Best Kept Secrets(11)

moved to the window and stared out, sipping his coffee reflectively.

"Well, I'll be damned. Gooney Bud is dead."

"Gooney Bud?"

"That's what everybody called him. I don't think anybody

knew his last name until after Celina died and the newspapers

printed the story."

"He was retarded, I'm told."

The man at the window nodded. "Yeah, and he had a

speech impediment. You could barely understand him."

"Did he live with his parents?"

"His mother. She was half batty herself. She died years

ago, not too long after he was sent away."

He continued to stare through the open slats of the

blinds with his back to her. His silhouette was trim, broad-shouldered,

narrow-hipped. His jeans fit a little too well.

Alex berated herself for noticing.

"Gooney Bud pedaled all over town on one of those large



tricycles," he was saying. "You could hear him coming

blocks away. That thing clattered and clanged like a peddler's

wagon. It was covered with junk. He was a scavenger. Little

girls were warned to stay away from him. We boys made

fun of him, played pranks, things like that." He shook his

head sadly. "Shame."

"He died in a state mental institution, incarcerated for a

crime he didn't commit."

Her comment brought him around. "You've got nothing

to prove that he didn't."

"I'll find the proof."

"None exists."

"Are you so sure? Did you destroy the incriminating evidence

the morning you ostensibly found Celina's body?"

A deep crease formed between his heavy eyebrows.

"Haven't you got anything better to do? Don't you already

have a heavy enough caseload? Why did you start investigating

this in the first place?"

She gave him the same catchall reason she had given Greg

Harper. "Justice was not served. Buddy Hicks was innocent.

He took the blame for somebody else's crime."

"Me, Junior, or Angus?"

"Yes, one of the three of you."

"Who told you that?"

' 'Grandma Graham.''

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." He hooked one

thumb into a belt loop, his tanned fingers curling negligently

over his fly. "While she was telling you all this, did she

mention how jealous she was?"

"Grandma? Of whom?"

"Of us. Junior and me."

"She told me the two of you and Celina were like the three

musketeers."

"And she resented it. Did she tell you how she doted on

Celina?"

She hadn't had to. The modest house Alex had grown up

in had been a veritable shrine to her late mother. Noting her



frown, the sheriff answered his own question. "No, I can

see that Mrs. Graham failed to mention all that."

"You think I'm here on a personal vendetta."

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, I'm not," Alex said defensively. "I believe there

are enough holes in this case to warrant reinvestigation. So

does District Attorney Harper."

"That egomaniac?" he snorted contemptuously. "He'd

indict his own mother for selling it on street corners if it

would move him any closer to the attorney general's office."

Alex knew his comment was partially true. She tried another

tack. "When Mr. Chastain is better acquainted with the facts, he'll agree that there's been a gross miscarriage of

justice."

"Pat had never even heard of Celina until yesterday.

He's got his hands full chasing down wetbacks and drug

dealers."

"Do you blame me for wanting justice? If your mother

had been stabbed to death in a horse barn, wouldn't you do

everything possible to see that her killer was punished?"

"I don't know. My old lady split before I was old enough

to remember her."

Alex felt a pang of empathy for him that she knew she

couldn't afford. No wonder the pictures she'd seen of Reede

had been of a very intense lad with eyes much older than his

years. She'd never thought to ask her grandmother why he

looked so serious.

"This is an untenable situation, Mr. Lambert. You are a

suspect." She stood up and retrieved her purse. "Thank you

for the coffee. I'm sorry to have bothered you so early in the

morning. From now on, I'll have to rely on the local police

department for assistance."

"Wait a minute."

Alex, already making her way toward the door, stopped

and turned. "What?"

"There is no police department."

Dismayed by that piece of information, she watched as he



reached for his hat and coat. He stepped around her, pulled

open the door for her, then followed her out.