Suspicion of Vengeance (2 page)

"Maybe."

He whispered,
"Caprichosa.
I think you don't love me anymore." His breath warmed her cheek. He spoke to her in Spanish. What he wanted to do to her.

Her skin burned.

Then his eyes were shifting toward the house, focusing on something past the passenger window.
"Cono.
It's your mother." He popped the trunk release, opened the door, and got out.

Gail felt like a teenager caught necking past her curfew. Irene Connor stood at the edge of the porch in a bright yellow sweater, arms crossed against the chill. She was a petite, pretty woman with curly red hair.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey. I was about to wonder if you'd been in an accident or something."

Gail opened the rear door. "Karen, we're home. Wake up." She tugged the beach towel away. "Come on, sweetie, get up."

Karen yawned widely as she stumbled toward the house, eyes half closed, a long-legged girl in shorts and big sneakers. She was making a show of it, and it occurred to Gail that Karen hadn't been asleep at all. She eavesdropped without remorse, spurred by a squeamish but ravenous curiosity about her mother's sex life. . Anthony walked behind them with a suitcase and beach bag.

Irene held the screen door. She was frowning. "Anthony, dear, do you have a couple of minutes? I need to talk to you."

"Is something wrong?" He looked down at her, concerned.

"I want to ask a favor for a friend of mine. Her name is Ruby Smith. Gail, you remember Ruby, don't you? When we used to go up to Sewall's Point? The older woman who baby-sat for you and Renee?"

"Of course I remember Ruby. Is she all right?"

"She needs to find a criminal lawyer. I'll tell you about it inside. Isn't it
cold
tonight?"

Anthony sent an inquisitive look Gail's way, and she shrugged. Irene's gray cat scooted through the door as they came into the foyer. The tabby watched from the sofa. Irene straightened Karen's sleep-tangled hair. "It's bedtime for somebody."

"Not yet, it's too early. Can I have something to eat?"

A look passed between Gail and her mother, and Gail turned Karen toward the hall. "Go on, sweetie. Bath and pajamas first, okay? Gramma needs to talk with Anthony for a little while."

With a dramatic sigh, Karen vanished toward her bedroom.

In the kitchen, Irene offered to make coffee. Anthony preferred plain soda, if she didn't mind, or he would be up half the night. When her mother turned away, Gail caught him looking at his watch. He made a quick, guilty smile and smoothed his hair back. It fell into deep waves at his collar. Gail's fair complexion required sunscreen and a hat; Anthony's skin glowed with a dark tan.

Irene filled the glasses. "Have you ever been to Sewall's Point?" When Anthony replied that he wasn't sure if he had heard of it, she said, "It's on the intracoastal waterway near Stuart, about a hundred miles north of here, the next county up from Palm Beach. My parents bought a vacation house after Daddy came back from the war. Ruby worked for us. Later on, Ed and I bought the house from my parents' estate, and we kept Ruby on. The girls adored her."

Gail's memory produced a snapshot of a short, round woman, a frizzy gray perm, and a muumuu with big patch pockets. Ruby Smith had carried a box of Red Hots in one of them, which she would tap out into their palms if they'd been good. Her accent was twangy Florida Cracker, and her lap could hold three children at once. Ruby had cleaned house and cared for Gail, her sister, and the assortment of cousins and friends who would drop by.

Her mother said, "After Ed passed away, I sold the house, but I'd go visit my sister Louise and her family. Her husband was Garlan Bryce. He's the sheriff of Martin County now. You might have heard the name? My niece, Jackie, is with the city of Stuart police department, following in her father's footsteps, you might say."

Anthony sipped his club soda, gamely trying to follow this torrent of information.

"Louise died in a car accident," Irene said. "She was thirty-six. Did Gail tell you?"

He let out a murmur of condolence and said that yes, Gail had mentioned it.

"Anyway, Ruby and I have kept in touch. She's eighty-one years old, and I haven't seen her since my sister's funeral, but we've written. She lives in a retirement home now, and her eyes are so bad she can't drive. Except for church she hardly goes anywhere. She is the dearest, sweetest thing."

"Mrs. Smith doesn't sound like a person who would need the advice of a criminal defense attorney," Anthony said. "What's the problem?"

"Her grandson. His name is Kenny Ray Clark. Eleven years ago, he was tried for murder and sentenced to death. Ruby believes he's innocent. She asked me to talk to you about it."

Anthony raised his brows. "I think he's past any help I could give him."

The memory slowly reassembled itself in Gail's mind. "Kenny Ray.... Right, I remember. Ruby brought him with her a couple of times. He was kind of tall and skinny? He didn't talk much. That was ages ago. Did you ever tell me about his arrest?"

"Yes, but you were away in law school," Irene said. "Want to hear what else Ruby said? She said Jesus spoke to her and told her Kenny Ray was innocent, and if he was going to be saved, it was up to her to find a way to do it." Irene looked from Gail to Anthony and back again.

Gail nodded, unable to think of an appropriate reply.

Anthony appeared to contemplate the ice cubes in his glass. "What did her grandson do? Allegedly. Who was the victim?"

"A young married woman. Someone broke into her house and stabbed her to death. The real tragedy is, her baby died, too. He was in his crib and choked on his milk. Just awful. They wanted to charge Kenny Ray with
two
murders, but the medical examiner said the baby's death was an accident. The husband came home from work and found his wife and child both dead. Of course the community was up in arms, and the police had to find someone to pin it on."

"They don't put a man away without evidence," Anthony said. "What did they have?"

"A neighbor picked Kenny Ray out of a lineup, but he had an alibi. He was across town when it happened. A man in jail with Kenny Ray said he confessed, but would you believe someone like that?"

"The jury did," Anthony said. "They believed the snitch, and they believed the eyewitness. Prosecutors love eyewitnesses. They're better than a fingerprint. Is the case still on appeal?"

"I don't know," Irene said. "Ruby told me the Supreme Court turned him down a few weeks ago."

"Which Supreme Court? Florida? United States?"

"The U.S. Supreme Court, I think. Why are you shaking your head? Is that bad?"

"He's running out of time. I don't know what issues could be left to litigate."

"Oh, this is
terrible."
Irene reached across the table. "Anthony, could you take the case? Don't worry about your fees. Ruby has some money saved up."

"Irene—"

"She said she would spend it all if she had to, every last dime, but she needs to find the right lawyer, someone experienced and tough and smart. I told her I'd trust you with my own life, if I had to."

"Irene, thank you for your confidence in me, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Gail leaned crossed arms on the table. "It would be exciting."

"Exciting?"

"To save an innocent man from execution. Don't you get bored with all those white-collar, federal bank fraud trials you've been doing lately?"

A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "I can't take Kenny Ray Clark's case because he already
has
a lawyer—a team of them. The state of Florida appoints capital appellate lawyers for everyone on death row, one of the few states that does. I'm surprised that Mrs. Smith didn't mention it."

"She did," Irene said. "She's just not satisfied with the job they've done so far. There he sits on death row, and she can't get anything out of them except 'We're working on it.' She wants to hire an expert."

"They
are
experts. They're dedicated professionals who do nothing but defend prisoners under sentence of death." Anthony spoke slowly, clearly, and Gail distinctly heard the creeping edge of impatience. "Ruby didn't hire them, and she can't fire them. They're her grandson's lawyers, and that is probably why they don't talk to her. Even if Kenny Ray hired a new lawyer, and it would be very expensive, how much could be done after eleven years of appeals that hasn't been done already?" Anthony waited for Irene to deduce the obvious. Kenny Ray Clark was out of luck.

Irene lowered her eyes. "I don't know what to tell Ruby."

When Anthony glanced at Gail, she shot him a look hard enough to make him sigh. He took Irene's hand in both of his and patted it gently. "Tell her you talked to me. Tell her I said that the best thing she can do is trust his lawyers, and not to look for someone to make miracles. They will do a good job for Kenny Ray—a better job than I could do. If there is any way to prove his innocence, they will find it."

"Do you think so?"

"Of course."

Leaning back in her chair, feeling distinctly let down, Gail noticed a movement at the crack under the kitchen door, a shifting of light, probably made by someone's feet. A cat. Or a creature equally as curious.

"Karen? Come in here."

The swinging door opened, and Karen walked through as if it were natural to have come the long way around instead of through the back hall from the bedrooms. She wore a long yellow sleep shirt and her hair was still damp. She kissed each of them in turn, such a perfect child, smelling of soap and shampoo. "I finished my bath."

Irene roused herself. "Sit down, precious. I'll bet you're starving. Let's see what I've got in the fridge."

Karen went to the cookie jar. "How do they execute people? In the electric chair?"

"You've been eavesdropping," Gail said. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't do that anymore."

"I wasn't. I heard you talking. I can't go around with my hands over my ears."

From across the kitchen, Irene said, "They inject something in his veins to make his heart stop beating."

"Like, stick a poison needle in his arm?"

"That's right."

"Mother, please."

"Do you prefer that I lie to her?" Irene shoved a casserole dish into the microwave and punched numbers on the keypad.

Anthony glanced at his watch and pretended surprise. "Ah. It's almost eleven o'clock. I should be going."

Karen asked, "They won't kill him if he's innocent, will they?"

"Damn good question," Irene said.

"They don't believe he is innocent." Anthony put a hand on Karen's shoulder. "He had a trial, and the jury found him guilty."

"For stabbing that woman." Too late, Karen realized her mistake, and glanced at Gail. "I heard you all the way in my room. You were pretty loud."

"I'll bet. We'll discuss this later."

Karen turned a bright smile on Anthony. "Thanks for taking me to the Keys. I had a really nice time."

"You are very welcome,
señorita"
He made a small bow. "Good night."

Gail and her mother walked with him to the front door, then onto the porch. Gail was still in her shorts, adequate for bright sunshine, too cold at this hour.

With an excited intake of breath, Irene grabbed his arm. "Anthony, do you suppose, before I call Ruby, you could speak to his lawyers? You know. Find out what's going on? What they plan to do next?"

"Yes, why not?" Gail said.

His quick glance meant only one thing: Stay out of this,
por favor.
He gave her mother a regretful smile. "No, I'm afraid I can't, Irene. Client confidentiality. Lawyers aren't allowed to discuss their cases, even as a favor for a client's grandmother." He bent to kiss her cheek. "Let me know what happens, will you? I wish I could have been of more help. It was good to see you, Irene. Next time, a happier occasion."

"I hope so."

When the front door had closed and they were alone, Gail said, "I can't believe the way you just brushed my mother off."

"I did not brush her off, Gail. I gave an honest, pragmatic opinion."

"All she wants is to help an old friend."

"I know that. I would like to be able to help, believe me."

"Really? You can't make one phone call?"

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because—as I just explained to Irene, if you were listening—they won't talk to me."

"They would if you got Kenny Ray's authorization."

"Oh.
Perdóname.
I didn't think of that." He fixed his dark eyes on her. "If Ruby Smith wants to know the status of his appeal, and she isn't getting information from his lawyers, she should ask her grandson."

"What a sucky attitude."

"I am sorry you think so.”

"How much time would it take, for God's sake? Ruby would pay you."

Anthony extended thumb and last finger, miming a telephone at his ear. " 'Oh, it's you, Mr. Quintana, big shot lawyer. You want to know if we are doing our jobs. Yes, we are, and screw you.' But maybe you're right. Maybe they would talk to me. 'Mr. Quintana, we are so sorry to tell you that our client just lost his last appeal, but we hope the next one will work. Maybe we can get him a few more years on death row.' Gail, all I would do is raise this woman's hopes, then have to explain why the jury found her grandson guilty on evidence too persuasive to ignore, and that the best she can do is pray. Maybe Jesus will speak to the appeals court."

Gail narrowed her eyes.

"Sweetheart. Please. She's an old woman who used to clean houses for a living. I won't take advantage of her." He gently squeezed her shoulders. "Don't be angry with me,
querida.
There are lawyers who would take her money and in the end, accomplish nothing. I'm not one of them."

Gail leaned against his chest. "This is so sad."

"I know." His arms went around her.

"It's got to be terrible for Ruby. Waiting for him to die. Believing in his innocence."

"Yes. It's very sad."

Gail knew that he didn't give a damn what happened to Kenny Ray Clark. He didn't care and didn't want to care. Anthony Quintana had not become successful by taking on lost causes, unless—as he had jokingly told her—the client had a big enough bank account or a big enough cause to make losing palatable. Anthony could demand monstrous fees for his services, but would not take a dime from people like Ruby Smith. Gail had to admire him for that.