“I’ll permit it. Go on, Mr. Urban,” the judge said.
Jimmy pulled his hand over his mouth, like he was turning a smile upside down. “Well, he told me she was a crazy old bat and I was to let him know if that changed.”
A funny warmth started in my belly.
Greyhound looked down at his table, like he was reading notes, but I could see from my seat that his notepad was blank. “Did Lester share with you his thoughts about Gidget’s possessions and finances?”
Jimmy snorted. “That she was a slut who’d stolen from his gallery.”
Attorney Little exploded while he was speaking. “Objection. Hearsay.”
Greyhound turned to her, and I saw his smile in profile. “Mr. Urban is testifying as to statements made to him by Lester, in the course and scope of his employment with Lester. I believe that’s an exception to the hearsay rule.”
Suddenly it was clear why Greyhound was rich and famous for his lawyering.
“Overruled,” the judge said, his voice dry.
Greyhound smiled. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
My tension eased a little bit, but not much.
“Mr. Urban, did you ever have a reason to tell Lester anything about Gidget other than what he wanted to hear? Oh, that was confusing. Let me rephrase that. Did you ever tell Lester that Gidget wasn’t a crazy old bat?”
“Uh, no, sir.”
Attorney Little spoke without looking up, one hand up with one finger raised. “Objection, Your Honor. Leading.”
“He’s allowed to lead, Attorney Little, he’s questioning your witness.”
She made a sound like a horse’s laugh. The judge didn’t look amused.
Greyhound acted like she didn’t exist. “So, Mr. Urban, would it surprise you to hear that I found Ms. Becker to be quite capable and sharp when she met with me about her will?”
“Not really.”
Attorney Little started tapping her foot. She was turned away from Jimmy and toward the side of the courtroom.
“Why is that, Mr. Urban?”
“Because she wasn’t crazy. She got better and did real good.”
Attorney Little studied her fingernails.
Lester shouted, “That lying son of a bitch!”
I smiled.
“Order.” Judge Gonzales rapped his gavel.
Greyhound was unruffled. “What do you mean, ‘better’?”
“Her memory got better. She wasn’t confused. She didn’t have those seizures as much anymore. She was the girl I knew, from back in the days when we were courtin’.”
The judge smiled for a split second. An image of sixty-four-year-old Gidget flirting with Jimmy as he put flowers in a mason jar on her kitchen table flashed into my mind.
“But you didn’t tell Mr. Tillman this?”
“No, sir, I reckon I didn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“He was paying me. Not much, but some. If I told him she was better, he woulda quit paying me. It’s hard to make a living as a chicken farmer, you know?”
The judge actually nodded at this point.
“Yes, Jimmy, I think we do know. Your witness,” Greyhound said to Attorney Little as he sat back down.
She stalked to the witness box, her fluid body stiff.
“Mr. Urban,” she said in a fakely sweet voice. “So, you’re telling us that you’ve been lying to Mr. Tillman for a long time.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry about that.”
“But even though you’ve been lying to Mr. Tillman for a long time, we’re supposed to believe you today?”
Jimmy stewed on her question for a moment. “Yes, ma’am, that’s right.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Urban. You’re excused.”
Jimmy lumbered off the stand and all the way out the courtroom door.
Judge Gonzales stuck out his arm and glanced at his watch. “So, what other evidence would you like to present in opposition to the motion that Greyhound—I mean Attorney Smith—has before us today, Attorney Little?”
“I’d like to . . .” She paused for a second and smoothed the waist of her jacket. “There is potential defamation at stake implicit in the terms of Gidget’s will.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Potential defamation?”
“Your Honor, Ms. Becker hired a so-called writer to put together a book. In fact, one could say she paid dearly for it as she bequeathed nearly her entire estate to this . . . woman in the will we contend is invalid, then died before the book was written.”
My fingernails dug into my palms. I’d socked other girls more than once as a feisty child. As an adult, that was called assault, so I couldn’t indulge the urge toward people who deserved it. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it sometimes. Like now.
“We have evidence that we can present in chambers that will show the falsity of what Gidget was having this woman write, her motivation to prevaricate, and the grave harm it will cause.”
Greyhound snorted. “If you’ve got evidence, then it sounds like there’s a story there to me.”
I did a mini fist-pump by my thigh, but Attorney Little went on, not missing a beat.
“To let this continue based upon the input of a mentally impaired woman is reckless to the harm it will cause my clients, Your Honor.”
“You haven’t proved mental impairment, but I guess I can give you fifteen minutes in chambers.”
“And I want to cover this so-called Power of Attorney, Your Honor,” Greyhound said.
Judge Gonzales nodded and beckoned the court reporter. “Jane, we’ll need you in there as well. Court will resume in my office in five minutes. As to the proceedings here, we are temporarily adjourned.” He rapped the bench with his gavel, walked to a side door, and disappeared, looking square from the shoulders down in his unflattering robes.
Greyhound hefted his leather bag and walked past me, on the heels of Little, Tillman, and the woman I’d seen sitting down the row from Tillman. I didn’t have time to think about them, because I had something to say to Gidget’s attorney.
“What were you doing meeting with Tillman at the Round Top library yesterday, Greyhound?”
He turned around, his voice a low rumble. “Lester wanted to discuss ways to resolve this matter.”
“Which he should have done through his counsel.”
His face shifted into an angry mask. “I’m comfortable with my decision to meet with him yesterday. And I think it went pretty good in here today.”
I almost let up on him, but he knew what he’d done was highly inappropriate. “I guess we’ll know that after the hearing in chambers.”
“I guess we will.” He stormed out.
That went well. I slumped back into my seat. Motion in my side view drew my eyes to the tan and rested face of Ralph at the end of my row.
“I heard there was a hearing. What did I miss?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Before I could answer Ralph, the bailiff, a black man in his late fifties or early sixties, reentered the courtroom. His voice boomed. “The judge asked me to let y’all know court will reconvene here at one thirty.” He was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
I stood and Ralph hugged me. I returned it, feeling prickly and trying not to show it.
His eyes roamed the room. Proud. Admiring. “Your first time in here?”
“It is.”
“That blue stenciling is Wendish.” He gazed at the brilliant blue curlicues as he talked reverently. “The Wends wouldn’t rest until they’d built the original courthouse and secured Giddings as the county seat. They’d been powerless to protect their religion and culture in Germany. They weren’t going to let that happen again here. Course the original burned down and they had to rebuild, but they had more time to make it grand then.”
The Wendish roots ran deep here. Gidget’s roots. What would it have been like to escape persecution and risk it all for freedom? I hoped I never found out personall
y. “It’s beautiful.”
“Can I buy you lunch at Reba’s so you can catch me up?”
“Sure.”
“My granddaughter is with me, if that’s okay.”
“My teenagers are in town. I’ll call and see if they want to meet us.”
He exhaled, his shoulders falling half an inch. “Oh, good. She’s already tired of just Grandpa. Meet you there.”
In a series of quick texts, I got my kids in motion. I pulled up to Reba’s Village Deli & Pizzeria five minutes later, parking in front of a three-foot-high plaster-of-Paris statue of a chef whose face was half pig snout, half whinnying horse. I stepped inside Reba’s. It was darkish, even though there were full-length windows along the front of the restaurant and blonde wood on the floors. I had beaten Ralph and his granddaughter there, so I got a table big enough for six. I set my zebra handbag on the tabletop. It looked snazzy against the red-and-white harlequin pattern.
I’d barely sat when I saw Ralph escorting a tall, slender girl about Sam’s age to our table. She had long brown hair in a high ponytail, with wisps coming loose around her face. Her nose was lightly freckled and her eyes were green like Adrian’s.
I stood for introductions.
Ralph’s voice was nervous. “Rachael, this is Michele Lopez Hanson.”
“You can call me Michele,” I said to her, and stuck out my hand.
She didn’t say a word, just took it in a limp, teenage-girl shake with no eye contact. Worry crossed Ralph’s face. We took a seat and made small talk. Rachael’s silence was awkward at first, but then she got out her phone and started texting, and Ralph relaxed.
The front door burst open, followed by a woman’s strident voice, calling for me.
Rashidi’s voice answered her, his accent thick. “I tell you she gone. I deliver your message.”
I jumped up. “Excuse me, you guys.” I trotted around the ugly wooden bar with its faux roof of shake shingles. I found Sam, Belle, and Rashidi at the entrance. Rashidi’s face was stern. The subject of his ire was a woman I recognized.
She raised her voice, shrill and frantic. “I need to see her immediately. You have to take me to her.”
Rashidi put a hand on her arm. She jerked away, but he held on. “I askin’ you to leave, and I askin’ nicely. I can ask not nice if you rather.”
She gasped and put a hand over her chest with her other arm. “Okay. Let go of me.”
“Darlene,” I called as Rashidi released her.
She whirled toward my voice. She whispered louder than a shout, “Don’t use that name.”
Everyone in earshot went silent. Watching us. Listening. I took the last few steps to her at a sedate pace. She looked at me, eyes wide. Terrified? Confused? She could have a mental disorder. It might explain why she had met me under cloak and dagger before. She could also have a weapon. I’d be careful.
“It’s okay.” I smiled at her, channeling Papa. When he met with the owners of gravely ill or injured animals, he acknowledged instead of ignored their distress. With the animals, he used a gentle tone and touch. I took her hand and squeezed it, then reached for her elbow with my other hand. “I’m right here.”
Her voice trembled. “I have to speak to you alone.”
I turned my gaze to Rashidi and the kids. Annabelle and Sam had moved past startled on their way to freaked out. “It’s okay, guys. We’re good.” Sam put his hand on my back and Annabelle scooched under his shoulder. “We go way back. Or at least a few days.” I winked at Darlene and she smiled on autopilot. “We’re just going to step outside for a brief conversation. I’ll be right back. Rashidi, you’ve met Ralph, right?”
“Yah, mon.” His voice was edgy, and his thundercloud eyes told me he didn’t like my plan.
“Why don’t you take Belle and Sam into the dining area around the corner. Ralph’s waiting with his granddaughter, Rachael. She’s their age, and I know she’s dying to meet them.”
Rashidi shook his head at me, and I nodded firmly. Once. Twice. Three times. Until he stopped shaking his head and sighed.
“Le’we go.” He put his fingers lightly on Annabelle’s shoulder, then clapped Sam on the back.
“This way.” I opened the door for Darlene, stealing a quick glance back at Rashidi and the kids. They were all three doing the same toward me. I gave them a thumbs-up. The heat sucked the air out of my lungs. I squinted without the sunglasses I’d left in my handbag at the table.
“My car’s over here.” Darlene turned and pointed. She led me to a silver Mercedes E-Class. We climbed in and she turned on the engine and full-blast air conditioning. The inside of the car had a cloying scent from a car deodorizer attached to an air conditioner vent. It smelled like an explosion of artificial freesia. Combined with her heavy perfume, it was suffocating. I smelled something more. I flicked my finger on the ash tray and saw the butt end of a joint in a roach clip.
She shoved my hand out of the way as she shut the cover over the marijuana.
I lifted my hands. “I just thought I smelled pot. I’m not a cop, and I’m not judging.”
“It’s for pain management,” she screeched at me.
“Absolutely.” I smiled at her. “So, you needed to talk to me so badly that you drove all the way to Giddings to do it. Why didn’t you just call?”
“I did. But you didn’t call back, and I was given a deadline. I had to get to you before you wrote anything about, well, you know, our conversation, and about Gidget and—” She stopped and stared at her hands.
They were shaking and she clasped them together hard. Her long, skinny fingers were pale and wrinkled. The immaculate manicure of a few days ago was chipped. Several diamond-encrusted gold bands encircled her fingers, with a few rubies, sapphires, and emeralds in the mix.
She claimed she’d called me. Well, maybe she had. The last few days had been insane. Had it been only yesterday I’d left her that voice mail? And had I even checked mine again since then? So much was happening, so fast. I couldn’t keep up.
I nodded at her. “Okay. How about you start at the beginning?”
She started to say something, but a sob came out instead. She put her knuckles to her mouth, biting down on them.
“Okay, let me try. I got confirmation that Gidget had a daughter in 1975. Her parents placed her with an adoptive family. So now that I have outside verification of this child’s birth—”
“I know nothing.” Her voice rose an octave on “nothing” and quavered. “I should never have spoken to you.” She wrung her hands again, hard. So hard I wanted to hold them to keep her from hurting herself. “My husband always tells me that I’m a foolish woman. Dramatic. Talk too much. I’m a foolish, foolish woman.” The words were clipped off by heavy breaths as she fought for control. She gave a high-pitched laugh. “I made it all up and if you say any different, I’ll tell people you’re a liar.”
I didn’t answer her for a moment, just let her breathe and calm down. Her anxiety was suffocating, and I was catching it like it was being forced into my lungs. I picked at a hangnail, then bit at it. Before I could stop myself, I chomped off the edge of the fingernail. Not good. I dropped my hands, then stretched my shoulders, up, back, and in, and crawled a little height into my spine.
“So, Lester got to you.” I used a slow cadence and said it as a statement, not a question.
“Lester?” She snorted. “No. He’s greedy and an egomaniac and a bad judge of character, but he’s no killer. Besides, it’s not his secret. All he did was take the dirty money.”
Killer? Secrets? Dirty money? The hairs rose on my arms. “I really need to know who scared you.”
“You should be scared, too.”
“Why? I don’t—”
“Powerful people.” Tears had pooled at her expensive cleavage, and her false eyelashes drooped. “You have to leave me out of this. And if you’re smart, you’ll drop it yourself.”
Her words had the opposite impact on me. I’d never wanted to pursue Gidget’s story more
than I did right then. “Drop what?”
“You know. The baby.” She chewed the lipstick from her lips, staining her teeth bright red. “I have nothing more to say. You need to get out of my car, forget my name, and never contact me again.”
I cocked my head, trying to think of a way to stall her.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Please leave my car before someone sees us together.”
I chuckled. “Someone in Giddings, Texas?”
Her eyes cut to me, fast, then back away.
“Okay.” Before I’d even shut the door behind me, she was backing out. I had to jump to keep her from running over my foot.
I watched her peel out of the parking lot, hands on my hips. The back of my head prickled. I turned, searching for the source of my karmic itch. The woman I’d seen with Lester and Attorney Little was parked in a teal Yukon, watching me. When our eyes met she accelerated and left the other side of the lot in as big a hurry as Darlene had a moment before.
***
Rashidi was monitoring us through a front window as I walked slowly back to Reba’s. When I reached for the door handle, he turned and walked back into the restaurant. It had gotten busier in the few minutes since I left it. I pushed my way through staring eyes and halted conversations.
When I reached my table, everyone stopped talking.
“Well,” Sam said from his seat beside Rachael, whose cheeks were rosier than earlier. “What did the crazy lady have to say?”
Rashidi couldn’t have taken his seat more than a few seconds before. His eyes were dark and his arms crossed.
“She was someone I met in Houston the other day.” I licked my lips. “She heard I was writing Gidget’s story and is quite anxious for me to write hers, too.” I grinned.
My lie seemed to work, mostly. The kids lost interest and started chattering. Ralph made a humph noise and picked up his menu. But Rashidi’s eyes bored through me. The only free seat was beside him, so I took it.
“Was that the woman from the coffee shop in Houston?” His voice was so soft I had to lean against him to hear it.
“Yes. I’ll tell you about it later. I promise.”
The lunch went by in a blur. My mind was still in the Mercedes. In fact, the only thing that really stuck out to me was that Sam had lit up like a firecracker in the presence of Rachael. As we were leaving, he pulled me away from the others.
Fighting for Anna Page 30
