Paper Castles (18 page)

“I don’t know why that has to be brought up at trial,” Savannah said.

“Because they’re using it as motive. Price confronted you, threatened you...”

“Then I killed him.”

“Lucky for Mr. Vincent, he has an airtight alibi for that night.”

“And I’m glad about that, because I know Adam would never do anything violent. It kills me to know he was dragged in for questioning because of me.” She remembered telling him someone could get hurt, but neither one of them could’ve envisioned this scenario.

Phil was watching her closely. Taking notes without writing a single word. It made her feel uncomfortable.

“I’m going to need you to tell me everything about your affair.”

“I’d rather not call it an affair.”

“I’m not here to judge you. I’m not your father or your brother. Nothing you can say will shock me. I’ve heard it all.”

“So you’re also a priest?”

“No, far from it actually. But if you bare your soul to me, I just might be able to save it.”

The sound of his laughter rolled across the table between them, and the tape recorder and legal pads seemed a little less intimidating. Savannah felt herself relaxing.

Phil poured himself another cup of coffee and stirred the black brew with a spoon. “You’re right. It is a nice sound.”

“W
HAT ABOUT that earring found at the scene?” Phil was thumbing through stacks of papers.

“Another mystery.” Savannah’s shoulders drooped and she rolled her head to release the kink in her neck. They’d been talking for hours.

“According to the notes, the cleaning crew had been through your husband’s office from seven to eight in the evening. So the earring was left after eight o’clock.”

“But I wasn’t wearing those earrings that night. It was Valentine’s Day. I wore little gold heart earrings.”

“Any doubt it was your earring?”

“I didn’t see the actual evidence, but the earrings in question were custom-made. Price designed them. And there were pictures of me wearing them on New Year’s Eve.”

“I saw those. The police never found the mate to the earring, even during the search of your home. I don’t suppose you’ve found it?”

“Don’t I wish? I can’t find it. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

“You had no idea the earrings where missing?”

“No, as far as I knew they were tucked in my jewelry box, right where I left them after New Year’s Eve.”

Phil was tapping on his legal pad. “They have your earring left at the scene, your fingerprints on the murder weapon, and an eyewitness says he saw you leaving through the back of the building around midnight.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” The permanent knot in her stomach added another twist.

“I’d say they have a pretty good case. If you like circumstantial evidence.” His grin did nothing to alleviate the fear draped around Savannah’s shoulders like a heavy winter coat. The mountain of proof against her seemed insurmountable, with no way down. The map with the sole escape route was locked in some dark corner of her memory.

“Let’s talk about the gun.”

“That’s easy. I clearly remember Price bringing home that pearl-handled revolver. He was all excited about it.”

“When was that?”

“January second. I remember it was right after New Year’s Day. “

“So he brought it home to show you.”

“Well, not to show me, specifically. I walked in his office and he had it out. He was happy to show it off. I held it. Admired it. That’s all.”

“Good,” Phil said. “There’s the fingerprints.”

Savannah nodded. “I told him I didn’t want it in the house and he said he’d keep it at the office.”

Phil was writing notes next to notes. “That’s two pieces of evidence we can poke holes in. The eyewitness might be more challenging. Do you know anything about him?” He flipped pages back looking for the name. “Claude Irby?”

“I don’t know him, don’t recognize him name. Neither did Kip or Daddy.”

“I’ll see what we can dig up on him.”

Savannah stood up to stretch tired muscles as Phil scribbled frantic notes in the margins of a typewritten page.

“Can we take a break?” Savannah asked.

Phil looked up, blinked his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Oh sure. I could use a break, too.” He ran a hand through his hair then tossed his pen on the table, followed by his glasses.

“Let’s take a walk,” Savannah said.

Daisy, who had been lying protectively at Savannah’s feet, heard her cue and was heading for the door.

“Looks like someone’s ready,” Phil said.

“She’s always ready. I think she loves the beach more than I do.”

Sitting at the table for hours, reliving events and recounting every dirty detail had exhausted Savannah. The fresh ocean air was a stimulant. Her muscles lengthened as she took long strides down the beach. Phil wisely left his loafers behind and rolled up the pant legs on his khakis. They left their words behind at the house, and fell into a silent comfortable rhythm, toes squishing into wet sand and letting the sea set the pace.

Turning her face to the sun, Savannah stopped and closed her eyes. The sound of the surf rolled over her, loosening the tightness in her limbs.

Phil broke the silence. “This is a beautiful place.”

“It’s my favorite place in the world. If it were my choice, I’d live here. Whenever our family came for vacations, I could barely wait for the car to come to a stop before I jumped out and ran to the water.”

She stared down the stretch of beach as if she could see a ten-year old Savannah Kendall, brown legs sprinting down the sand, arms thrown wide when she reached the ocean’s edge.
Hello, old friend
. And the waves would roll up and kiss her ankles in their reply.

Welcome home.

They walked on in silence again. Phil’s hands in his pockets. He seemed to become a little less stiff the longer the waves chipped away at him. The ocean had a way of doing that to people.

“How about I interview you for a change?” Savannah asked.

Phil leaned down and picked up a shell, examining it thoughtfully before tossing it back in the water.

“I suppose you have every right,” he said. “Fire away.”

“I hear you’ve never lost a case.”

“That’s right.”

“Were any of your clients guilty?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.”

“Does that mean they weren’t guilty? Or you just chose to believe they weren’t?”

“A little bit of both, I guess. I’m in a great position in my career. Meaning, I’m not desperate. I get to pick and choose my clients. At this point, belief in the case and in my client is a prerequisite.”

“What if I’m guilty?”

Phil stopped and faced her, looking down, blue eyes narrowed in a serious expression. “Are you?”

She looked into his eyes, letting him see her without the armor of excuses, reasons or rationalizations. “I don’t know,” she said. “Can you imagine what it feels like?”

“No.” He broke their gaze, as if her pain was too much to hold. “I’m not going to lie. I can’t imagine what it’s like having all this evidence presented against you, and your only defense is a hole in your memory. It must be frightening.”

“More than you could know. It’s like I’m watching a movie of my life, but I don’t recognize the person playing me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“So…have you made up your mind yet?”

“About?”

“Whether or not you’ll take my case?”

“I have. I’d like to represent you, if you’ll have me. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Complete honesty. I won’t settle for anything less. We’ll have our work cut out for us. A lot of it will be painful for you. I dig at a case like an archeologist. You’d be surprised what you can find hiding below the surface. People don’t always like that.”

“I’m tired of hiding.” The truth came out unprompted. “I’m ready if you are.”

Phil held out his hand and Savannah shook it, sealing the deal. Her fingers rested in the strength of his handshake and her gray eyes lifted to a confident smile.

“You’re hired, Mr. Hannigan.”

S
TANDING AT Savannah’s front door, little beads of perspiration on the tip of her nose, Millie Kimble Taylor looked sheepish.

“I knew you wouldn’t see me if I tried to call first.”

Savannah hesitated before opening the door wider, inviting her old friend inside. “Come in. It’s a hundred degrees out there.”

Her annoyance buzzed around her like bees and she had to keep swatting at it as she ushered her friend through the living room to a comfy chair. She’d been a virtual recluse since being released from jail, ignoring phone calls from neighbors and friends. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone see them. Not even Millie, whose heart was in the right place.

Neenie brought tall glasses of sweet tea and Millie held the tumbler of icy goodness to her forehead.

“Lord, it’s so hot you could fry a frog on the sidewalk.”

Savannah grinned in spite of herself. “I think it’s supposed to be an egg.”

“No. On the way over here, I saw someone flipping a frog with a spatula.”

To the outward eye, they were two friends chatting over iced tea. One carried a straw purse, hat,and gloves. The other carried a murder charge.

“I won’t ask how you’ve been,” Millie said. “I just want you to know I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“Thanks, Mill.” Savannah took a deep breath, preparing herself for the questions she knew were coming.

“Your lawyer came to talk to me.” Millie’s tone was casual, as if she were saying Beverly had dropped by for a visit.

Savannah sat up straighter, on the edge of her chair. “Phil? What on earth for?”

“He wanted to talk about you. Our friendship, mostly. But he also wanted to talk about...that night.” She picked the words carefully, stepping through a minefield, her green eyes watching Savannah for any sign of detonation.

“I see.” Savannah followed exactly in Millie’s footsteps, between the mines.

“He had a whole list of questions. He’s certainly thorough.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Anyway,” Millie continued. “He wanted me to describe you. I felt like I was being given a psyche test or something, because he said, ‘Just throw out the first words that come to mind when you think of her.’”

“What words did you throw?”

“Athletic. Gorgeous. Loyal. Private.
Very
private.”

Savannah winced at
very.

“I told him the truth,” Millie said. “I said if one couldn’t be Savannah Palmerton, then the next best thing was to be near her. I told him you were Miss Everything, waiting for her crown. He liked that one. He has a great laugh.” Millie leaned forward then, reaching for Savannah’s hand.

“I also told him you could never do what they’re accusing you of.”

Savannah squeezed Millie’s hand. “I appreciate that.”

She felt bad for starting out this visit feeling resentful and put-upon when she should be grateful someone else was in her corner. Of course, once the evidence against Savannah was presented at trial, Millie might change her mind. Everyone might.

Savannah looked at Millie now. The neat summer dress, legs perfectly crossed at the ankles, all grown-up, ladylike composure. But Savannah knew underneath the straw hat, little Millie was dying to tell a secret. With good reason. Over the years, the two of them weathered skinned knees, boy troubles, college, and babies. They told each other everything and pinky-sweared to take all of it, or at least the less respectable bits, to the grave.

Savannah gave her an opening.” Did he ask you about the night of the Valentine’s dance?”

“I told him you and Price seemed very cozy at the start of the evening. But by the time you left, something seemed off. Price said you weren’t feeling well, but you seemed fine to me at dinner. When Phil asked my impression of Price I said the first word that popped into my head. Womanizer.”

“Was,” Savannah said quietly.
He was a lot of things. He was also alive.

“Of course, the D.A. interviewed everyone at the dance that night. All the same questions. Did we see the two of you fighting? Did we see anything at all? Some people said they saw you try to slap Price across the face.”