High Country Fall

CHAPTER 12

Riding up to the Ashes’ party with Billy Ed Johnson last night must have inoculated me—that or realizing that I was later getting out of the condo than I’d planned and would have to jog down those steps if I wanted to get to court on time. Whatever, I threw my robe onto the front seat of my car, slid my laptop in on top of it, and brushed a handful of bright yellow leaves from my windshield. Then, gearing the engine to its lowest setting so that I wouldn’t have to stand on the brakes, I eased my car down that long steep drive.

As is often the case when I make myself do something I dread, the reality wasn’t anywhere near what my imagination had painted. I did not pass out with vertigo, I did not flip ass-over-teakettle, I did not burn out my brakes. A few prosaic minutes later, I successfully turned into the courthouse drive-through. Someone else had parked in Judge Rawlings’s space, though, and I had to drive on down a ramp to the visitors’ lot and enter through the lower level, where the sheriff’s office and jail were.

“Judge Knott, is it?” asked the lawman in plain clothes who held the door for me as I approached.

I looked at him more closely. Late thirties, slim build, about five-ten, brown hair, a gray corduroy sports jacket that didn’t quite hide the gun on his belt. “Have we met?”

“No, ma’am. I’m with the detective squad here. George Underwood. Major Bryant told me to keep an eye out for you.”

An unexpected spurt of happiness suddenly bubbled up inside. “You know Dwight?”

“Well, I can’t say as I really know him. I think we might’ve met at one of the training sessions down in the Raleigh area. He and a good buddy of mine are friends, though, and Jack must’ve told him I work up here. Anyhow, he called to say hey and to tell me you were holding court in Cedar Gap this week. Guess he wanted some boots on the ground in case you needed anything.” He grinned. “Or something like that.”

“Or something like that,” I agreed, smiling back.

“Anything I can do for you, you just let me know.”

I assured Detective Underwood—“Call me George”—that I certainly would, and for starters had him point me toward the elevator.

Mary Kay was just bringing a fresh carafe of coffee when I got to Judge Rawlings’s office. I still had about fifteen minutes before court convened, and I used it to call Dwight.

There was a time when learning he’d phoned someone like Underwood would have annoyed the hell out of me. Today, for some reason, it only amused me. Amused me, but also gave me an strange sensation I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t like feeling protected, exactly … more like cherished.

Cherished?

I’ve been loved a time or two, and guys have brought me flowers and candy and even an occasional piece of jewelry, but cherished? I found myself remembering something Minnie once told me when we were talking about romantic gestures.

“Your brother Seth’s not one for mushy talk,” she said, “and he might forget my birthday or our anniversary, but I’ve never once left the yard to drive somewhere overnight that he hasn’t checked the oil and fluid levels in my car. In all these years we’ve been married, I’ve never had a radiator belt break on me or had to change the wipers or pushed the washer lever and found it empty. And you know something, Deborah? I must not be very romantic either, because that means more to me than any big bunch of roses.”

The phone rang twice.

“Bryant here.”

“Hey,” I said.

“Deb’rah? Well, hey yourself, shug. I got your e-mail and just sat down to write you back. How’s it going?”

“I met your friend George a few minutes ago.”

“Oh?” From the wary tone of that one syllable, I knew he thought I was fixing to chew his hide.

“You checking up on me?”

He heard the laughter in my voice and relaxed with a warm chuckle of his own. “The eyes of a lawman are everywhere.”

“No escape?”

“No point in even trying.”

“So how are things down in the flatlands?”

“Same as when you left. Let’s see now … Mama and I had Sunday dinner with Rob and Kate, then your dad and I aggravated some bass right before dark. Let ’em all go, though. And yesterday we set a few roadblocks around Widdington.”

“Because of the increased drug activity they’ve had lately?”

“Yeah. It was the usual DWIs and expired licenses, but we did pick up a few ounces of this and that. Caught one guy with eighty thousand dollars in his trunk.”

“And of course he didn’t have the least little clue as to how it got there, right?”

“And since he said it wasn’t his, we took it off his hands,” Dwight agreed. “Maybe it’ll buy a new school bus or two on down the line. Everything going okay up yonder in the hills? Seen much of your cousins?”

“Late and soon,” I said and told him about yesterday’s probable cause hearing, the twins’ partisan defense of Danny Freeman, his unexpected presence at breakfast this morning, and how they hoped to uncover other suspects.

“You’re not getting involved, are you?” he asked with a touch of his old bossiness.

“Don’t worry. It’s absolutely nothing to do with me.”

An attorney from yesterday’s court appeared in the doorway with an order that needed a judge’s signature, so I told Dwight I’d see him Saturday morning and reached for the document.

Lucius Burke was passing in the hallway and stopped to say hello.

“Norman Osborne get home okay last night?” I asked, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my long black robe.

He shook his head. “And Sunny’s already called me twice because the sheriff doesn’t want to put out a missing persons report on him yet. I’m going down now to talk to him about it.”

I zipped up my robe. “Could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have the whole file on the Ledwig investigation?”

He nodded.

“I was wondering about the older daughter’s alibi.”

“Carla Ledwig? What about it?”

“She has one, right?”

“I guess. I couldn’t tell you what it is off the top of my head, but I’m sure someone checked or I’d remember since it was her boyfriend who did it. Why?”

“No real reason.” I explained about the twins and how they’d said Carla Ledwig had been with them all afternoon. “I was wondering if I could read their statement since they’re my cousins.”

If my explanation sounded lame, he was kind enough not to call me on it.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll have my secretary pull it for you.”

“’Preciate it,” I told him and headed for the courtroom to try and dispense a little justice.

The first case was being called before I realized I hadn’t noticed his green eyes at all.

Lucius Burke was as good as his word. A few minutes before the morning break, a woman handed the file to Mary Kay and I took it back to chambers with me to see if I could figure out why the twins had lied about where they were.

“In the library,” May had said.

“In Carla Ledwig’s dorm room,” June had said.

I read it through twice and was even more puzzled. According to the officer who took their statement, Carla and the twins had worked in the same restaurant that afternoon. Carla was a hostess there, and her unbroken presence was confirmed not only by the twins but by several prominent-sounding customers.

Now why would they lie to me about that?

I was halfway through the pre-lunch session before the answer hit me square in the face.