Best Kept Secrets (41 page)

' 'What happened?'' When Nora Gail got no answer, she repeated her question with noticeably more emphasis.

"They got in a scuffle," one of the prostitutes answered finally. '' Next thing we knew, the gun went off." She pointed down. A revolver was lying on the floor near the prone man's feet.

"What were they fighting over?" After a lengthy silence, one of the girls fearfully raised her hand.

"Go to my office and stay there." Nora Gail's tone was as brittle as cracking ice. It suggested that the girl should have known how to prevent an incident like this. "The rest of you get upstairs, and stay there until further notice."

No one argued. Nora Gail ran a tight ship. The young women flitted past Alex like a flock of butterflies. They were met on their way upstairs by several men stampeding down, pulling on their clothes as they ran. Without exception, they looked neither right nor left as they exited through the front door.

It was a farcical scene, but giggling over it was out of the question. Alex was mortified. She had been on the fringes of violence before, but reading about criminal action in a police report was different from experiencing it firsthand.

There was something very startling and real about the sight and scent of fresh, human blood.

Nora Gail gestured Peter, who had rejoined them, toward the bleeding man. He knelt beside him and pressed his fingers against the man's carotid artery. "He's alive."

Alex saw some of the starch go out of Nora Gail's posture.

She'd handled the situation with aplomb, but she wasn't made of stone. She had been more worried about the situation than she had let on.

Hearing the wail of a siren, Nora Gail turned toward the door and was on the threshold to greet Reede when he came barging in. "What happened, Nora Gail?"

"There was a dispute over one of the girls," she informed him. "A man's been shot, but he's alive."

' 'Where is he? The paramedics are--" Reede stopped short when he spotted Alex. At first he just gaped at her with patent disbelief; then, his face turned dark with rage. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Conducting my investigation."

"Investigation, my ass," he growled. "Get the hell out of here."

The wounded man moaned, drawing Reede's attention. "I suggest you tend to your own business, Sheriff Lambert,"

Alex said tartly.

He cursed as he knelt down beside the man. When he noticed the amount of blood, however, his concentration switched immediately from Alex to the victim. "How're you doing, cowboy?" The man moaned. "What's your name?"

His eyes fluttered open. He comprehended the question, but didn't seem able to answer. Reede gently moved aside his clothing until he found the source of the blood. The bullet had pierced his side at about waist level. "You'll live," he told him. "Just hang in there a few more minutes. An ambulance is on its way."

He came to his feet and walked toward the man still in the bouncers' custody. He was standing with his head bowed.

"What about you? Got a name?" Reede asked, jerking the man's chin up. "Well, howdy, Lewis," he drawled.

"Thought we'd seen the last of your miserable hide. Didn't take my warning seriously, did you? Can't tell you what a

pleasure it's gonna be to have you residing in my jail again."

"Go fuck yourself, Lambert," the man sneered insolently.

Reede hauled back his fist, then reached for the man's spine through about a foot and a half of abdominal tissue.

Lewis doubled at the waist, but only until Reede's fist connected with his chin, bringing it up with a powerful blow.

He was then lifted by the lapels of his jacket and shoved against the wall.

"You've got a big mouth, Lewis," Reede said calmly, barely winded by the exertion. "We'll see how smart you talk after a month or two in a place where the bad boys will make you eat their dicks for breakfast every morning."

The man whimpered helplessly. When Reede released him, he slid down the wall to form a pathetic heap on the floor.

Two deputies stepped into the room, gawking at their plush surroundings.

' 'He resisted arrest,'' Reede calmly said, pointing at Lewis, then curtly ordered him handcuffed, Mirandized, and booked

for attempted murder. He consulted with the paramedics who had come in behind the deputies and were dealing with the injured man.

"He's lost a lot of blood," one of them reported to Reede as he slid a needle into the victim's arm. "It's serious, but not critical."

Satisfied that everything was being handled properly, Reede's attention reverted to Alex. Taking her upper arm in a firm grip, he hauled her toward the door.

"Let me go."

"Unless Nora Gail hired you on, you've got no business here. Nora Gail, shut down for the night."

"This is Friday, Reede."

"Tough. Don't let anybody leave, either. Somebody'll be along soon to start the questioning."

He roughly shepherded Alex down the steps and into his Blazer, nearly cramming her into the seat before he slammed the door shut. He climbed in behind the wheel.

"My car is over there," she told him stubbornly. "I can drive myself back to town."

"I'll have one of the deputies pick it up later." He ground the key in the ignition. "What in God's name possessed you to come here?"

"I didn't know what it was until I arrived."

"Well, when you figured it out, why didn't you leave?"

"I wanted to talk to Nora Gail. She's a very old and dear friend of yours, I understand," she said with phony sweetness.

At the intersection with the highway, they met one of his patrol cars turning in. He signaled the deputy to stop and rolled down his window. "Give me your keys," he told Alex.

She passed them to him because he wasn't going to give her a choice, and because, in spite of her brave front, she was trembling.

Reede tossed her keys to the deputy and instructed him to have his partner drive Ms. Gaither's car to the Westerner Motel when they were finished with the preliminary investigation of the shooting. With that taken care of, he zoomed onto the highway.

"Don't you feel the least bit guilty?" Alex asked him.

"For what?"

"For turning a blind eye to a whorehouse operating in your county?"

"No."

She looked at him, completely flabbergasted. "Why not?

Because the madam is an old flame of yours?"

"Not entirely. Nora Gail's place keeps potential troublemakers concentrated in one spot. Her bouncers keep them in line."

"Today they didn't."

"Today was an exception. That scumbag is bad news no matter where he is."

"I should report you for police brutality."

"He had that coming, and then some. He got off on a technicality the last time he passed through our judicial system.

This time he'll spend a nice, long time in prison.

"And, by the way, they caught Lyle Turner in New Mexico.

He confessed to slitting Pasty's throat for screwing around with Ruby Faye. It had nothing whatsoever to do with you, so you can stop looking over your shoulder for bogeymen."

"Thanks for telling me." The news relieved her, but this latest development was still on her mind. "Don't try to get me off the subject. I'm not going to sweep this under the carpet. Pat Chastain would love to know that there's a bordello operating right under his nose."

Reede laughed. He took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, and shook his head in dismay over her naivete.

"Have you ever met Mrs. Chastain?"

"What does that--"

"Have you?"

"No. I've talked to her on the telephone."

"She's a country club hag, tanned skin stretched over solid bone. She wears more gold jewelry than a pimp, even when she plays tennis. She thinks her shit don't stink. Got the picture? She likes being the D.A.'s wife, but doesn't like the D.A., particularly in bed."

"I'm not interested in--"

"Her idea of foreplay is, 'Hurry up, but don't mess up my hairdo,' and she would probably rather die than let him come in her mouth."

"You're disgusting."

"Pat's got a favorite out at Nora Gail's who'll swallow it and pretend to like it, so he's not going to lift a finger to shut the place down. If you were smart, which I'm beginning to seriously doubt, you won't embarrass him by letting on you even know that Nora Gail's place is out there. And don't even think about tattling to Judge Wallace. He never partakes, but all his friends do. He sure as hell isn't going to stop their party."

"My God, is everybody in this county corrupt?"

"Oh, for crissake, Alex, grow up. Everybody in the whole goddamn world is corrupt. You might be the only person who ever went through law school and came out believing that the law is still based on morality. Everybody's guilty of something. Everybody's got a secret. If you're lucky, the next guy's secret is juicier than yours. You use his secret to keep him quiet about yours."

"I'm glad you brought that up. It was Nora Gail you were with the night Celina was killed."

"Congratulations. You finally got one guess right."

"It wasn't a guess. Wanda Plummet told me."

He grinned. "When did you figure her out?"

"I didn't," she admitted with some reluctance. "I recognized her picture in the yearbook. You could have told me, Reede."

"I could have, but you'd have started pestering sooner."

"I didn't pester her. She was most cooperative."

"She was scared. You can't tell by looking at her now what a hell-raiser she used to be."

"I'd rather talk about her sister, Nora Gail. The night my mother was killed, were you with her all night?"

"Wouldn't you love to know?"

"What were you doing?"

"Three guesses, and the first two don't count."

"Making love?"

"Screwing."

"Where?"

"Her house."

"Nora Gail said you were in her car."

He whipped his Blazer around a farmer in a pickup truck.

"Maybe we were. Car, house, what's the difference? I don't remember."

"You had been to the ranch earlier."

"Yeah, so?"

"You ate dinner there."

"We've been over this already."

"This was a special night--Celina was there for dinner."

"Don't you remember talking about this?"

"I remember. You told me that you'd left before dessert because apple pie wasn't one of your favorites."

"Wrong. Cherry pie. It's still not one of my favorites."

"That's not why you left, Reede."

"No?" He risked taking his eyes off the road to glance at her.

"No. You left because you were afraid Junior was going to propose to Celina that night. You were even more afraid that she was going to accept."

He brought the truck to a jarring stop outside her motel room. He got out and came around to her door, almost jerking it off its hinges when he opened it. Grabbing her arm again, he pulled her to the ground and pushed her toward her door.

She resisted and turned to confront him.

"I'm right so far, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I went out with Nora Gail to blow off some steam.''

"Did it work?"

"No, so I sneaked back to the ranch and found Celina in the mares' barn. How the hell I knew she was going to be there is something you've yet to figure out, Counselor," he sneered.

"I look the scalpel out of my pocket. Why I'd taken it from the vet's bag when I could have strangled her with my bare hands is something else you'll have to muddle through.

While you're at it, think about where I'd hidden it when I took off all my clothes to screw Nora Gail, who would in all probability have noticed a scalpel.

"Anyway, I used the scalpel to stab Celina repeatedly.

Then, I just left her body there on the outside chance that Gooney Bud would come wandering by, see her, try to help her, and, in the process, get her blood all over himself."

"I think that's exactly how it was done."

"You're full of shit, and a grand jury will think so too."

He angrily gave her another shove toward her door. In a quavering voice, she said, "There's blood on your hands."

He looked down at them. "I've had blood on (hem before.''

"The night you murdered Celina?"

His eyes moved back to Alex's. His voice was raspy with menace when he lowered his face close to hers and said,

"No, the night she tried to abort you."

Thirty-five

Alex stared at him blankly for several seconds. Then, she attacked him. She went for his face with her nails, his shins with the toes of her shoes. He grunted in pain and surprise as she landed one solid kick against his kneecap.

"You liar! You're lying! Lying!" She took a swing at his head. He managed to dodge it.

"Stop it." He grabbed hold of her wrists to protect his face. She tried to wrest her hands free, while still kicking out with her feet and knees. "Alex, I'm not lying to you."

"You are! You bastard. I know you are. My mother wouldn't do that. She loved me. She did!"

She fought like a wildcat. Fury and adrenalin pumped through her system, endowing her with additional strength.

She was still no match for him. Holding her wrists together in his left hand, he shook her key out of her handbag and used it to open the door. They stumbled inside together. Reede kicked the door shut.

She bucked against him, shouting deprecations, trying to work her hands out of his grip, slinging her head from side to side like someone demented.

"Alex, stop this," he ordered fiercely.

"I hate you."

"I know, but I'm not lying."

"You are!" She twisted and turned and tried to stamp on his feet.

He forced her down on the bed, and secured her there with his own body. Keeping an iron grip on her wrists, he placed his other hand over her mouth. She tried to bite it, so he applied more pressure, making any motion of her jaw impossible unless she wanted to break the bones.

Her eyes were murderous as she glared at him over the back of his hand. Her breasts rose and fell dramatically with each breath. He hung his head above hers, his hair falling over his brow, gulping in draughts of air until he regained his breath.