by J. A. Jance
"You maybe, not me," Ralph asserted with a dangerously quiet but determined edge to his voice. His tone more than anything should have alerted me, but I kept after him.
"How'd she do it, Ralph? Hold a gun to your head? What kind of weapon does it take to convince an otherwise intelligent, usually reasonable man to run around tilting at windmills?"
Ames came back and sank down heavily onto the bench beside me. "The woman's a born salesman," he answered forlornly. "Alexis Downey doesn't have a qualm in the world about going straight for the jugular. She used the only argument that was guaranteed to work."
In a pathetic way, he was still trying to joke around about it, but something about his dejected appearance betrayed the fact that he was genuinely disturbed. What was going on?
"Such as?" I pressed. "Tell me. I want to know."
Ralph shook his head. "Forget it. You're not involved. Can't be-not with Fraymore breathing down your neck. It was wrong of me to even bring it up."
And that's when I knew exactly how Alex had done it-as soon as Ralph refused to tell me. The look on his face gave him away.
"Anne Corley?" I asked. "Is that it?" Several years later, my heart still stumbles at the sound of her name. "Alex hit you with Anne?"
Ralph nodded. "She said, ‘You would have defended Anne Corley if they'd arrested her, wouldn't you?' And it's true. I would have. In a minute. You and I both know Anne was guilty. On the face of it, Tanya Dunseth's case is almost the same thing. I'd be a complete hypocrite if I didn't do everything in my power to help. I owe Anne Corley that much."
Ralph didn't add the words "We both do" to the end of his sentence. It wasn't necessary. I supplied them myself. With unerring instinct, Alex had hit on the one sensitive issue guaranteed to grab both Ralph Ames and J.P. Beaumont by the short hairs and haul them into line. Neither one of us had been able to save Anne Corley. I wondered if Ralph really believed he could salvage Tanya Dunseth.
That's when I realized Ralph didn't actually believe Tanya Dunseth was innocent, either. "What do you go for, temporary insanity?"
Ralph frowned. "That might work for Martin Shore because of the movie connection. I'm not so sure about Daphne Lewis. That's one reason I need to talk to Tanya."
We sat without speaking for several long minutes. The door to the hospital lobby opened, and a family of visitors emerged. There was an elderly woman-a grandmother, I suppose-a middle-aged couple, and two adolescent children. They came out wearing the saddened faces and speaking the subdued talk of people who have not received good news. Seeing them reminded me of why I was there.
"What's going on inside?" I asked. "Any word?"
The change of subject helped a little, and Ralph smiled slightly when he answered. "I thought we were going to see some real fireworks."
"Fireworks? Why? What happened?"
"Alex and Karen almost got into it."
"How come?"
"The doctor came out and said that one person could go into the recovery room and sit with Kelly, to be there with her when she started coming out of the anesthetic. Karen got up to go, but Alex suggested maybe Jeremy should. And he did."
I shook my head in disbelief. "You mean Karen actually backed down?"
"That's right," Ralph answered.
I was thankful not to have been caught in the cross fire of that particular skirmish. Sitting on the bench and talking with Gordon Fraymore was grueling enough and not anywhere near my idea of a good time, but being sucked into the brewing power play between Alexis Downey and Karen Beaumont Livingston would have been far worse. For me, anyway.
"Has anyone actually talked to the doctor?"
"He ventured into the waiting room far enough to deliver a prepared-speech-type update to the entire assembly. He seemed aware of the fact that Kelly's visitors come from two entirely separate camps. He talked about a depressed skull fracture and said things were ‘hopeful.' That's a direct quote."
"‘Hopeful' doesn't sound all that good to me," I said gloomily.
"Don't complain," Ralph responded. "It's a whole lot better than ‘hopeless.'"
Point taken and noted. "Hopeless" was a hell of a lot worse, as anyone but a complete jackass would realize.
"Thanks for reminding me," I said. And meant it.
We stayed on the bench a while longer. I didn't say what I was thinking, but Ralph had left me enough room to make up my own mind. Finally, I stood up and started toward the car. Ralph got up to follow. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"I thought you wanted to drive out to Live Oak Farm and see your client," I told him. "If she's home, you'll be better off seeing her there before Gordon Fraymore locks her up in jail."
We reached the Porsche together, but on opposite sides of the vehicle. Ralph caught my eye across the sunroof.
"Thanks for not hassling me about all this," he said. "It doesn't make much sense, but this is something I have to do."
"Don't worry," I said. "I understand."
And I did. Of course the idea of dropping everything to defend Tanya Dunseth was crazy as hell, but Anne Corley still haunted Ralph Ames almost as much as she did me, so I, of all people, was in no position to argue. My mother always warned me about stones and glass houses.
With that we both climbed into the car and slammed our respective doors. Only when we were well down Siskiyou Boulevard did we speak again. "When Fraymore finds out what we're up to, he's going to shit a brick. I probably will end up in jail."
Ralph grinned. "Don't worry," he said, laying on his best lawyerly charm. "If that happens, I'll make you the same deal I'm giving Tanya. Strictly pro bono. I won't charge a dime to bail you out."
"Gee, thanks, Ralph," I told him. "I knew I could count on you." And then we both laughed.
The tension in the car dissipated a little, but not very much, and not for very long. By the time we reached Live Oak Farm, it was back, as strong or stronger than before.
In the first cooling of evening, we stopped beside the uncompleted front steps leading up to the farmhouse. A pair of worn sawhorses stood nearby. An array of power tools lay scattered on the porch. Someone had spent the afternoon actively working on the reconstruction project, although now it was apparently break time. Several new eight-by-twelve support posts were visible underneath the flooring, but the jack still stood in place; the steps remained an unusable skeleton.
Although I could detect no distinct cooking aromas, dining-room-type noises emanated from the open windows as soon as I turned off the car engine. Ralph and I piled out of the Porsche and walked up to the edge of the front porch. Sunshine heaved herself to her feet and walked over to examine us through cloudy, cataract-obscured eyes. From the looks and sound of her, I figured Sunshine wasn't long for this world. The old dog managed only one croaking, halfhearted bark before Marjorie Connors stepped outside.
"Hello, Mr. Beaumont," Marjorie Connors said quite civilly for her. "How's Kelly?"
The woman didn't act as though all was forgiven, but at least she didn't threaten to call the sheriff. That was some small progress.
"Better," I said. "She's out of surgery."
Marjorie nodded. "Good. What can I do for you?"
"We'd like to see Tanya Dunseth, if you don't mind."
Marjorie raised one questioning eyebrow, but she voiced no objections. "We're just now picking up after dinner," she said. "It's cooler out on the back deck. Why don't you wait there? I'll send Tanya out as soon as we finish."
Halfway around the house, we walked past the entrance to that fateful basement. The wooden door was padlocked shut and sealed with strips of yellow crime-scene tape. I kept my eyes straight ahead.
On the back deck, all evidence of the late-morning buffet had been totally erased. Some more or less permanent deck furniture remained, but most of the tables and chairs and all the food, tablecloths, and garlands had disappeared from the face of the earth. It was as though everyone at Live Oak Farm wanted to forget we were all supposed to be down in Lithia Park cele
brating a wedding.
I didn't blame anyone for wanting to forget. I did, too.
On the lowest level of the deck stood a redwood picnic table with two splintery benches. We both sat. While we waited for Tanya to appear, I studied Ralph Ames. Not particularly tall or powerfully built, he was an unlikely-looking candidate for the role of knight in shining armor. I knew a daily regimen of swimming laps in his Scottsdale pool kept his body in fighting-trim condition. He was dressed casually that day, which, for Ralph, meant a Polo golf shirt, impeccably creased Ralph Lauren trousers, and blemish-free Johnston amp; Murphy loafers. Wing tips. With tassels.
"What will you do if Tanya turns you down?" I asked somberly.
"She won't." Ralph's reply was brisk and confident. "I'm prepared to play hardball."
Tanya, her hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail and wearing shorts and a tank top, emerged from the house a few minutes later. She was drying her hands on the back of her shorts, while Amber trailed behind, dragging along an assortment of toys. We both rose to meet them.
"Sorry it took so long, Mr. Beaumont," Tanya apologized. "House rules say we all have to clean up together after mealtimes."
Plainly, Tanya Dunseth was not at all herself. Her skin seemed exceptionally pale. Ralph and I sat back down, but she didn't.
"How's Kelly?" Tanya asked anxiously. "Is she all right?"
"I hope so," I told her. "According to the doctor, it's still too soon to tell."
"And the baby?"
"Karen's fine," I said. "A few weeks early, but fine."
Tanya breathed a relieved sigh. "I was so worried. It's bad enough that Kelly's hurt. I don't know what I would have done if something happened to her baby. I know it's all my fault. None of this would have happened if Kelly hadn't been helping look for Amber."
"Don't blame yourself. Kelly was doing what anyone would do. But that's not why we're here. Right now I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine, Ralph Ames. He's an attorney."
At the word "attorney," an expression of guarded wariness crossed Tanya's face. She didn't actually move away from us, but there was a perceptible drawing back-a distancing.
"He's a personal friend of mine," I continued reassuringly. "I guess you two weren't introduced at the brunch." Tanya shook her head.
Ralph smiled and reached across me to her, holding out his hand. "The name's Ralph," he said.
They shook hands, but Tanya's heart wasn't in it. She stood there facing us like a watchful bird poised for flight. At the slightest provocation, I was afraid she would scoop Amber into her arms and disappear. If she did that, Gordon Fraymore would be pissed off at everybody, including Ralph Ames, self-appointed attorney for the defense.
"I asked Beau here to bring me out so I could meet you," Ralph said, speaking calmly, addressing himself directly to Tanya. "I wanted to talk to you in private."
She examined his face with a puzzled frown. "How come?"
"I believe you may need our help," he answered quietly.
Tanya's mouth tightened. She folded her arms in front of her. "Why would I?"
With a glance at me, Ralph said, "I presume Detective Fraymore has been by to talk to you?"
Her eyes flitted apprehensively from Ralph's face to mine. "Several times so far, but I don't see how that's any concern of yours."
"Do you mind my asking what he said?"
"Yes, I mind," Tanya replied with a flash of anger. "I mind a lot."
She vacillated between being frightened and argumentative. Didn't she understand what was at stake here? Surely, she realized Gordon Fraymore meant to arrest her. Or did she? I couldn't tell.
Meanwhile, Ralph was growing frustrated. He's used to having his polite, understated manner achieve instant results, but this time that tried-and-true technique wasn't working. He must have drawn much the same conclusion, because his next depth-charged statement jarred me, and it shocked the hell out of Tanya Dunseth.
"Beau here and I haven't actually seen the videotape of you and Martin Shore, but we know all about it," Ralph said quietly.
He might as well have dropped a bomb onto the middle of the wooden deck. Tanya's body stiffened. She glared at Ralph from flat, angry eyes. "I didn't kill him," she declared. "I didn't kill either one of them."
"Did Detective Fraymore ask you about them?"
Tanya ignored Ralph's question. "Are you really an attorney?" she demanded. "I'll bet you're from the Festival. Did they send you out here to make me quit?"
"Please, Miss Dunseth. I'm not with the Festival. We're here to do nothing of the kind."
"Then how do you know about the tape? Who told you? Fraymore?" Her eyes darted furiously from Ralph's face to mine.
"Actually," Ralph said, "Mr. Beaumont is the one who first brought the tape to Gordon Fraymore's attention."
She turned on me. "Thanks a lot," she jeered. "Nice guy. Remind me to return the favor sometime."
"You don't understand," Ralph interjected quickly in my defense. "He had no choice in the matter. As soon as he realized both you and Martin Shore were in the film together, he was legally constrained to turn it over to the investigating officer. That's the law, Tanya. It's the way things work."
"Not if I didn't kill him," she retorted.
"And you didn't?"
"No."
"But you did know him."
"Of course I knew him. I was on the tape with him. You said so yourself. I just want to know one thing. That tape was made years ago. Where did it come from after all this time? Did they find it on Martin Shore's body? In his room?"
"Fraymore didn't tell you?" Tanya shook her head.
"It came from Denver Holloway."
Tanya's eyes widened in alarm. "Dinky? The director?"
Ralph nodded. "She received it in her mail yesterday, along with a note from Monica Davenport asking if she knew anything about your previous acting experience."
The shock of that news wiped out Tanya's last reserves of strength. Her knees wobbled under her. She grabbed the edge of the table for support and eased herself down onto the bench while Ralph leaped to assist her. Amber had been playing contentedly near her mother's feet. Now, instinctively knowing something was wrong, the child clambered onto her mother's lap. Tanya gripped the child tightly as though drawing some of the child's natural resilience into her own grown-up body.
"So the Festival knows about that, too," Tanya breathed.
Ralph nodded. "I'm afraid so," he said.
Tanya shook her head despairingly. "I haven't done anything wrong, but that's the end of it. The Festival won't keep me on, not with all the adverse publicity."
"Don't you see? That's why we came," Ralph said. "I'd like to be your attorney."
"Do I need an attorney?"
"Did Gordon Fraymore tell you you were a suspect?"
"No, but…"
"You are," Ralph asserted. "In not one but two cases, and unless someone helps you, you're going to jail. Now tell me, was Martin Shore blackmailing you?"
Staring blankly at Ralph's face, Tanya shook her head. "No. Why would he?"
"To get something you had that he wanted."
"What would that be? I don't have any money."
"Maybe he found out you were becoming an established actress, and he wanted you to make another movie for him."
"No," Tanya said, shaking her head. "I'm too old for what he does."
I had stayed quiet because Ralph was doing an admirable job without any help from me. In that kind of situation, it's best not to interrupt. Now, though, I couldn't help asking a question of my own. It was, after all, the question that had dragged me into this fracas to begin with.
"What about Amber?" I asked. "Is it possible that he wanted to use Amber instead?"
An almost visible jolt shot through Tanya Dunseth's body, a tremor just like the one I had seen two nights earlier in the Members' Lounge. Tanya hugged a now sleeping Amber tightly to her breast, but the gaze she turned on me was filled with murderous intensity.
<
br /> "Is that why he came to town?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
"We don't know," Ralph answered for both of us. "That's what we're trying to find out."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Tanya hissed. "If they had tried that, I would have killed them myself. In fact, just thinking about it makes me wish I had."
"But you didn't?" Ralph asked.
"No. So help me God, I didn't."
Ralph is good, but he missed the most important part of what Tanya Dunseth had said. My homicide-trained ear zeroed in on it.
"You said ‘they,'" I pointed out quietly. "They who?"
Tanya looked over at me, her eyes suddenly steady and solemn. "Martin Shore and Daphne Lewis," she said. "Who else did you think I meant?"
Ralph and I exchanged startled glances. "You knew them both?" I asked.
Tanya shook her head. "Go away," she said. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"But you're saying Martin Shore and Daphne Lewis were connected? That they knew each other?"
"I've said too much already. Leave me alone." Her eyes filled with tears.
Gordon Fraymore had told me he was looking for a connection between Daphne Lewis and Martin Shore. He claimed that if one existed, he hadn't found it yet. Either he had lied to me-a distinct possibility-or Tanya hadn't told him what she'd just told us. Which was it?
"When Fraymore was here, did you tell him about that?"
Tanya shook her head. "He's getting paid to find things out. Why should I tell him anything? Why make it easy? Like you said, he already thinks I killed them, and he's going to arrest me."
She stood up suddenly. "Where are you going?" I asked.
"To put Amber in her crib. She's too heavy to hold like this. I'll be right back." With that, Tanya Dunseth hurried into the house, leaving Ralph and me sitting on the picnic benches and stewing in our own juices.
"Will she come back out?" Ralph asked.
"Beats me," I said. "That's anyone's guess, but I don't think we'd better go in after her. We weren't invited."
Where Marjorie Connors was concerned, I wasn't about to take any chances.
