Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(42)

Stephanie shook her head. “No! Please stay.”

Maggie would much rather be somewhere else, but she did as Stephanie asked and focused on the armature.

Jimmy planted his feet, but that didn’t keep him from swaying. “Ah, you know you’re glad to see me.”

Stephanie’s fingers stilled. “You’re drunk, and you’re not supposed to be here. If my parents come by, they’ll call the police. Now, leave.”

“No. We gotta talk. I wanna marry you.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small ring box. “I just picked this up.”

Maggie saw that tears rimmed Stephanie’s eyes as she focused on the horse’s leg.

“Well, I don’t want to marry you.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t keep your promises. Here it is, two in the afternoon, and you’re already soused. You can’t control yourself or your temper when you’re drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. Had a couple shots, that’s all. I’d never hurt you, Steph.”

She touched her cheek. “You already did.”

He dropped to his knees beside the table where she was working. “I didn’t mean to. I . . . I just saw you with that guy, and something snapped. I love you. You have to know that.”

He turned to Maggie, his gray eyes pleading for her help.

“Tell Steph I won’t hurt her.”

Goose bumps raised on Maggie’s arms. She didn’t like being a party to this. “Why don’t you go home and sober up? Then she might talk to you.”

“No. I want to talk now!”

Both women flinched as his voice boomed in the room.

“And I told you I don’t want to talk to you. We’re over with.” She splayed her hands. “Done. Finished. Understand?”

He reached for her, almost knocking the sculpture off the table. She shoved him away. “Get out of here until you get sober.”

“I’ll quit. I promise.”

“Yeah, right. I’ve heard that before. There’s no future with you. I told you I’m not spending my life wondering where you are, if you’re drunk and maybe driving.” She looked at the ring box in his hand. “How did you get to the jewelry store?”

He shrugged and looked toward the ceiling. “Not gonna tell you.”

“You drove. You could have killed somebody. Now go home, or I’ll call the police myself.”

He grabbed her wrist. “No. I’m not leaving. Not until you say you’ll marry me and take this ring.”

She jerked away from him and marched to the phone on the wall. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave.”

He lunged toward her. Maggie screamed as Stephanie stumbled, hitting her head on a worktable. Maggie froze, and then somehow Laura was in the room, shoving Jimmy away.

“Call 911,” Laura shouted.

The words galvanized Maggie, and she grabbed the phone. When the operator answered, she gave the house address and described what had happened.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Tears ran down Jimmy’s face. “I promise, I didn’t . . .”

“Well you did.” Maggie wet a cloth and knelt beside Laura. Stephanie was so pale. “I called 911, and an ambulance is on the way.”

“Good. She hit her head. Can you get some ice from the fridge?”

Stephanie’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Call them back and tell them not to come. I’m all right.” She tried to sit up and grabbed her head. “Where’s Jimmy?”

Laura sat back on her feet. “Sitting on the sofa, mumbling something about not meaning to hurt you. Now, lay still. And we’re not calling them back. I’m sure the police will come too.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that. He didn’t do it. I fell.”

Maggie stared at Stephanie. Why was she lying for him? “You didn’t fall. He shoved you down.”

To this day, Maggie didn’t understand why Stephanie kept insisting that she had stumbled over a block of clay. She turned to David. “When the police arrived, she held to that story. At that time I hadn’t dealt with anything like that and couldn’t make sense out of it. Later I realized she felt bad about breaking up with him and didn’t want to see him go to jail.”





14


ON THE STEPS OF THE CJC,Will checked to see if he had a message from the highway patrolman who had investigated Larry Ray Johnson’s accident, and he did. The patrolman could meet with him at one. He thought about calling David again but decided to wait until he knew more.

It was ten thirty, and the site of the accident was an hour and a half away. He’d be pushing it to stop and question Spencer Delaney, but with only three days until Jimmy’s execution, every minute counted right now. He dialed the number Laura had given him for her husband.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Delaney, this is Sergeant Will Kincade with the MPD. I spoke with your wife and she gave me your number.”

“Okay,” he said. “What do you want?”

Background noises indicated he was likely still at the coffee shop with Jared Donovan. “I’d like a few minutes of your time. Do you mind if I drop by the coffee shop? My questions won’t take long.”