He answered stiffly, “I assure you, I’ve never yet had to resort to killing the competition.”

“Perhaps I should check your police record.”

“I don’t have a police record.”

Carlos, who had exited the car as well, smiled as he leaned lightly against the front fender. “It is true,” he said. “He is not a wanted man.”

Amanda sent Carlos a look that made his smile grow. Ethan saw that while fright warred with anger in her expression, humor at the situation was beginning to dawn. Her undecided gaze returned to Ethan, and once again he felt himself physically stirred. He was aware of everything about her. The way the beige slacks fitted her slender hips and legs; the way her ribbed scoop-necked top, dyed a dusky rose and worn beneath a casually loose beige jacket, settled against small, but nicely rounded breasts. The way her bright chestnut hair shone in the sun...her flawless skin, the beautiful blue of her eyes, her soft, kissable mouth. He jerked his thoughts away from such undisciplined chaos.

“You stepped out in front of me!” he accused.

“I did no such thing! Look where I am. How did I get this far across the street if I’d just stepped out?” She was standing in front of the driver’s side, not the passenger side closest to the sidewalk. “You were speeding,” she countered.

Ethan shrugged the logic away. It was important for him to keep the upper hand. He had to stay in control. “No, I wasn’t. I never speed. Not in a town.”

“Then you admit you sometimes speed on a highway.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And if you speed on a highway, it means you might drive over the limit elsewhere...like in a town!”

“Check the skid marks,” Ethan parried. “They don’t indicate high speed. No, you didn’t look. You were in the park, probably distracted—you do have certain things to be distracted about. You decided to go back to your office...” He indicated the sign on her office directly across the street. “So you started off without looking. You were probably walking rather quickly, thinking about all the things you had to do. You didn’t see the car.”

Again, a blend of emotions crossed Amanda Baron’s pretty face. For an instant she looked as if she were about to confess, but her fighting spirit returned, and she taunted, “Prove it!”

Ethan had sensed victory, but before he could return her taunt, a series of claps came from the man who had witnessed their exchange. Ethan looked around. He had forgotten that Carlos was there.

The investigator smiled broadly. He straightened away from the car even as he continued to clap his hands. He looked first at Amanda Baron and then at Ethan, his dark eyes dancing. “Bravo!” he approved. “Magnifico! A wonderful performance! But you are both forgetting. There was a witness, a highly experienced observer—me! I saw everything, and I say you owe each other an apology.” He pointed at Amanda Baron. “You stepped out.” And at Ethan. “And you were not watching where you were going. No one wins, no one loses, no one was hurt. No debate.” Carlos shook his head. “Lawyers,” he grumbled amusedly to himself. “You will argue with a tree!”

Amanda Baron stared at him for a few seconds, then she, too, started to laugh. She was beautiful when she laughed, Ethan thought. Her entire face lighted up. He continued to hold himself stiffly. A smile never cracked his lips.

“I suppose,” she said, “since we do have a highly experienced witness, I’ll have to admit to some responsibility. I was thinking of something else, and I didn’t see the car.” She looked at Ethan, waiting for him to make a similar concession.

Ethan felt Carlos’s eyes come to rest upon him, too. Finally, he allowed, “I agree. It was my fault as well.”

Carlos approved. “Ah, that is good. An understanding!”

In the silence that followed, Amanda Baron shifted slightly and glanced again at Ethan. All Ethan wanted to do was get back behind the wheel and drive away. He was uncomfortable standing in the street with her. Uncomfortable with the unexpected strength of his feelings. All he could think of was that it was a good thing he had filed a challenge against her as defense counsel. He would have hated to go to trial and try to maintain an adversarial role. It would have played havoc with his concentration.

Because he had confidence in the justness of his argument to Judge Griffen, Ethan let a tight smile slip into place even as he maintained, “But I wasn’t speeding. I hold my ground there.”

Several cars passed them and then paused, drivers and passengers curious about what had happened. Amanda Baron returned the salute of one group and called hello to another. She glanced toward her office.

Ethan took the onus onto himself. “If you’re sure you’re all right,” he said, “we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry for any fright you may have experienced.”

“So am I,” she said. Then, surprising him—actually, surprising both of them—she thrust out her hand. She looked down at it blankly, as if the appendage weren’t hers.

Ethan took it. Her hand felt warm and capable, very feminine, very soft. He held it a moment before letting go.

Amanda Baron threw Carlos a quick smile, murmured goodbye to both of them, then hurried the rest of the way across the street and disappeared inside her office.

Ethan had no idea how long he stared at the closed door, how long before Carlos called him back to awareness. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Yet from the way the investigator grinned once Ethan had resettled in the driver’s seat, it might have been hours.

“I think you have noticed her, my friend,” Carlos teased, referring to his earlier comment.

“I tried to kill her, you mean,” Ethan corrected.

“And I think she noticed you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Even, white teeth flashed. “I only say what I see. I make nothing up.”

Ethan started the car. “She hates my guts. I’m here to send her grandfather to jail.”

Carlos’s shrug was expressive, silently holding to his statement.

“Naa,” Ethan denied.

Carlos’s answer was another shrug.

Ethan laughed shortly. “I think you’d better have your eyes examined when we get back to Madison. Now, to return to business. This Joe Santori, the building contractor who found the body and the bullet—is he willing to see us tomorrow?”

“I arranged a time in the afternoon. I thought you would want me to do a little more digging around here in the morning.”

Ethan nodded. “You’re right. Besides doing a little more probing about the ring, check into Judson and Margaret’s marital troubles. They fought about her having affairs with other men, but see if there was anything else. Also, nose around about the possible police cover-up, both then and now. Let’s see where we stand in that regard. We don’t want any surprises.”

“Do you think any evidence might be tainted?”

“It’s doubtful in this case, but witnesses might be. Who are the two ex-police chiefs? Zachary Phelps and Paul Schmidt?”

Carlos nodded.

“We may need to have both testify. If we do, I want to know which way they’ll go. Also, I’d like you to do a little checking on Philip Wocheck. See what people have to say about him. You might try your postmistress again on that.”

As Carlos nodded again, he started writing reminders to himself in his notebook.

Ethan carefully checked the street for both traffic and inattentive pedestrians before he accelerated. As he did, he glanced across the wide street toward the office that had Amanda Louise Baron, Attorney-at-Law emblazoned on the door. He had known from the beginning that this was going to be a difficult case. Forty-two years had passed since the murder occurred, the accused was a well-respected, wealthy, influential man in the community and the evidence was mostly circumstantial...all hard enough strikes to overcome. But he hadn’t counted on having to deal with someone like Amanda Louise Baron, or her unwanted effect on him.

* * *

AMANDA WATCHED the car pull away. It certainly had taken them long enough! What were they doing? What were they talking about? Her? Her grandfather? The case?

She moved away from her spy’s perch in the corner of the room, letting the vertical blind swing back into place. As usual, Tessie had made the necessary adjustments to keep the afternoon sun from interfering with her computer screen.

Tessie sat at her desk, a silent witness to her employer’s antics from the moment she’d entered the door and scurried to the corner. At last the secretary’s silence came to an end. “We had a call while you were out,” she said. “Judge Griffen wants to set the disqualification hearing for tomorrow morning. You know him—he doesn’t like to let grass grow under his feet. They want a callback as soon as possible.”

Tomorrow morning! Amanda thought of her laden desk. Could she possibly be ready by tomorrow morning? She checked her watch. She had the rest of the afternoon and tonight, and if she made judicious use of every second... “Tell him I’ll be ready,” she said. “What time?”

“Eight-thirty. He has a trial scheduled at ten.”

“Right,” Amanda said. “I guess I’d better get going.” As she started into her office, she felt her secretary’s eyes follow her. Pretending to an innocence she didn’t feel, she paused to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“May I ask what that was all about just now? Or is it some kind of deep, dark secret?”

Amanda shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I just...” She stopped. Tessie would see through her in a second. “I ran into Ethan Trask,” she admitted wryly. “Literally! Well, I almost ran into him. Actually, we almost ran into each other. Neither of us was watching where we were going—him driving, me walking.”

Tessie lifted an eyebrow at her unaccustomed inarticulateness. To complete her humiliation, Amanda felt herself flush. And she was a person who never flushed.

Tessie’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard that he lives up to his reputation. Plus he’s even better-looking than his picture. Must be true,” she decided.

“It’s not that at all,” Amanda declared. “He almost ran me down in his car just now! Anyone would be upset.”

“Would anyone peek out the window to see what he did next?”

“I was merely—”

“Watching to see what he did next?”

“My behavior is strictly in the best interest of my client. Ethan Trask is the enemy. I was conducting a little surveillance, that’s all.”

“Did you learn anything?” Tessie asked dryly.

Had she learned anything? Amanda couldn’t answer truthfully. How did she explain that despite the man’s determination to prosecute her grandfather, she found him fascinating? He was so self-contained, so controlled. He barely ever smiled, and when he did, his lips made only the faintest movement, as if they were unaccustomed to the motion. His decisive intensity acted on her like a magnet, drawing her to him. When he first jumped out of the car to see if she was hurt, she had seen genuine concern in his eyes. But the hard, no-nonsense edge had soon returned. Which was the real man? she wondered. And should she care?

“He signaled properly before pulling into traffic,” she murmured in answer to her secretary’s challenge.

“That must have been a big disappointment.”

“Not really,” Amanda claimed. “Not when I’m looking for keys to his psyche.”

Tessie rolled her eyes. “That’s a bunch of baloney and you know it.”

“It never hurts to be prepared.”

Tessie snorted as she twisted back around. She hadn’t believed Amanda, hadn’t believed anything she’d said. Amanda recognized the fact and knew that she would have to live with it. Just as she knew that, whether she liked it or not, every time she went near Ethan Trask something seemed to happen to her internal balance wheel, and her equilibrium went right out the window.

So...how was she going to spend the next eight to ten hours? By preparing an argument that she hoped would allow her to continue to pit herself against him in a courtroom. Did that make sense? No. But these weren’t ordinary times. And it was her grandfather, not to mention the rest of her family, who would pay if she allowed any kind of reckless emotion to get in the way of what she had to do.

Reckless emotion! Her? Amanda almost laughed. She had always been the steadiest of the Baron crew. The middle child. The one who had never caused anyone a moment’s worry. Good, steady Amanda. Amanda, who had suffered quietly when her father had committed suicide. She still sometimes felt as if she’d never get over his death, yet she hadn’t gone off the rails like Liza and Jeff. Reckless emotion?

Amanda closed herself into the pseudowomb of her office. This was her domain. In here, she was in charge. She had hung every picture, arranged every book.

Her gaze drifted to the newspaper photograph of Ethan Trask. Since she had left the room earlier—how long ago was that, a hundred years?—the dart had fallen from his nose. Gravity had pulled it to the floor.

Gravity, magnetism...

Amanda snatched the photograph from the wall and crumpled it in her fist.