Dead Wrong (5 page)

People gathered in groups, depending on whether they worked in Judicial Support or Personnel, Children and Youth or Tax Claim, and shared office gossip and weekend plans. Jurists on lunch break chatted about anything other than the case they were hearing.

A mere ten feet from the hot dog stand, a criminal defense lawyer badgered an assistant district attorney over something that had happened the previous week in court and still apparently rankled. Three employees from the D.A.’s office pretended not to notice as they passed by on their way to the queue at Maury’s.

“That’s Mack Thompson,” Tina Gillette whispered to her companions as they approached the hot dog stand. “Sounds like he’s still pissed over the verdict on the Morrison case last week.”

“Thompson’s a whiner,” Mary Douglas responded before stepping up to place her order with the ever-cheerful Maury. An administrative assistant to several of the ADAs, Mary was familiar with many of the cases prosecuted by her office, including the one currently under discussion.

“My boss said Thompson takes loser cases that no one else wants and then whines all over town when he can’t win. Bruce had a case with him last year and really whooped his butt.” Joanie Fox spoke in a low voice.

“I heard about that,” Tina said as she tucked her change away and gathered up her lunch. “Want to see if we can find a bench?”

“Good luck.” Mary glanced around. There was not an empty seat in sight. “Why don’t we just stand over there near the steps? At least we’ll be in the sun for a while.”

“Fine with me.” Joanie nodded and fell in step with the others.

“Did you see the new ADA they hired?” Tina set her soda down near her feet in an effort to free up her hands so that she could unwrap her sandwich.

“Him or her?” Joanie asked.

“Her.” Tina rolled her eyes. “She has a face like a bat.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Mary choked on her bite of hot dog. “That’s really awful. Especially since she’s so nice.”

“Mary, you think everyone is nice. You even liked Annette Falcone, and we all know what a bitch she was,” Tina said, recalling an especially unpopular assistant prosecutor who had worked for the county until the previous fall, when she’d left for private practice. “She was the most miserable, demanding—”

“She really wasn’t,” Mary protested. “She was conscientious, and okay, maybe she was a bit of a perfectionist—”

Her friends hooted.

“Boy, is that a stretch,” Joanie laughed, and nudged Tina with her elbow. “We have to keep reminding ourselves that Mary takes that ‘If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all’ stuff to heart.”

“Yeah, well, wasn’t it Eleanor Roosevelt who said, ‘If you can’t say something nice, come sit next to me’?” Tina grinned.

“One of the Roosevelts said it, but it wasn’t Eleanor. So, what are you doing this weekend?” Mary changed the subject. “Either of you have plans?”

“Nada.” Tina shook her head. “The kids are going with their father. He’s picking them up right after school and I won’t see them until Sunday night. How ’bout you? You and Kevin have any plans?”

“Kevin is working night shift this weekend.” Mary made a face.

“What? I thought you liked it when Kevin worked nights. Didn’t you say that you liked having the house to yourself because it gave you a little time to read or watch a movie that you wanted to see?” asked Joanie.

“I did. But that was before . . .” Mary’s voice trailed away.

“Before what?”

“You’re going to laugh.” Mary’s eyes flicked back and forth between her companions.

“Maybe.” Tina smirked. “Tell us anyway.”

“Before the Mary Douglas murders,” Mary said quietly.

“Oh, I am
so
not laughing.” Tina grew solemn and shook her head. “Let me tell you, if a couple of women named Tina Gillette were found dead two weeks in a row, I’d be plenty freaked. God, I’d have myself locked away until they found him. I’d have an armed guard at my door and I’d—”

“Thanks. I no longer feel foolish,” Mary said grimly. “Now I feel terrified.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Me and my mouth . . .” Tina’s face reddened.

“Look, how late is Kevin working tonight?” Joanie pulled a cigarette from one pocket, then searched another for matches.

“He usually leaves right after dinner, around six-thirty or so, and gets home around three in the morning.”

“Would it make you feel better to have a little company? I’m not doing anything tonight. I could bring over a movie,” Joanie suggested.

Before Mary could answer, Tina chimed in, “We’ll make it a girls’ night. I’ll come, too. We can watch a movie, have a pizza break, watch another movie. . . .”

“That’s so nice of both of you. Are you sure there isn’t something else you’d rather do?”

“Oh, hell, what are friends for?” Tina glanced at her watch, noting that their lunch hour was just about over. “Joanie, why don’t we meet up for dinner at Hugo’s? We can grab a couple of movies at Chasen’s next door, then shoot on over to Mary’s.”

“Sounds great. What do you say, Mary? Girls’ night at your place?” Joanie took a few last short drags before stubbing out her cigarette. She picked up the butt and tossed it into the container at the foot of the courthouse steps.

“That would be great. More than great. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief and followed her friends back into the building, totally unaware that every move she’d made since she stepped outside forty minutes earlier had been watched oh so carefully.

As the wide glass doors closed behind Mary Douglas, the man seated on the bench diagonally across from where she’d been standing folded his newspaper, tucked the paper under his arm, and rose. Without a backward glance, he left the same way he’d come. He walked three blocks north to the side street where he’d parked his car earlier that morning after following Mary from her home to the courthouse, after which he’d walked to a local coffee shop, had a leisurely breakfast, bought a paper, and poked into a few of the shops on Main Street, just to kill a little time. Then he’d returned to the courthouse, found himself a nice bench with a clear view of the front steps, and waited. And then there she’d been, her courthouse ID pinned to the lapel of her jacket like a medal.

Employment confirmed.

Could there be any doubt that this Mary Douglas worked at the courthouse and was therefore
the
Mary Douglas involved in custody hearings? No doubt whatsoever in his mind. How many Mary Douglases could be working in there?

He’d watched her eat a hot dog and wash it down with a diet soda while she chatted with her friends. He’d momentarily lost her, early on, when she’d stepped behind the lunch truck, but he knew she’d appear again. There was only one way in or out of the courthouse, and he had a front row seat. She’d passed him twice, and he’d had ample opportunity to watch her as she walked by, ample opportunity to peer over the top of his paper with true appreciation and much anticipation at her long legs.

She was much younger, much prettier than the other two Marys.

The thought of her—of what was to come—had surged through him like an electrical charge. All the way back to his car, he fought an urge to whistle.

Just before ten on Saturday morning, Mara eased her car around the corner, searching in vain for a parking spot. As she passed by the front of the courthouse, she noted the line of news vans parked in front of the main walk. Every station in town appeared to be represented. Some reporters had already set up and were obviously preparing for live broadcasts.

Something pricked at the back of her neck. It was odd—more than odd—for there to be such activity on a Saturday.

She drove on to the next corner and made a left, hoping to find a place to park on one of the small side streets.

It was four minutes after ten a.m. when she finally found a place to park. Locking up her car, she started toward the courthouse on foot. She had an early meeting on a new case she had just inherited from one of the other attorneys in her department and she was mentally rehashing the information she’d gleaned. It was not unusual for her to come in over the weekend. What was unusual was for there to be more than a handful of people in the building with her. And never had she seen a crowd the likes of which was gathering near the front steps. Curious, she quickened her pace.

As she drew closer, Mara realized that she recognized almost everyone in the crowd as a county worker. And it was then that she realized that the majority of them were crying.

“What’s happened?” Mara touched the arm of a woman she knew from the sheriff’s department. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear?” The woman was openly sobbing.

“Hear what?”

“Mary Douglas—our Mary Douglas—she was . . . she was . . .” The woman could not get the words out.

“Oh, my God, no.” The blood drained from Mara’s face. “When?”

“Last night. Her husband was working night shift, so two of the girls from her office went over to stay with her. She was nervous, you know, because of the other Marys—” The woman hiccuped. “They were late getting there. They’d stopped to have dinner and things ran later than they’d planned, and when they got there, they found her . . . they found . . .”

Mara felt frozen where she stood, much as those around her were frozen with shock and with sorrow.

It would be several hours before it occurred to her to feel anything more personal than grief for the loss of an acquaintance.

Mara’s house phone was ringing as she unlocked her front door. She grabbed it on the third ring.

“It’s me, Annie. Why is your cell phone turned off?”

“I guess I forgot to charge the battery again.” Mara tossed her briefcase onto the sofa from eight feet away. “What’s the matter?”

“I just got off the phone with one of our agents who’s been assigned to work with your local police. She said there’s been another Mary Douglas killing.”

“I know. I just got in from the courthouse. This time it was the woman I told you about, the woman from the D.A.’s office.” Mara sat on the sofa and accepted welcoming kisses from Spike. “I can’t believe it. No one can. You can’t imagine what a nice person she is. Was. There’s just no rhyme or reason for anyone to want to hurt her.”

“The early word on the inside track says her husband had been playing around for the past year. He was supposed to have been at work last night but never showed up. They’re trying to find him but he hasn’t surfaced yet.”

“You think her husband may have done this?”

“You know the drill: You always look at the nearest and dearest first.”

“But that wouldn’t explain the other Mary Douglas killings.”

“Well, right now the favored theory is that he killed the other two to take suspicion away from himself. You know, make it look as if someone really did have a thing for women named Mary Douglas.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? Could anyone honestly believe that the police would go for that? That someone would be killing only women named Mary Douglas?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone pulled something like that. Stranger things have happened.” Annie paused. “But there is something I’m having checked out.”

“What something?”

“It may be nothing. Listen, I have a call coming in. I should be there in . . . well, it’ll depend on how long this call is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be here. I just picked up a new case, so I’ll be in all weekend.”

“Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Keep your doors locked. And don’t leave the house until I get there.”

“Spike needs to go out.”

“Make it quick.” Annie paused, then added, “And by the way, I’m bringing a friend with me.”

“Friend? What friend?” Mara asked before she realized that Annie had hung up.

She held the phone in her hand for a long minute.

She located Spike’s leash on the dining room floor, where he’d dragged it while she was out, and snapped the lead onto his collar. As promised, she locked the door behind her before taking the dog for a long walk around the neighborhood. The death of the latest Mary Douglas weighed heavily on her mind and in her heart. Mary had been well liked for good reason, and everyone who knew her was stunned. It was almost too terrible to be true. Every time Mara thought about that sweet young woman, she felt sick.