Best Kept Secrets(146)
woman?"
Reede walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Forty
Stacey Wallace slid her father's half-eaten tuna salad out of
the way and replaced it with a bowl of fruit cocktail. ' 'I don't
think we'll have her to worry about much longer," she said
with assurance. The topic of conversation was Alexandra
Gaither. "Did you hear about her accident?"
"From what I understand, it wasn't an accident."
"All the more reason for her to want to leave town."
"Angus doesn't think she's going to leave," the judge said
as he toyed with the cherry floating in the viscous syrup. "He
says she's convinced somebody wanted to scare her into leaving
before she exposed the killer."
' 'Do you take everything Angus says as carved in granite?''
Stacey asked with exasperation. "How does he know what
she's going to do?"
"He's going by what she told Junior."
Stacey laid her fork aside. "Junior?"
"Hmm." Judge Wallace sipped his iced tea. "He sat with
her yesterday."
' 'I thought she left the hospital and was back at her motel.''
"Wherever she is, Junior's been her only contact with the
outside world." The judge was so caught up in his own
worries, he didn't notice Stacey's suddenly preoccupied gaze.
He pushed away from the table. "I'd better go or I'll be
late. We've got a jury selection this morning and a pretrial
hearing for that character who shot a man out at Nora Gail
Burton's the other night. I'm expecting a plea bargain, but
Lambert's got Pat Chastain pushing for attempted murder."
Stacey was only half listening. Her mind had lodged on a
mental picture of the beautiful Alex Gaither languishing on
her motel room bed while Junior waited on her hand and foot.
"By the way," the judge said as he pulled on his overcoat,
"did you get that message I left you yesterday?"
"To call Fergus Plummet?"
"Yes. Isn't he that evangelical preacher who raised Cain
because they had bingo at the Halloween carnival last year?
What'd he want with you?"
"He's canvassing support to keep pari-mutuel gambling
out of Purcell County."
The judge snickered. "Does he know he'd just as well try
and hold back our next dust storm?"
"That's what I told him when I returned his call," Stacey
said. "He knows I belong to several women's organizations and
wanted me to plead his case with them. I declined, of course."
Joe Wallace picked up his briefcase and opened the front
door. "Reede is convinced that Plummet was responsible for
that vandalism out at the Minton ranch, but he's got no evidence
to hold him." The judge didn't think twice about discussing
cases with Stacey. She had earned his confidence years ago.
"I don't think Plummet has the sense to pull off something
like that, not without somebody directing him. Reede has
been harping on it, but right now, Plummet is the least of my
worries."
Concerned, Stacey caught her father's arm. "What worries,
Dad? Alex Gaither? Don't worry about her. What harm could
she possibly do you?"
He faked a smile. "Absolutely none. You just know how I
like things neat and tidy. I've got to run. Goodbye."
Wanda Gail Burton Plummet happened to be sweeping off
her front porch when the postman arrived. He handed her the
stack of mail and she thanked him. She sorted through it as
she made her way back into the house. As usual, all the mail
was addressed to her husband. It was mostly bills and church-related
correspondence.
One envelope, however, was different from the others. It
was made of high-quality beige paper. There was an embossed
return address on it, but it had been exed out on a
typewriter, making it illegible. Their address had been typed
on, too.
Curiosity won out over her husband's strict instructions
that he was to open their mail. Wanda tore open the envelope.
It contained only a blank piece of paper, folded around five
one-hundred-dollar bills.
Wanda stared at the money as though it was a message
from an alien planet. Five hundred dollars was more than the
offering plate contained after a well-attended revival service.
Fergus only took out a pittance to support his family. Almost
everything collected went to the church and its "causes."
No doubt this money had been sent by a donor who wanted
to remain anonymous. For the last several days, Fergus had