He took something out of his shirt pocket and tossed it onto his desk. The sterling-silver scalpel landed with a dull, metallic sound. It had oxidized, but was otherwise clean.
Alex recoiled from the sight of it. “Where’d you get that?”
“From the judge’s left hand.”
They exchanged a long stare. Finally, Reede said, “It was his instrument of self-abuse, kept in his desk drawer, a constant reminder that he was corruptible. Knowing how proud he was of his years on the bench, it’s no wonder he cashed in. He’d rather blow off the side of his head than watch his career be ruined.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“What do you expect me to say?”
“I expect you to ask me who bribed him? With what? Why?” Her tearful eyes dried instantly. “You already know, don’t you?”
He eased himself off the desk and stood up. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Alex.”
“So, you know that Angus got Judge Wallace to lock Gooney Bud away, presumably as Celina’s murderer, in exchange for Junior marrying Stacey.”
“Where does that leave you?” Planting his hands on his hips, he loomed above her. “It’s speculation. You can’t prove it. Neither of them would have been stupid enough to record a conversation to that effect, if one did take place. Nobody wrote anything down. There’s enough reasonable doubt there for downtown Dallas to fit into. A man’s dead, his reputation as a fine judge has been shot to hell, and you’ve still got nothing to base a murder rap on.”
He tapped his chest, his fingertips making angry stabs at his shirt. “I had to drive to the judge’s house and notify Stacey that her old man had emptied his head onto his desk because of your loosely based charges that would probably have been no-billed by the grand jury.”
He stopped and regained control of his temper. “Before I get really pissed off at you, I suggest we get out of here and go someplace where it’s safe.”
“Safe? For whom?”
“For you, dammit. Haven’t the repercussions of this sunk in yet? Pat Chastain’s near cardiac arrest. Greg Harper has already called three times today, wanting to know if you could possibly have had anything to do with this prominent and respected judge’s suicide. Stacey is incoherent with grief, but in her lucid moments, she’s cursing you to perdition.
“We’ve got Plummet and his army of crazies out there on the courthouse steps, carrying pickets that say this is just the beginning of the end. All this chaos is because of you and your half-baked murder case, Counselor.”
Alex felt as though her chest was going to cave in, but she fought back. “Was I supposed to let Wallace go free just because he was a really nice guy?”
“There are more subtle ways to handle delicate situations like that, Alex.”
“But, no one handled it at all!” she cried. “Is that your philosophy of the law, Sheriff Lambert? Some rules don’t apply to people? When a friend of yours crosses over, do you conveniently look the other way? Apparently so. Case in point—Nora Gail Burton and her whorehouse. Does that same exclusion from justice apply to you, as well?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to the door and opened it, saying curtly, “Let’s go.”
She stepped into the hallway with him; he steered her toward the rear elevator. “Pat loaned me his wife’s car,” she told him. “It’s parked out front.”
“I know. There’s a swarm of reporters camped right beside it, all of them eager to know the gory details of the judge’s suicide. I’m sneaking you out the back door.”
They left the building unseen. It was completely dark outside, and Alex wondered what time it was.
They were halfway between the building and the parking lot when a form disengaged itself from the shadows and blocked their path.
“Stacey,” Reede exclaimed softly. Subconsciously, his hand closed around the butt of his pistol, although he didn’t remove it from the holster.
“I thought I’d catch you trying to hide.”
Stacey’s eyes were fixed on Alex. The hatred in them made Alex want to cower against Reede for protection, but she maintained her proud stance. “Before you say anything, Stacey, I want you to know that I’m terribly sorry about your father.”
“Are you?”
“Very sorry.”
Stacey shivered, whether with cold or revulsion, Alex couldn’t tell. “You came here to ruin him. Instead of being sorry, you should feel very proud of yourself.”
“I had nothing to do with your father’s past mistakes.”