Part 22 (2/2)

An hour or two earlier Frank had known exactly what the chart meant, and now he no longer did. What one knows can change abruptly, he thought, as he had thought before. Only belief and faith persisted. ”I wish I knew why Gus Marchand never filed a formal complaint against Alex,” he said.

”What do you mean?” Barbara asked.

”If he really believed Alex was endangering his child, stalking her, why did he stop with a verbal threat to build houses? Something he couldn't have carried out.”

”He knew it was a lie,” she said after a moment. ”He must have known it was a lie.”

”Maybe.”

”You stopped believing Alex was a murderer, and now, if I read you right, you don't believe Dr. Minick is, either. Why?”

”As for Alex, the pen is mightier than the hammer, too. He has a superior weapon to use in his own defense. And Graham? I think he would be capable of killing for Alex, and he's ready to sacrifice himself, but I don't think he would put Alex through the h.e.l.l of being charged and facing trial. He would have confessed months ago if he had done it.”

She had not thought of Dr. Minick in those terms, but she nodded. Frank was talking about how a father would fight and die for his child, and Frank knew.

Frank stood up. ”I'll leave you to get to things,” he said. At the door he paused. ”Do you really believe Alex would kill himself if he's found guilty?”

She nodded. ”Also if he's exposed.” Then she said, ”If you looked like him, would you want to keep living in a fishbowl?”

”I don't know,” Frank said slowly. ”So help me G.o.d, I don't know.”

Later, when Sh.e.l.ley checked in to say she was leaving, Barbara said tiredly, ”I told you fifty-hour weeks. I lied. How many hours do you reckon you've put in this week?”

Sh.e.l.ley shrugged. ”Who counts? Are you staying longer? Do you have anything for me to do?”

”I'm staying awhile, and nothing for you. But tomorrow, if Alex comes with Dr. Minick, will you two reenact Daniel's movements when he reached the house? He said he met his mother in the hall and carried a box out to her car for her, not running, I'd guess, and then ran back in and upstairs to get money from his other jeans. Back down and out the front door. Start and stop right at the door. Dad's house isn't exact, but close enough probably to what the Marchand house is like inside. Can do? Take the stopwatch.”

”Can do. Alex will show up. I spoke on the phone with him; he'll come.” She looked at Barbara curiously. ”You don't really think Daniel had time to get into a fight with his father and kill him, do you?”

”Honey chile, I think the Wicked Witch of the West did the foul deed. There wasn't enough time for anyone to go in and start a fight, apparently. Maybe it was a fight of long standing and it just ended that day. Anyway, I'm going for the nanoseconds now.”

She didn't know how many miles she had walked from her desk to the reception room, back, stopping now and then to make a note, walking again. She was in the reception room when there was a tap on the door, and Frank called out.

”Barbara, open up.”

She opened the door.

”I saw your lights. Bobby, have you had anything to eat? What are you thinking of, skipping meals- What's wrong?” His voice went from irritable scold to concern in a flash.

”Come in and sit down. I'll tell you,” she said.

She sat down opposite her father; her legs were aching and her back hurt. ”I can't find anyone else to finger,” she said slowly. ”There were enemies, but I can't find one who had the free time that evening. Hilde is out. I think that's what she came to realize when she read their story in the newspaper, that the boys had seen her, and since they were there for under five minutes, she was home free. Maybe that's what she wanted to tell you. Maybe she called Wrigley and told him that. Anyway, she's out. And she couldn't have seen Alex or Dr. Minick go that way. Anyone leaving that house on foot would have been out of sight from someone on the driveway.”

She stood up again and walked to her desk, back. Frank wanted to catch her and force her into a chair, but he knew better. He watched her and waited.

”I keep coming back to Daniel or Leona,” she said, ”and I can't make it work. Daniel was in the house less than a minute. Even if Gus was the tyrannical father he appeared to be, Daniel was on his way out with a scholars.h.i.+p. He would get a driver's license in a few weeks. What possibly could have happened in less than a minute that could result in murder? The condoms? I can imagine a scene over them, but a scene takes a little time to develop, and there wasn't even a little. Less than a minute. And if they had come up as an issue, why didn't Daniel take them with him?” She s.h.i.+fted a paper or two on her desk, not looking at them.

”Leona,” she said. ”All morning she was the dutiful housewife, then school for hours. Back home to heat the meal, make a salad, set the table, pour his milk. At least half an hour, maybe longer. Then a bath, dress, back down. Even if he had brought up the birth-control pills, that doesn't seem to be enough to start a fight that resulted almost instantly in murder. Wouldn't she have said, We'll talk about it later, or something like that? From all accounts his abuse was emotional, not physical; she had no reason to fear him physically. I keep thinking that if she had enough courage to protect herself with birth-control pills, she must have had enough courage to defend that decision.”

She sank down onto the sofa and drew in a breath.

”Leave it alone for now,” Frank said. ”You're tired, and it's after ten. You haven't eaten, your brain is starved for food. Let's go to my place. I'll feed you and you can go to bed. Let it simmer until morning.”

She nodded, stood up once more and began to gather up the stacks of papers on the table, then other stacks on her desk, everything in piles according to the subject.

She was putting things away in her safe when Frank said, ”Sometimes no one ever finds out who did it, and all you can hope for is to keep the innocent from taking the blame.”

She closed and locked the safe, thinking, And what if the prosecution proves that no one except the innocent defendant could have done it?

30.

After dinner Sat.u.r.day, Frank began telling lawyer jokes; he had an endless supply of them, Barbara well knew. ”So Michelangelo is at the Pearly Gates and Saint Peter says, 'What did you ever do that lets you in?' 'I painted pictures, sir.' 'A lot of people paint pictures. Not good enough.' 'I did some sculpting.' 'You didn't even finish the Pieta. What else?' Michelangelo is getting desperate now, and he says, 'I studied law but I never practiced.' Saint Peter swings the gate open and says, 'Welcome, son.'”

Alex laughed, then said, ”That was a wonderful dinner, Mr. Holloway. Thanks. I'll do the cleanup.”

”See,” Frank said to Minick. ”Can't call me Frank. I think you know you're becoming a fossil when everyone under fifty calls you 'mister.'”

”I remember when he called me Graham for the first time,” Dr. Minick said. ”I was sitting on a rock over by John Day. We'd been hiking, looking at petroglyphs, and I was worn out. He said, 'Graham, don't move a muscle.' I thought he wanted to take a picture or something, but I didn't move, and then we both watched a rattlesnake slither within inches of my hand on the rock.”

Sh.e.l.ley finished her coffee and stood up. ”I'll help Alex.” They both picked up dishes and carried them out. Frank and Dr. Minick watched them, and Barbara watched Frank. He knew, too, she thought. Frank glanced at her, and she nodded slightly; he drew in a long breath and shook his head.

”I wonder if Gus got past those Pearly Gates,” she said.

”No way,” Dr. Minick said. ”Or at least not in any heaven I'd run. He was a misogynist, and that alone would disqualify him.”

She hadn't thought of that, but it fitted in with what she had learned about him. First his wife, then his daughter, who had ceased being a s.e.xless child and had turned into a woman. It explained a lot, she thought. Suddenly she felt as if somewhere within her head a different gate had swung open, and jumbles of images and thoughts, snippets of statements came pouring out in a chaotic ma.s.s.

She was aware that her father and Dr. Minick continued a conversation, but she had no idea of what they had been discussing, when Frank's voice grounded her again. ”Bobby, have you heard a word?”

She blinked, then looked in surprise at the table, completely cleared; Alex and Sh.e.l.ley had returned to the dining room, and Dr. Minick was standing by his chair regarding her with interest.

”I wanted to say good night,” Dr. Minick said. ”We'll be leaving now.”

Hastily she stood up. ”Me, too,” she said. ”Thanks for your help today. It really was a tremendous help to me. And, Dad, dinner was super, as always. I have to run.”

Frank nodded. He knew that she would walk miles that night while she sorted through whatever idea had occurred to her. This time, at least, she was fortified with a good meal.

As soon as she left, Dr. Minick said to Frank, ”I've seen that same kind of absence come over Alex, that same kind of going away, sometimes in the middle of one of my stories, in fact. The creative process, I believe.”

Alex nodded. ”I don't know how it is with her,” he said. ”But with me, it's as if the ghost of an idea casts a shadow over other thoughts, over whatever else is happening around me, and if I don't catch it immediately, it will vanish and probably never come back. At least, that's the fear that comes with it. Catch it when it comes, or lose it forever.” Then he said quite candidly, ”Will Thaxton's the only lawyer I've known until now. I never suspected an attorney would go through the same kind of mental gymnastics that I do.”

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