A Man for All Seasons (6 page)

Jennings didn't confess or protest. His public defender attorney entered a plea of not guilty, evidence was presented, and Josie had to admit that she hadn't seen Dale during the time the murder was apparently committed. But she had been in Jennings's car on the way to the party, and she hadn't seen any blackjack, and she said so on the witness stand.

She also said that Bib Webb had a better motive for the old man's death than Dale, and that he'd argued with Henry Garner that same evening. But Webb spoke to the prosecutor privately during the lunch break and gave him an ace in the hole. When she was fifteen, Josie had slipped out of her parents' home to attend a wild party given by an older classmate. She'd ingested a drug and a senior at her school had tried to seduce her. She had been so frightened, she'd screamed and neighbors called the police. Her parents got an attorney and tried to have the boy prosecuted, but his attorney had the deposition of the emergency room physician on call the night of the incident—who testified that there had been no rape. The arresting officer, a former Jacobsville
police officer named Marc Brannon, had been instrumental in getting the boy acquitted of the charges.

Brannon had told Bib Webb's attorney this, and Webb had given it to the prosecution to use against Josette's defense of Jennings. Josette Langley, it seemed, had once made up a story about being raped. Ergo, how could anybody believe her version of events at the party, especially when she'd been drinking, too?

The sensationalism of the story was such that reporters went to Jacobsville to review the old rape case, and they printed it right alongside the Garner murder trial as a sidebar. Jennings was convicted and sent to prison. Josette was publicly disgraced for the second time, thanks to Brannon. For a woman who'd made only one real mistake in her young life, she'd paid for a lot of sins she hadn't committed. Consequently, she'd given up trying to live blamelessly, and these days she gave people hell. Her experience had made her strong.

But she still thought of Brannon with painful regret. He was the only man she'd ever loved. There had never been another man who could even come close to him in her mind. She sighed as she remembered the way they'd been together two years ago, inseparable, forever on the phone when they weren't exploring the city. He'd helped her study for tests that last year in college,
he'd taken her to Jacobsville to go riding on the ranch. When it all blew up in her face, she thought she might die of the pain. But she hadn't. The only problem was that Brannon was back in her life, and she was going to have to face those memories every day.

Well, if it was going to be rough on her, she was going to make sure it was equally rough on him. She thought about giving Marc Brannon hell, and she smiled. If any man ever deserved a setback, that strutting Texas Ranger did. She was going to prove that Dale Jennings never killed Henry Garner, and she was going to rub Brannon's nose in it so hard that he'd be smelling through his ears for the rest of his life!

Josette ran a gentle hand over Barnes's silky fur. “You know, if men were more like cats, we'd never have wars,” she murmured. “All you guys do is eat and sleep and sleep some more. And you don't drive trucks and wear muddy boots and cowboy hats.”

Barnes opened one green eye and meowed up at her.

She turned her attention back to the television set. “Too bad these writers never saw the inside of a courtroom,” she murmured as a defendant in the series grabbed a bailiff's gun and started shooting jurors. “If a defendant ever tried to disarm
our
bailiff in superior court, he'd have his fingers bitten off on the way!”

B
efore he got on his plane back to San Antonio, Marc stopped by Bib Webb's second home in Austin. The Webbs lived there except during holidays and weekends, when they were at Bib's San Antonio home.

Silvia beamed when the butler showed Marc to the living room, where they were sharing cocktails with three other couples. Blonde, beautiful and vivacious, she was a woman most men would covet. Marc liked her, but he found her a bit too aggressive and ruthless for his own taste. She was an asset to Bib, of course, who wasn't at all pushy or aggressive by nature.

“Marc, I didn't know you were in town!” she exclaimed.

“I'm doing some investigative work for Simon Hart,” he drawled with a grin. “You look prettier than ever,” he added, brushing his hard mouth against her blemishless cheek.

“And you always look like a male model, darling,” she purred. “What sort of investigative work?” she added coquettishly, hanging onto his arm with her free hand while she sipped a martini held in the other. “A murder.”

She paused with her eyes on her glass. “Anyone we know? I hope not!”

“Dale Jennings.”

There was a tiny tremor in the liquid of the crystal glass she was holding. She looked disconcerted. Probably, Brannon thought, her memories of Jennings were as uncomfortable as his own.

She gazed up at him, then quickly composed herself. “Dale Jennings!” She put a hand on her low-cut bodice. “Jennings. That terrible man…! Bib!” she called to her husband, drawing his attention. “Someone has killed that Jennings man in prison!” she exclaimed, turning all eyes toward her.

“Not in prison, Silvia,” Marc said easily.

Her perfect eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?”

“He broke out. Or, someone broke him out,” he replied carelessly as Silvia let go of his arm and moved to sit on the arm of the chair Bib was occupying.

“He killed Henry,” Bib recalled with cold eyes. “I'm not sorry he's dead!”

“How did he get out of prison?” Silvia persisted.

“I have no idea.” Marc refused the offer of a drink and was introduced to the people Bib was entertaining. He didn't know them, but he recognized the names. They were very wealthy people from Austin.

“Can you spend the night?” Bib asked Marc.

Marc shook his head. “I have to be in San Antonio tomorrow morning. I'm going to be working the Jennings case along with the detectives in San Antonio. Simon's sending a liaison investigator from his office out to help.”

“Why?” Silvia asked suddenly, wide-eyed. “Jennings was a nobody! Why should the Texas Rangers and the attorney general be involved?”

“He wasn't a nobody,” Bib reminded her quietly. “He killed Henry. And Henry Garner was a very prominent man.” He studied Marc. “There's something else about this, isn't there?”

Brannon nodded. “There may be some mob involvement. Specifically, Jake Marsh.”

“Marsh.” Bib ground his teeth together. “Well, that tears it. If he's implicated, it will really make headlines all over again, right?” he asked his friend with a grimace of distaste.

“It's already doing that,” Marc agreed, reading the undisguised worry in his friend's handsome face. Beside him, Silvia looked as if she'd been frozen in place. He knew she hated bad publicity. “Don't worry, Bib. It'll be a nine-day wonder. Nothing more,” he assured his friend.

“I hope so,” Bib said heavily. His eyes lowered and he toyed with a tiny piece of thread on a jacket button. “It brings back so many terrible memories.”

“Oh, that's all behind us now,” Silvia said at once, and smiled, but not with her eyes. She got to her feet abruptly, and a little clumsily. “Marc, you have a good trip back to San Antonio. And, you will let us know how it goes?”

“Certainly.” He was curious about why Silvia seemed so eager to get rid of him. “Bib, how about walking me out?”

“I'll come, too,” Silvia said at once, apologizing to their guests.

That was one of many things about Silvia that Marc didn't like: she hung on to Bib like ivy. The man couldn't get out of her sight. It had been like that since she was sixteen and seduced Bib into marriage, so that she could escape the unbearable poverty of her childhood. She never talked about it. Her father had fallen down a well and died just after the unexpected accidental death of her younger brother. Neither death had seemed to bother her much, although Marc was apparently the only one who'd noticed that, despite Silvia's tragic past, she was curiously impervious to grief.

“You haven't told us all of it,” Bib said when they were out on the porch. His pale blue eyes narrowed. “There's more, isn't there?”

Marc stuck his hands deep into his pockets. “The investigator Simon's sending out to coordinate efforts with the Bexar County District Attorney,” he began reluctantly. “You might remember her. Josette Langley.”

Silvia's face flushed. “That bitch!”

Bib looked weary. “Sil, it was a long time ago…”

“That woman accused you of being the murderer! Do you think I could ever forget? She'll stir up trouble, she'll make false accusations, she'll go to the media…!” Her voice rose, becoming shrill.

“Calm down,” Bib said quietly, looking her straight in the eyes. He put a gentle hand on her nape and smoothed it up and down. “Calm down. Take deep breaths. Come on, Sil.”

She did what Bib told her to. She still looked glassy-eyed, but she was quiet. Bib reached into a crystal bowl on the side table next to the open front door and produced a mint in a fancy wrapper. He placed it in her hands and waited while she unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. Candy calmed her in these odd outbursts. Once he'd thought she might be diabetic, but bloodwork disproved that theory. She refused to see a psychologist, despite his best efforts. She was violent in these rages, dangerously so. Once, she'd killed a favorite dog in one of them. In a way, Bib was glad they couldn't have children. She was too unpredictable.

Bib turned back to Marc, who was scowling worriedly. “Miss Langley was talking to Henry, before he was killed. She was a quiet woman, not the sort to enjoy a party. I couldn't understand why she was dating Dale in the first place. He did work for Henry, against my advice. He was in close with Jake Marsh in San Antonio. I had problems with a campaign worker who was in Marsh's pocket during the lieutenant governor's race.
I'm sure Marsh put Dale up to what he did,” he added bitterly.

“That was never proven,” Silvia said sweetly. “I always thought the man was working on his own. I'm sure he had no real connection to Marsh.”

“Then why was his body found near Marsh's nightclub?” Marc wondered aloud.

“Those sort of people can get killed anywhere,” Silvia said carelessly. “I wouldn't waste state money on an investigation like that. He was a nobody.”

Bib ignored her. “That campaign worker,” he told Brannon, persisting. “Jennings had recommended him, to work on my campaign for lieutenant governor. The man went behind my back and apparently dug up a scandal to force my opponent out of the race. I'm almost positive it was why he pulled out of the race at the last minute, but I never could prove it. I didn't like Jennings around Henry, and I said so that night at the party when Henry was killed. We argued.” He grimaced. “I hated parting from him on an argument. You know how Henry was,” he added with a wan smile. “He trusted people.”

“That's how you get killed in the modern world,” Silvia said with a high-pitched laugh. “You can't trust anybody these days.”

Bib continued to ignore her and stared at Marc. “How did Jennings die?”

“Single gunshot wound to the back of the skull.”

Bib's intake of breath was audible. “Dear God!”

“Oh, what does it matter how he died? He was a murderer,” Silvia said with regal nonchalance. “I don't feel sorry for him. Is that why the state attorney general's sticking his nose in, because it was execution-style?”

Marc didn't reply for an instant. “That, and because Marsh is involved in a lot of illegal activities. He's been trying to shut him down for years. Now we're involved in a high-profile murder. Everyone wants to make sure the investigation is done properly.”

“And Simon's letting that Langley woman mess it up. How stupid!” Silvia said.

“She has a degree in criminal justice, and she's worked for Simon for two years,” Marc said, defending her against his will.

“She's personally involved in this case. So are you. Neither of you should get involved.” She turned to Bib. “Call someone important and tell him to pull Marc and that woman off the case!”

That went right through Marc. “Do it,” he invited,
silver eyes glaring at her, “and I'll call a press conference myself and tell the world why I'm off the case.”

Silvia gasped. “Well! And I thought you were our friend!”

“I am your friend,” he returned curtly, looking at Bib, not at her. “But the law is the law. I won't have interference in a case this sensitive.”

Silvia glared at him. Her hand, holding the glass, shook. She slammed it down on the porch, shattering it. “You stupid idiot!” she raged at Bib. “You're such a wimp! You never do anything right!” She whirled and went back into the house with her eyes flashing. She muttered curses as she slammed the door furiously.

She wasn't quite normal, Marc thought, and not for the first time.

Bib just shook his head. “Seven years of that,” he murmured heavily. “She's a good politician's wife, and she loves television appearances and society bashes. But there are times when I wish I'd married someone less explosive. I'm afraid I fall far short of Silvia's expectations. She'd have left me long ago if I'd been poor or had a dull social life.”

“She loves you,” Marc said, although he wasn't convinced.

“She owns me,” Bib laughed hollowly. “Well, I'd
better go back inside and kiss a little more butt. They're potential contributors to my senate campaign.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Going to vote for me?”

“No,” Marc said, deadpan. “You're corrupt.”

Bib laughed with pure delight. “We're all corrupt,” he agreed. He studied the other man curiously. “This must be painful for you,” he added perceptively. “You and the Langley girl were an item back then.”

Marc didn't say a word.

Bib shrugged. “Okay. I'll let it drop. We'll be heading up to our place in San Antonio this weekend. Drop by for a drink if you have time.” He leaned closer. “Sil's going to Dallas to shop on Saturday morning. We can sneak down to the corner coffee shop and eat doughnuts while she's gone!”

“Won't she let you have them?” Marc asked, surprised.

Bib patted his flat stomach. “I have to have a nice, lean figure for the publicity shots,” he confided. “I can't have anything sweet if she's within smelling distance.” He shook his head. “Dear, dear, the things we give up for public office.”

“You're a good politician,” Marc replied. “You have a conscience. And a heart.”

“Liabilities, old friend, nothing but liabilities. I lack
the killer instinct in campaigns. Fortunately, Silvia has it. You have a safe trip back to San Antonio.”

“Sure. You take care, yourself,” he added quietly. “There may be more to this case than meets the eye. Do you have a bodyguard?”

He nodded. “T. M. Smith. He was army intelligence in Operation Desert Storm. He can deck most men in hand-to-hand, and he's a crack shot.”

“Keep him close. Just in case,” Marc added, and smiled to soften what sounded like an order.

Bib shook hands with him. “Do you ever miss the old days, when we hung around the record shop hoping to meet women?”

“I miss sleeping a whole night,” Marc said enigmatically, and grinned. “See you.”

He got into his black sports utility vehicle and drove away, the smile fading from his lips as he pulled out onto the highway. Silvia's attitude bothered him. She was a strong-willed woman, and most of the time she was an asset to Bib. But he couldn't help recalling her violent outburst when he mentioned that he was investigating Dale Jennings's murder—or that it had been Silvia's testimony that had resulted in Dale's conviction for Henry Garner's murder.

Marc had been so upset over Josette's accusation
about Webb and the revelation about the truth of her rape charges at the age of fifteen, that much of the murder trial had escaped his notice. He'd misjudged her and caused her untold misery and shame about that long-ago rape trial. Despite his anger at her allegations against Bib Webb, he'd been devastated at having misjudged her so badly. But any idea he'd had about apologizing had gone by the board. She'd looked at him in that courtroom at Jennings's trial as if she hated him. Probably she did. He'd just walked out on her, with no explanation at all.

Worse, he'd been more than a little in love with her just before the Jennings trial got underway. He hadn't been as angry about her allegations as he had been angry at himself, for being such a poor judge of character. He'd gone through the trial in a fog and, afterward, he'd left town, to spend two miserable years with the FBI.

Now he was home again and the whole damned mess was being resurrected. Josette had no time for him. He could see the contempt in her eyes when she looked at him, feel her anger. He didn't blame her. She had every right to consider him the enemy. She would do her best to put Bib Webb under investigation, and he
would do his best to stop her. After all that time, they were still on opposite sides.

He stopped at a traffic light and a passing glance at a young girl in a long, flowered dress reminded him of his last date with Josette. She'd just graduated from college and he'd been there, along with her parents, for the ceremony. That night, he'd taken her out to a very fancy restaurant. She'd worn a long black silk dress with exotic flowers hand-painted on the fabric. Her long blond hair had been in a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. She'd looked absolutely exquisite.