Murder in Plain Sight

CHAPTER FIVE

“THANK YOU, MR. FROST.” Jessica held out her hand to the elderly attorney. “I really appreciate your sharing your expertise with me.” Her interview with Frost had been helpful, and he’d been cooperative. Because of the Morgan connection with the case? Maybe, but she still appreciated it.

Gray eyes twinkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. “For a small-town fuddy-duddy, you mean.”

Was her embarrassment showing? That had been exactly the impression she’d had when she’d entered an office that looked as if it hadn’t changed since the 1930s and met the white-haired, stooped gentleman who’d risen from his rolltop desk at her approach. It had only taken a few minutes of conversation to realize how wrong she was.

“You’re as up-to-date as I am, and you have years more experience, as well. I’m surprised you’re not defending Thomas yourself.” An unpleasant thought occurred to her. “Is it because you’re convinced he’s guilty?”

Frost shook his head. “Even if I did, I’d still think he deserved a fair trial, unlike some people I could name, such as our esteemed district attorney.”

He sent an annoyed glance toward the newspaper lying on the corner of his desk. She’d already seen it. It contained a front-page interview with the district attorney, who seemed, by the way he spoke, to have Thomas already convicted and on his way to the state penitentiary.

“Is he usually that-” she considered several words and eliminated them “-outspoken?”

“Preston Connelly is ambitious. A case like this has already drawn regional attention. He’ll make the most of it, I’m sure.”

“Does that mean it would hurt your practice if you took on the case?” That would be a very good reason for bringing in an outsider.

“No, I’m stepping aside on doctor’s orders.” Frost patted his chest. “The old ticker’s been acting up a bit. Oh, I’m fine for routine jobs, but I’m afraid a high-profile murder case is too much.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Don’t look so mournful.” He chuckled. “I’m not going to drop dead yet, but I am in the midst of retiring. Still, if you need any help, you can come to me. Strictly in confidence. Henderson, Dawes and Henderson don’t have to know a thing about it.”

“Thanks. I just might take you up on that.” Somewhat to her surprise, she realized she meant it. It wasn’t in her nature to trust easily, but Leo Frost’s integrity seemed to shine through everything he said.

She walked out of his office smiling, and there was Trey, waiting for her. Her smile faded, and she went toward him with a sense of inevitability. Of course he would show up. Just as well. Before much more time passed, she was going to confront him about what he’d been holding back.

He stood, laying aside the well-thumbed magazine he’d been looking at.

She lifted her eyebrows. “A little late, aren’t you? I expected you to be lying in wait the minute I arrived in town.”

“I had…something else to do this morning.” His normally pleasant expression went somber, and she thought she saw pain in his eyes. Before she could react, the impression was gone. “How did your meeting with Leo go?” he asked.

“Fine.” She wanted to confront him, but she could hardly do that here, with Frost’s elderly secretary pretending to look through a file while she listened to every word. “He’s meeting me at the jail at one o’clock to talk with Thomas.”

“Good.” His tone was brisk, as if whatever bothered him had been swept away. “What are you going to do until then?”

“I have a reservation at Willow Brook Motel in Springville, since I’ll be staying until after the arraignment, probably longer. I may as well go check in.”

She caught an expression of distaste on his face. Was he really that bothered by her presence? “Something wrong?”

He shrugged. “Not if you like faux Pennsylvania Dutch tourist traps. You might be more comfortable at one of the local bed-and-breakfasts, or at the Springville Inn.”

Was that really all that was behind his reaction? She couldn’t trust anything he said, knowing he’d already lied to her once.

“I’ll be fine. After all, I’m here on business, not a vacation.”

They had reached the ground floor of the building, and Trey continued walking with her down the hall toward the parking lot in the rear where she’d left her car. They were alone, doors closed on both sides of them. This might be the best chance she’d have to confront him.

“Tell me something,” she said abruptly.

He halted, looking down at her with a quizzical expression. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you own the barn where Cherry Wilson was found dead?”

If she expected an explosion in return, she didn’t get it. Trey simply looked blank for a moment.

“Didn’t I?” He frowned. “Maybe I didn’t. I suppose I didn’t think it that important.”

“Not important that the murder happened in your barn? Do you really expect me to buy that?”

His face hardened at her tone. “I’m not sure what to expect from you, Counselor. But that happens to be the truth. And it’s not exactly ‘our’ barn. Our barn is the one behind our house.”

“But you own it. The police had to have questioned you about that.”

“They did.” He bit off the words. “I didn’t even realize the crime happened on a piece of land our corporation owns until they brought it up. I told them just what I’m telling you. The barn where Cherry was found is on an abandoned farm my father bought years ago, miles from our place. Anyone could have had access to it.”

“That person would have to know it was there, and that he could get in.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Meaning Thomas? That’s what the police think, I suppose. But almost anyone in the township might know as much. Country people are aware of things like that.”

“You said it was abandoned. Doesn’t anyone use it?” Her suspicions couldn’t be allayed that easily.

“No one, much of the time. A neighboring farmer sometimes uses it for storage, but I don’t think he has anything in it right now.”

“So you just let it sit there.”

“Believe it or not, we do. The land is too cut up to be good farmland, but eventually it may be ripe for development. Look, this is not really that unusual, no matter how it might seem to you. That land is one small parcel out of hundreds of acres Morgan Enterprises owns in the county. A large part of our business is involved in real estate. I don’t necessarily know the details of every parcel. Naturally I looked it up, once the police told me.”

“I see.” Did that make sense? She supposed so. It would be like expecting her father to know instantly the status of every investment in his portfolio, she’d guess. “Does your mother know?”

“I didn’t tell her. It would just make her feel more responsible.”

“She might easily find it out. It’s been in at least one of the newspaper reports.”

“If and when she does, I’ll deal with it.” He started walking. “Look, I’m not going to keep trying to convince you. Either you accept my word or not.”

She trailed after him to the door, fighting with herself. She wanted to believe him, and the strength of that feeling dismayed her. Trey hadn’t given her much of a reason to trust him.

He held the door for her, and she went through it without speaking. She took a few steps and stopped dead.

“My car…” It sank to the pavement, both tires flat on the side facing her. Anger flickered through her. She hurried to the car, circling it. Not just two. All four tires were flat.

Her breath caught. A knife stuck out of the front tire on the driver’s side, piercing a piece of paper.

Trey grasped her arm, the warmth and strength of his hand penetrating the sleeve of her jacket. “Wait. Let me take a look.”

She shook herself free, bending to read what was scrawled on the paper. Go back where you belong. The words were followed by an ugly obscenity.

She started to reach for it, but Trey caught her hand, holding it as firmly as he’d gripped her arm. A wave of warmth went through her. She wanted to lean on him, to rely on him. But she couldn’t, because he might be the very person responsible for this.

THE POLICE HAD COME, had taken statements and photographs, and gone again. Trey leaned against his truck, watching Jessica, who in turn watched the garage mechanic now circling her car, shaking his head and clucking softly.

Jessica had surprised him a little by her seeming reluctance to call the police at their discovery. He’d done it for her, and she hadn’t liked that, either. Face it, she wasn’t going to like anything he did.

He pushed himself away from the truck, feeling a little reluctance of his own. This situation was spinning rapidly out of control. Despite the ugly crowd at the jail, he hadn’t expected outright vandalism, and the sight of that knife sticking out of the tire had twisted his stomach.

Jessica had turned to him in her shock and distress-for about half a second. Then she’d pulled away, determined to stand on her own. An admirable quality, he supposed, but in this case…well, he wasn’t sure what he thought.

The destructive act had sickened him, but looking at it in a hardheaded way, it could get him what he wanted. It could make Jessica think twice about this case.

He approached, noticing the way her shoulders stiffened as he neared. “I’ll drive you to the jail. You’ll be late if you wait until they get the tires on.”

She gave him a wary look that seemed to put him at a distance. “It might be better if I stayed with my car. Apparently it’s not safe in your municipal lot.”

“Not ‘my’ lot,” he said mildly. “Hey, Tom.” He raised his voice. “How long is this going to take?”

Tom, owner of Tom’s Garage, shoved his ball cap back and scratched his head. “I got Tom Junior bringing the tires over now. Shouldn’t be more’n an hour, I’d say.” His round, mild face puckered into a frown. “Nasty business. Gives the town a bad name, somethin’ like that.”

“It does,” he agreed. That was the attitude he hoped for from folks around here. “I need to take Ms. Langdon over to the jail on King Street for a meeting. You mind dropping the car over there when you’re done?”

“Sure thing, Trey. No problem at all.” He settled his cap firmly on his head and nodded toward Jessica. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry. I’ll bring the keys in and leave ’em at the desk, okay?”

“Good.” He clapped Tom’s shoulder. “Thanks, Tom. You tell Tommy I said hi, too.”

“Will do.”

Trey raised an eyebrow at Jessica. “That all right with you?”

“I suppose so.” The words came out grudgingly. “I can get a cab…”

“My truck’s right here.” He took her arm. “By the time you wait for a cab, you’ll be even later.”

She pushed back her sleeve to glance at the gold bracelet watch that circled her wrist. Nice. And expensive. A gift, maybe, from a boyfriend or fiancé? She didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with someone.

“All right. Thanks.”

He opened the door for her. She climbed in, smoothing her skirt down over her knees. The skirt didn’t quite make it.

Removing his gaze with an effort, he rounded the truck, got in and started the engine. He shouldn’t be looking at her legs, much as they were worth a second glance. And he shouldn’t be wondering whether she had a man in her life. The only thing that should interest him at the moment was whether this unpleasantness might make her back off from the case.

They drove for a block in silence. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said finally. “I knew feelings were running high, but I never expected open vandalism. I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

“Is that really what you feel? Or were you thinking that this might be what it took to drive me off?” Her tone was sharp, and he could hardly blame her. Jessica seemed to have an uncanny ability to read his mind.

He took a deep breath and sought for a rational answer. It wouldn’t come.

“I suppose you’re thinking that I might have done it myself to get rid of you,” he said.

A glance at her face told him she’d been thinking exactly that. He clamped his lips shut on the angry words that wanted to pour out. He wasn’t sure whether he was angrier at her for thinking that of him or at himself for caring.

He took a deep breath and held it for a count of five. Ten would probably have been better.

“I’m not going to keep protesting my innocence to you. But you ought to see that this is the very thing I’m trying to protect my mother against. I’m not pleased it happened to you, but-” He stopped. That sentence wasn’t going anywhere good.

“But you’d rather it was me than your mother,” she finished for him. “All right, I get that.” She slanted a sideways glance at him. “And I’m willing to concede that you don’t seem the sort of person to stick knives into people’s tires.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why anyone wants to take their anger at the crime out on me. Surely they realize that Thomas has to have a defense attorney. If not me, it will be someone else.”

“I’m not sure the person who slashed your tires is capable of logical thought. Besides, you’re a Philadelphia lawyer.”

She looked at him blankly. “So?”

“You don’t know the expression?” He couldn’t help smiling. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Counselor, but out in country places, the term is used as a not-very-complimentary comparison. As in, ‘He’s as slick as a Philadelphia lawyer.’”

“Charming,” she said. “No, I didn’t know that. But our vandal might as well get one thing clear.” She turned toward him as he pulled up in front of the jail. “I’m not quitting this case. Not if I have to put new tires on my car every day of the week.”

“That could get expensive,” he said mildly, but he wasn’t deceived. Jessica didn’t just mean that for the vandal, whoever he might be. She meant it for him, as well.

He should be annoyed. He was. But he was also experiencing a certain sneaking admiration for Jessica Langdon. She might be a thorn in his side at the moment, but he had to admit that she had guts.

TRUE TO HIS WORD, Leo Frost was waiting for Jessica at the jail. She walked toward the spare, slightly stooping figure, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Thomas must be persuaded to talk to her. To give her something upon which she could build a case.

That was the important thing, not the vandalism to her car. And certainly not whatever random feelings and questioning doubts Trey had managed to raise.

“Mr. Frost.” She gripped his hand briefly. “Thanks again for coming.”

“No problem at all.” He nodded toward the desk. “I asked the officer to have Thomas brought down. We may as well go on into the interview room.”

Maybe he needed to sit down. Compunction hit her as she fell into step with him. “Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Not at all.” He held the door for her and then sank into one of the straight chairs with a sigh. Someone had brought an extra chair in, she noted, showing more consideration for Frost’s health than she had, it seemed.

“Mr. Frost, I do apologize…”

“It doesn’t matter in the least. And call me Leo, please. I can hang on to an illusion of youth as long as a pretty woman calls me by my first name.”

She smiled, making an effort to throw off the negative effects of the past hour. “Leo, then.”

Sharp eyes zeroed in on her face. “Something’s wrong. What is it? Something to do with the case?”

The concern in his voice cut through her reserve. She hadn’t intended to tell him, but the urge to accept that concern was too strong.

“While I was in your office, someone let the air out of my tires.” That wasn’t correct. “Actually, whoever it was slashed my tires. And left me a nasty little note.”

“That can’t be.” Leo’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

She stiffened. “I assure you, that’s what happened.”

“I’m so sorry. Jessica, I didn’t mean I thought you were lying. I’m just…” He shook his head, and she realized his face had lost whatever color it had. “I’m stunned. That’s so out of character for people around here. Or at least it used to be.”

His obvious distress touched her. She wanted to say something to ease the situation, but the door rattled. She turned toward it to see Thomas brought in…and to see the relief that flooded his face at the sight of Leo Frost.

The boy didn’t speak until the door closed behind the guards. Then he leaned across the table. “You came. Denke.”

“You’re welcome.” Leo gave him a reassuring smile. “I told you I’d come back. Are they treating you all right?”

A trace of anxiety touched the older man’s voice. Jessica understood. Thomas seemed ill-prepared to mix in with the general population of the jail.

“Ja.” He plucked at the front of the jumpsuit. “I would like to have my own clothes, but the other lawyer said that I could not.”

“Ms. Langdon is right about that.” Leo leaned toward the boy. “Thomas, I explained that you would have another lawyer to take care of you. You can trust Ms. Langdon. You have to tell her everything.”

Thomas’s glance touched her face and then slid away. “Ja. I understand.”

Jessica understood, too. Thomas would take Leo’s word for it, because he had faith in Leo.

“Good.” Leo started to rise. “I’ll leave you two together then.”

“Don’t go.” It was an anguished cry, and Thomas grasped the older man’s hand, earning a sharp rap on the glass from the guard outside.

“Thomas, Ms. Langdon is your attorney now. You need to talk to her.” Leo’s voice was deep with sympathy.

Thomas nodded, but he looked miserable. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of her, was it?

She managed a smile. “Leo, if you don’t mind staying…” She left it open, with a faint, apologetic thought for Henderson, Dawes and Henderson. Mr. Henderson would not approve.

Leo hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded and sat down, and the tension in the small room eased.

Jessica took a deep breath, feeling as if some barrier had been surmounted. Now, maybe, she could get to work on the case. She took a pad from her briefcase.

“Thomas, I…we…have to ask you some questions about what happened the night Cherry died. Just try to answer as fully as you can. Okay?”

He nodded, blue eyes filled with apprehension.

“All right, then.” She started with some easy questions-who had planned the party where he’d met Cherry that night, where was it, how had he learned about it.

Thomas answered readily enough, sometimes groping for a word. She reminded herself again that English, according to Trey, wasn’t his first language.

She made notes, sure that all this ground would have been gone over by the police. Still, they could have missed something, convinced as they were that their murderer had been lying there at the crime scene, waiting for them.

“You’re doing fine, Thomas. Now, I want you to write down the names of the people who were at that party.” She pushed the pad and pen over to him.

“They were mostly Englisch,” Thomas said, taking the pen. “I don’t know all the names.”

“Non-Amish, he means,” Leo said. “Just put down the names you remember.”

Thomas nodded, beginning to print on the yellow pad. Mostly first names, she realized. It would take some work to track down everyone who’d been at that party, and even when she did, what would they have to contribute? The crime hadn’t occurred there.

Leo was watching the movement of Thomas’s hand on the paper. When it stopped, he spoke. “Now the names of all the Amish at the party.”

Something that might have been rebellion tightened Thomas’s face. “I don’t-”

“We know you weren’t the only Amish there.” Leo’s voice had a note of command. “Names. Ms. Langdon won’t tell on them to their parents if she can help it.”

She opened her mouth to say that she probably would have to talk to parents, especially if any of the party crowd was underage. Then she shut it again. Thomas was writing down the names. Leo had the knack of dealing with the boy.

When Thomas finally pushed the pad back across to her, she felt a sense of satisfaction. At least it was a place to start. But now she had to ask the tough questions.

“When did you and Cherry leave that party?” she asked.

The whites of Thomas’s eyes showed. “I don’t know.”

“How did you get to the barn?”

“I don’t know.” His big hands clasped together.

“How can you not know?” Her voice sharpened. “Thomas, you have to be open with me if I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t know,” he said again, desperation in his voice. “I don’t remember.” He looked at Leo, unleashing a torrent of words in a language she didn’t understand.

Leo listened, then waved him to silence and turned to Jessica. “He says the last thing he remembers is being at the party, having a beer and talking to some English kids. Then it’s a blank until the police woke him up.”

Her heart sank. I don’t remember wasn’t a particularly good defense.

She wanted to ask if Leo believed him, but that was a question best left until they were alone. She put a few more questions to Thomas, not expecting much and not getting it. Ja, of course he knew the barn that the Morgan family owned. He hadn’t been there in a long time.

When the guards had taken Thomas back to his cell, she stared at the single sheet of yellow paper. Not much to show for the interview with her client.

She glanced at Leo. He looked a little better than he had earlier, as if getting his teeth into the case had been good for him.

“You understood the language…Amish, is it?”

“Pennsylvania Dutch. Or Pennsylvania German, if you wanted to be more accurate, which most people don’t.” He shrugged. “Plenty of old-timers like me understand. My parents spoke it when I was a child.”

“Your family was Amish?” She tried to get a grip on a situation that seemed to be slipping out of her hands.

“Not Amish, no. Of German-Swiss descent, like them. It’s not that unusual in this area. Even some of the younger folks understand. Trey, for instance. He’s quite fluent.”

Trey, again. She could do without having Trey Morgan shoved in her face every other minute.

“About the other kids who were at the party,” Leo said. “I don’t want to interfere-”

“If you know anything that will help, just tell me,” she said quickly. “I’m beginning to understand just how much a fish out of water I am in this case.”

“The English kids will probably be easy. Some of them may have already talked to the police. But the Amish are another story.”

“They won’t willingly get involved with the law.” Trey had said something like that, and Thomas had confirmed it.

“That’s right.” Leo looked relieved that she understood. “You’ll need an entrée-someone who knows them, if you’re going to get anything out of them.”

It went against the grain, but surely she was smart enough to know when she needed a hand. “If you’re willing to help, I’d be grateful.”

He nodded, smiling a little. “One last challenge before I retire. I’d like that.”

She smiled back. Maybe she hadn’t gotten what she’d hoped for from her client, but she began to feel she’d gained a friend. “Thanks, Leo.”

“I’ll do what I can. But you know who the kids might open up to more easily? Trey Morgan. You need to get him involved.”

Involved? She nodded, but her heart sank. It seemed to her that Trey Morgan was already involved far too much for her peace of mind.