Part 15 (1/2)

His voice was still controlled, well modulated; he had turned partly away from the lieutenant, more as if by habit than anything else, but still, hidden behind his sungla.s.ses, it looked as if he was trying to avoid direct contact. What would he do if he lost control? Barbara suddenly wondered. Would he rant and rave, jump up in anger, lash out at something or someone? Or just become bitingly sarcastic? She did not want to find out with the police officers present.

Breaking in on the next question, she said, ”Lieutenant, that's the fourth time you've asked that same question. The answer doesn't change. Can you move on?”

He shrugged, but left the question unfinished and asked instead about the arrangement Alex had with his agent, another topic already covered. Alex's patience continued.

When the lieutenant was finished, he stood up and said, ”We'll get your statement typed and send it around for you to sign in an hour or so. Say at five. Will you be here at that time?”

Barbara stiffened slightly. Too soon, she thought, but she did not say a word.

Alex nodded. ”I can wait for it.”

Barbara walked out with the lieutenant and his two companions. When they were gone, she opened Sh.e.l.ley's office door and beckoned to Dr. Minick. ”Over,” she said. ”You can come out now. Alex was great.”

In the office, when she returned with Dr. Minick, Alex was slumped in his chair with his face buried in his hands.

Pretending unawareness, Barbara went to sit down on the sofa. She said, ”That's moving fast, to get the statement back for you to sign today. I think they want to toss the ball to the district attorney's office and let someone there carry it now. And I'll move for a very quick trial, if and when the time comes.”

”Why?” Will asked. ”I thought it was in our interest to delay things.”

”They don't have a case,” Barbara said. ”It's completely circ.u.mstantial, and it relies on the statement of the girl that Alex was stalking her. Strike that, and there's nothing left.” She did not look at Dr. Minick; she knew his expression would be troubled. ”Alex, where do you buy your art supplies?”

”Mail-order house.” He straightened up, put his sungla.s.ses on again. ”I do all my shopping on the Internet, or mail order.”

”Nothing special about the kinds of pencils you use?”

”No.”

”Okay. I'll want the names of the companies you deal with. You were great about where the paintings go, by the way. Will your agent reveal more than you did?”

Dr. Minick answered. ”I talked to him a few days ago. He'll take a long boat ride to nowhere before he tells them anything.”

”Well, it's almost three-thirty, and we have an hour and a half to kill.”

”Not me,” Will said. ”I've put everything on hold today. Time to check in again. Alex, will you be my guest tonight?”

”I'd like to go home,” Alex said.

”We could go out to Will's house and collect your things now,” Sh.e.l.ley said timidly.

”Just be sure to be back here before five,” Barbara said. ”You other guys are free to scatter.”

Then, alone, sitting on her sofa, she thought about the control Alex had shown, but her thoughts were confused. How long could he suppress his anger and fear? At what cost? She realized she had seen a new facet of him, one that she was not sure how to regard. She wanted him to stay cool, but it was nearly inhuman to be as cool as he was.

She decided to go home and tell Frank about her client before he read about it in the newspapers.

When she did, he stared at her in disbelief. ”Good Christ! He's either a cold-blooded murderer, or else a psychopath!”

20.

Alex and Sh.e.l.ley arrived back at the office before five; a detective brought the statement and stood gazing anywhere except at Alex as he read it. Barbara read it. Alex signed, and it was done.

”Go get some rest,” Barbara said after the detective left. ”It's been a tough day for all of us.”

Alex stood up, then hesitated. He took off his sungla.s.ses and faced her. ”I don't know how you pulled it off today, keeping me out of the police station. But whatever you did, thanks. Sh.e.l.ley told me what comes next, if they arrest me, I mean. I know I won't be able to wear a hat in court, or the sungla.s.ses, either, I guess. I just wanted to say, Don't worry about it. If they order me to jail, you know, go straight to Jail, do not pa.s.s Go... If they do, is it possible to have a cell by myself?”

”Yes,” Barbara said. ”You know I'm going to work my b.u.t.t off to keep you out of jail. Keep that in mind.”

He put his gla.s.ses back on; his mouth twisted in what she could now recognize as a smile, and he said, ”I will.”

A few minutes later, alone in the offices, she sat at her desk thinking. Frank's words had shaken her. If there were two prime suspects and he had eliminated Hilde Franz, it left Alex. Period.

If she had to use Hilde Franz to save Alex, she would do it.

There was nothing she could prove, but she could cast a net of suspicion, demonstrate that Hilde had had more motive than Alex and that she had had the opportunity. And there was Mr. Wonderful, she thought. He might have nothing to do with the case Barbara was committed to defend, but if she ever found him, she was prepared to drag him into the limelight; that was just how it worked. One way or another she was certain that she could introduce enough reasonable doubt to acquit Alex, but at what cost to how many others, some of whom might be guilty of nothing more than being human?

The girl Rachel, hardly more than a child, with a woman's out-of-control hormones, hemmed in by a strict father, rebellious. Human. Barbara would have to rip her story to shreds, destroy her credibility, possibly destroy her, plummet her into the despair that Dr. Minick feared.

Hilde Franz, no longer able to defend herself, a fine woman whose reputation was at risk, whose life could be turned into a mockery now after her death. Her sin? Possibly murder, but possibly only that she had fallen in love with an unsuitable man. Human.

Her lover, Mr. Wonderful. Unknown at present, but possibly a weak man who had yielded to temptation with the wrong woman. Human.

And Gus Marchand himself. The world had seen the righteous man, the man who feared G.o.d, who had lived by impossible standards. The world had been blind to the man who had ruined his wife's life with his rigid beliefs that did not include s.e.xual joy and who had failed to keep his children pure.

He was the center. The ripples of his life and death were still in motion, disturbing, changing, threatening everything they touched.

She arrived at Frank's house at seven; as soon as she entered, fatigue swept over her, and the aroma of onions and garlic made her knees go weak.

”Thought you were going to skip dinner altogether,” Frank said in way of greeting. ”Have you eaten anything today?”

”I think so. A sandwich. Or was that yesterday?” She said it lightly, but in truth she didn't know.

Herbert stepped out from the kitchen to call, ”You folks about ready to eat?”

They were. He had made Cajun jambalaya and okra deep-fried in a beer batter. ”Down-home kind of food,” he said complacently. ”Comfort food, know what I mean?”

Barbara nodded. It was delicious and she was starved; the start of a headache vanished, and her stomach settled down to its customary state of silence.

After dinner she trailed after Frank to the living room. ”Got a minute?” she asked. Neither of them had mentioned Alex during the meal; they didn't talk about business in front of Herbert, even if he did work for Bailey.

”Sure.” Frank settled on the sofa and she took a chair across the coffee table from him. Both cats strolled in; one settled on his lap, the other one on hers.

”They're getting fat,” she said.

Frank patted his stomach. ”I'm afraid I am, too.”