The mountain mans badge, p.23
The Mountain Man's Badge, page 23
“Constantine Richards refused to allow me to speak to him,” Lehigh said. “As for the D.A.—well, let’s just say I have reasons not to inform them of this just yet.” His heart rate quickened. If Ray Ferguson knew he had tried to speak to George, or that he’d shared this with his wife... “Let’s keep this confidential, between us for now, if we can. Okay?”
She nodded, her eyes gleaming. “So how can I help?”
“You have some history that could help your father out here,” Lehigh said, drawing out his words. “I thought maybe you could use your connections to verify what I’ve learned. The folks there clam up when they see a badge and a uniform pull up.”
“Who? Where?” Stacy clenched her napkin. “I don’t understand.”
Lehigh stared at the meal going cold on his plate. He’d rehearsed this conversation a billion times, and like every other time he did that, it never went according to the script. “I have reason to believe that the time of Everett Downey’s death happened earlier in the evening than what’s been reported in the news,” he said.
Stacy shrugged. “How does that help my father?”
Lehigh took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “A witness says he saw your father at the time of the murder...in a club.”
“A club?” Stacy’s face lost all color, and she slid her chair back from the table. “Lehigh. What club?”
Lehigh looked away from her. “Ev Downey’s place—Montgomery’s Lounge. Where you used to—”
“My father would never!” Stacy stood and glared at him. “Who was this? Who said they saw him there?”
“I’m not yet at liberty to—”
“They’re lying!” Stacy shook a finger at Lehigh, then pulled it back to her side. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not you saying this. But my father never went to those strip clubs. He spent his career trying to get them closed. He still refuses to believe I ever waited tables there!”
Lehigh shrugged again and shook his head. “It surprised me, too. But it meshes with other things we’ve learned—his business deals with Downey, for example.”
“That’s it!” She brightened and tapped her palm on the table. “He was there for business. Cutting a deal. Doesn’t that make more sense?”
Lehigh gave a slow nod, then shook his head. “That actually might look worse for him. Cutting secret business deals with a shady character like Downey just before he was killed gives him motive. Especially since he spent most of his political career claiming he wanted to shut those clubs down.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Maybe it’s best we just leave this story alone.”
Lehigh stood and stepped toward her, but stopped when she backed away. Dammit! She remained so angry at him, or at least, so wary of his intentions. “You understand,” he said, “if he was there—if—and if this witness’s story can be corroborated, it could provide your dad an alibi.”
“And ruin his reputation.”
Lehigh grimaced and let out another long breath. “Forgive me saying so, but I think it may be a tad bit late for that.”
Stacy opened her mouth as if to object, then closed it, nodding. “Yes. I suppose that’s true.” She smiled, even, then the smile soured. “It would kill my mother.”
“Again...”
“No,” she said, “even worse. My mom could probably live with the thought of Dad being a murderer. But the idea of him hanging out at a strip club...wait. Why are you making that face?”
Lehigh wished he could kick himself for his lack of poker face. If his expression showed even a tenth of the dread he felt about telling her what Ben had revealed to him, he’d never be able to keep it from her. “I just agree, I guess. It’s pretty bad.”
She stepped closer to him, peering into his eyes. “I know you, Lehigh. You’re holding back on something. Something even worse than him being a pervy old man. What is it?”
Lehigh spread his hands, tried to speak. No words came.
“Come on, Lee. Tell me!”
He stepped back, repelled by the force of her words. There was no hiding it now. If she did help him, she’d find out anyway. “He may have...visited the private rooms in back.”
“Impossible! My dad is not a cheat! Even with—even with—” Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my God, Lehigh. Are you sure that’s what they saw?”
Lehigh pressed his lips together and gave a slow nod.
“Were there witnesses? More than one?”
He churned one hand in the other, wishing his nerves would settle down. “That’s where I need your help. If you could use your connections, trade upon your own history there, maybe people would talk to you who wouldn’t talk to me or the D.A. Woman to woman, you know?”
“I don’t know, Lehigh. It’s been so long—over fifteen years. Nobody I knew then still works there.” She meandered into the living room, her mind off somewhere in the clouds.
After a minute of waiting, he joined her on the sofa. “I’m not saying this is one hundred percent true, or even a little bit true,” he said. “And if not, we’re no worse off than before. But if it is true, and we can get at least one other person to testify that they saw him there at the time of the murder, it proves your Dad’s innocence, and he goes free. Don’t you think that’s worth finding out?”
She stared out the picture window, tears flowing like waterfalls down her face. “I tried, all of my life, to keep my history there from my father,” she said. “I probably failed, but if so, he always kept up the pretense. If I do this, all of that comes out publicly.” She looked back at Lehigh. “All of it.”
Lehigh reached out his hand and waited several seconds. Still in tears, she unfolded her arms and rested her palm in his. He closed his hand on hers with the lightest possible pressure. “I understand,” he said. “It’s not just your dad’s reputation that would go down. I know this is a lot to ask. But, Stacy. I don’t ask this for me. It’s for your father. No matter what happens, I’ll stand by you, and support you, and do whatever I can to protect you.” He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back, nodding. “I know. Thank you.”
He waited a long minute while she thought, their eyes locked in the dimming daylight of the room. She reached for a tissue with her free hand, wiped away her tears, blew her nose. Fresh tears replaced the ones she’d brushed away, and she dabbed at her cheek with a fresh tissue.
She turned to him, a look of determination and grit in her eyes, her dark hair framed by the fading daylight from the picture window. She held his stare another long moment.
He waited.
Finally, she spoke. “It wasn’t easy for you to come here, was it?”
He shook his head. “I knew how hard it’d be for you. And if you can’t do it, I understand. I’ll just have to figure out a different way, that’s all.”
“You would?” She cocked her head, examining his face. “You’d help out my father, in spite of everything that’s happened—with him, between us—all of it?”
Lehigh surrendered a tiny smile and pulled her hand closer. “Of course. Not because he’s your father, per se. I’d do the same for any man I believed to be innocent.” He chuckled. “Not what you wanted to hear, I know, but—”
“You believe he’s innocent?” Hope tinged her voice. “Really?”
He nodded. But it was a slow nod, and she picked up on it.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” she said.
Lehigh drew another deep breath. Telling her the rest could undo the good will she’d extended thus far in the conversation. But not telling her seemed dishonest, and she’d find out sooner or later. “The people that hate me in this town—”
“People don’t hate you!”
He chuckled. “We both know that there’s at least a few who do. And we both know who they are. Anyway, they apparently are recruiting someone at the club, one of the dancers, to set me up. If you could find out who—”
“We could stop it before it happens! What kind of setup?” She moved closer, growing more excited.
“She’s supposed to take a punch or two and blame it on me, I guess.”
“Those scumbags would beat up a woman?” Stacy’s voice reached shrieking levels. “I’ll tear their eyes out!”
“And I’d hold them down for you,” he said. “But first, we have to prove it.”
She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Lehigh,” she said with a smile, “you got yourself a deal.. Let’s do this!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They gave the dogs each a bone to chew in the back yard, and then Stacy drove them both to the McBride mansion. Lehigh reasoned that they’d be less suspicious if they saw her Volvo rolling up the long drive rather than Lehigh’s unwelcome pickup or a sheriff’s department Crown Victoria. Not that he wanted to catch George unawares. He just didn’t want to be chased off the property at gunpoint.
They nodded to the armed marshals standing guard at the perimeter of the property, a condition of McBride’s house arrest since his ill-fated attempt to leave the state. He also had to wear a tracker bracelet and report his whereabouts and every movement to the court every 24 hours. While a far cry from barbed wire and black bars, Lehigh had no doubt that George felt as imprisoned as Buck Summers and his co-conspirators in county lockup.
Consuela, the diminutive housekeeper, greeted them at the door with a wide grin, hugging both of them and babbling in Spanish too fast for Lehigh to translate with his high-school language skills. She broke into English after giving Lehigh a good-natured shake of the shoulders. “How skinny you are! You stay for dinner, okay?” Their half-true protests of having already eaten fell on deaf ears, and she ushered them into George’s study with promises of wine for Stacy and McBride’s best scotch for Lehigh.
Lehigh leaned close to Stacy and whispered, “Does she know that we, uh...?”
“The whole town knows, Lehigh,” she said without moving her lips. “We’re all just very good at pretending otherwise.”
Stacy’s silver-haired mother, Catherine McBride, appeared in the doorway in a blue floor-length Polynesian-style dress, as if attending a formal ballroom event. “Darlings,” she said. “Why didn’t you call ahead? We’re having dinner with Constantine Richards and his wife tonight. You’ll understand if we can’t include you.” She pecked Stacy on the cheek, then, glaring at Lehigh, extended her hand. He took it and gave it a light squeeze, keeping his eyes on her face for any sign of emotion. She gave none.
“We won’t be long,” Stacy said. “Lehigh has something he’d like to ask Dad.”
“Sheriff Carter knows Mr. Richards’ office phone number, I presume,” Catherine said with a sniff. “Drinks?”
“Consuela’s on it,” Lehigh said. “Yes’m, I know how to reach Mr. Richards. He also knows how to put me off, no matter how much I’m trying to help his client.”
“Help? Hah!” Catherine turned her back on them and headed to the hallway. Consuela’s entry with a tray full of drinks interrupted her departure. Lehigh noted that her tray included a champagne flute that slipped right into Catherine’s hands. So much for her dramatic exit.
“He’s right, Mother,” Stacy said. “He has a lead that could help Dad’s case. But Mr. Richards won’t even take his calls.” She glanced at Lehigh as if for confirmation, and he gave a quick nod. “If we could speak privately with him—”
“Consuela, please ask the senator to join us,” Catherine said, as if asking for a glass of tea. Consuela handed Stacy and Lehigh their drinks, curtsied, and left without a word.
“I think it might be best if you weren’t here,” Stacy said, her eyes fixed on the coffee table in front of her.
“Pfft.” Catherine took the seat at the far end of the coffee table and crossed her legs. The chair’s seat reached a few inches higher than the sofa’s, which, if not for her tiny frame, would have enabled her to gaze down at them with the full force of her contempt. “George and I have no secrets.”
“You may have one or two,” Stacy said, still not making eye contact. Lehigh smirked behind his glass of Scotch, half-pretending to savor the light peat aroma an extra moment before taking a sip.
“We’d better not.” Catherine took a healthy sip of her champagne and smacked her lips. “I should have asked her to bring the bottle.”
“I second that,” Stacy said, sipping her chardonnay.
“Is that my daughter’s voice I hear?” George McBride’s booming voice echoed from the hallway. His voluminous shock of white hair appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, capping a smile that faded into a scowl. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said, pointing a pudgy finger at Lehigh.
“I brought him,” Stacy said before Lehigh could speak. “He has something important to say to you, Dad. I think you should hear it.”
“It had better be an apology,” George said with a scowl. Lehigh started to stand, but George stopped him with a face-out palm. “Oh, don’t get up, Carter, unless you’re planning to kneel and beg forgiveness.”
Lehigh paused in his rise, then stood to full height. “I prefer to stand,” he said. “I don’t like being looked down on.” In his boots, Lehigh had a good four or more inches on McBride, and he took no small pleasure in the irony of his statement. “But if it makes you feel better, yes, I am sorry I had to be the one to arrest you, sir. It was one of the worst days of my life.”
“I’ll tell you one that’ll be even worse,” McBride said, pushing his way around the furniture to stand nose-to-nose with Lehigh. “The day I’m proven innocent. Because on that day, I promise, I will run you right out of this town. Maybe out of the whole damn state! Now get the hell out of my house!” McBride waved his arm toward the door, spilling his drink all over Stacy.
“Dad! Please! Would you at least hear what he has to say? I swear, it just might help you!” Stacy pulled George away from Lehigh, then dabbed at her dress with a napkin.
“What would help me is if he resigned,” George said with a growl. Then he brightened. “Wait, is that what you’re here to announce? Then this would be a happy day!”
Lehigh drew in a slow breath. “What I have,” he said, “is a witness who says he saw you at the time of the murder.”
“Interesting, but impossible,” George said. “The murder was at, what, two in the morning? I was home, in bed, and my wife has already attested to that. Not that anyone will listen.” He finished off his Scotch and set the empty glass on the table.
“I have reason to believe the murder took place earlier than previously thought,” Lehigh said. “Before midnight.” He sipped his drink, letting the words sink in.
George stared at him, his expression still filled with contempt at first, but then he paled. His face drooped, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. “Catherine,” he said, “perhaps you could find Consuela and ask her to refresh my drink?”
“You’ve had plenty enough to drink before dinner,” Catherine said. “And I wouldn’t miss this for all the chocolate in Belgium. Who is this witness? And where did he say my husband was? George, weren’t you here, at home? Isn’t that what you said?”
George stared open-mouthed at her. He glanced at Lehigh, then Stacy. His lips quivered, and his body crumpled into a nearby easy chair. “Perhaps I ventured out for a short while,” he said. “You say someone saw me?”
“And he’s willing to testify,” Lehigh said. “But he’s only one witness. His account would carry more weight if he was corroborating your own story. Right now, they don’t line up.”
“Where in thunder were you, George?” Catherine said, sitting up straight in her seat. “And why in heaven’s name are you taking this so badly? Don’t you see what good news this is?”
George reached for his glass, found it empty, and dropped his arm back to his side, lips still quivering.
“Dad?” Stacy leaned forward, resting a hand on his arm. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Catherine asked, her voice a sharp bark. “What the hell’s the matter with you, George? Why don’t you answer us?”
George gazed up at Lehigh, his eyes pleading. “Is this witness of yours a reliable one?” he asked. “Will his testimony stand up in court, or is he, you know, one of the deplorable types that...” His mouth continued to move, but no words emerged.
“So it is true,” Stacy said.
“Damn it, will somebody please tell me what is so damned true and important before I scream?” Catherine shouted. “George. Answer me. Where were you that night?”
George glanced at her, then let his gaze fall to the floor. He maintained a still stare for 30 or 40 seconds, and finally spoke. “I went to meet with Ev Downey,” he said, his eyes flickering toward his wife for a moment. “We were negotiating a land deal for that new supermarket that was supposed to go in. But there were things about that deal I didn’t like. Some of the investors seemed a little shady to me.”
“Shadier than Ev Downey?” Stacy asked with a little too much sarcasm. George didn’t seem to notice.
“I wanted out of the deal,” he said. “I offered him an attractive buy-out option. He drove a hard bargain, and in the end, he agreed.”
“He agreed?” Lehigh said. “Did you draw up papers?”
“He said he’d have his people take care of that the next day,” George said. “Turns out, there was no next day.”
“That’s great news!” Catherine said. “Not that you partnered with such a low-life, but that people saw you meeting with him. I must say, though, I don’t understand why this is so hard for you to admit.”
George faced her, but lowered his eyes. “We met at Downey’s place. The club. You know, with the, uh, dancers.” He glanced at Stacy, then averted his eyes.
Catherine made a face like she’d just bitten a lemon. “Well, that’s unfortunate. But at least it was only a business meeting.” She smiled at her husband, who still refused to look at her. She waited. Still nothing.
“George,” she said, “it was just a business deal, right?”
McBride continued to stare at the floor. Catherine’s face fell. “Oh, George,” she said. “George, you didn’t...oh, hell. You did, didn’t you?”
