Pride v. Prejudice (16 page)

“But,” I said after I'd polished off the last bite, “if William Lund was out by the barn, why didn't he see whoever was cavorting by the river?”

“You said that you could see the second story of the house. He was at ground level and preoccupied with the animals. He didn't have a reason to walk across the blueberry field.”

“Well, he should have,” I said as I held out my glass. “Did Caron mention where she and Joel were going tonight?”

“No, just that she was spending the night at Inez's house. I was too concerned about you to demand details.”

“I'd better call her and let her know I'm okay.”

“I called her after you called me from the county jail. She said she'd see you in the morning. I hate to ask this, but are she and Inez up to something that might not be legal?”

“Double-dating is protected under the Geneva Convention,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Or the Treaty of Versailles. I often confuse the two.” I gazed at the stars for a minute. “What about Sarah?”

“The feds are still tracking down the paperwork. It's been forty years, back when vintage VW Bugs roamed the earth and there were no computers. And, of course, it's a holiday weekend. Her real name is Carol Ann Draper and John Cunningham's was Douglas Tucker. The antiwar protest took place at a liberal arts college in Southern California. I don't have any details. She was questioned all day and is currently at the county jail in a private cell.”

“Did Evan talk to her?”

“Tomorrow morning, if he can get past that insufferable dispatcher.”

I went inside and returned with a package of cookies I'd hidden in the back of the refrigerator. “Do you think she shot her husband?” I asked.

Peter sighed. “Her story is flimsy. I can understand why Sheriff Dorfer had her arrested. Had this happened in my jurisdiction, I would have done the same thing. I see three scenarios. One, she's a profoundly deep sleeper. Two, she shot him and went to bed. Three, she wasn't there at midnight.”

“So where was she?”

“How would I know?” he said. “Why don't you ask her in the morning?”

“Good idea, Sherlock.” I was too tired to think anymore, so I joined him on the chaise longue and let my head rest on his chest. “I'm still going to get the Weasel.”

*   *   *

I met Evan at his office and gave him a recap of the previous day's fruitless endeavors as we walked to the county jail. I was wearing a skirt, a jacket, and pantyhose, doing my best to look like a dedicated, altruistic lawyer. It was all for naught, since LaBelle was not at the front desk. A deputy escorted us to an interview room, and five minutes later brought in Sarah. After he had left, we looked at each other for a long time.

“Well?” Evan finally said.

Sarah winced. “I guess I omitted a few things. It all happened so long ago that I didn't think it mattered. I was a different person then, and so was Tuck. We were so confident that we were going to spread peace and love.”

“The dawning of the Age of Aquarius?” I said.

“Basically.”

Evan seemed bewildered. “What does astrology have to do with it?”

“I'll explain when you're older,” I said. I turned to Sarah. “What took place at this protest that brought the feds down on you like a pack of feral dogs?”

“There were about ten of us in the group, and we were earnest. We picketed the ROTC Department, handed out pamphlets, and drew peace signs on the sidewalks with chalk. Tuck stood on the front steps of the library and read the names of those who'd been killed in that senseless war. I wore flowers in my hair. One guy climbed a tree in front of the student union and announced that he wasn't coming down until the American troops were pulled out. We thought it was silly, but the frat boys showed up with golf clubs and baseball bats. The campus cops had to protect us all night while we sang ‘Blowin' in the Wind.' It would have been more impressive if we'd known all the lyrics.”

Evan was beyond bewilderment. “And that put you on the FBI's most-wanted list?”

“No,” Sarah said with a frown, “I was just giving you some background. A new guy, Roderick, joined our group. He'd been a student at Berkeley until he was expelled for vandalism, trespassing, and pissing off the president of the university. He came up with the idea of a protest at the student union on the day the military recruiters had reserved the ballroom. We chained and padlocked the front doors and then sat down and chanted, ‘Hell, no, we won't go.' The campus cops arrived, along with the local police. We were accused of holding the people inside hostage.” She chuckled. “There were three other doors into the ballroom.”

“But someone was killed,” Ethan said.

“The cops tried to drag us away from the door. Roderick threatened them with a knife. A cop pulled his gun. The students watching the show panicked. Another recent addition to our group, Abel, tackled Roderick. All of a sudden it was pandemonium, with people screaming and pushing each other. That's when Tuck grabbed my wrist and yanked me through the cafeteria and out to the street. We heard later that Roderick had wrested the gun from the campus cop and hell broke loose. The other cops took out their guns and started firing. Roderick was finally thrown to the floor and handcuffed. Abel was dead at the scene. Turned out he was an undercover FBI agent. Roderick was charged with murder, and the rest of us as co-conspirators and therefore equally guilty. Tuck and I fled to a commune in Oregon. Someone there knew how to establish false identities.”

I leaned forward, thinking it might be useful information if I disgraced myself in front of Peter's mother. “How?”

“It wasn't hard back then. We searched cemeteries until we found the headstones of children, ordered birth certificates from the state authority, and applied for Social Security numbers. I've been Sarah Swift longer than I was Carol Ann Draper. Poor Carol Ann would have bought the Brooklyn Bridge if anyone had offered her a deal. Well, the Golden Gate Bridge.”

Evan was staring at a legal pad. “Wessell told me that he'd received an anonymous tip concerning you and Cunningham. Do you have any idea who might have made the connection?” She shook her head.

“Did he say when he received the tip?” I asked Evan.

“He said something about it taking a long time to verify the information and deal with the FBI. I didn't pin him down because it didn't seem relevant. I have an appointment tomorrow with the head of the investigation. I don't think he'll tell me anything. The first thing I'll do Tuesday is file a motion for a continuance, but if Wessell was telling the truth, Judge Priestly will deny it.” He gazed at Sarah. “Have you reconsidered a plea bargain, assuming Wessell will go along?”

“I didn't kill Tuck,” she said coldly, “and I'm not changing my story. The feds may have a hard time finding witnesses to the shooting at the student union after all this time. No one can claim that I had anything to do with the violence. Tuck and I were outside when we heard the first shot.”

She might have been in denial, but I wasn't. I said, “What happened to the others in your group? Were they all arrested and sent to prison?”

“Roderick and six others were sentenced to twenty-five years to life for felony murder. Three others got away and went underground, too. Jamie and Justine showed up at the commune, put together false identities, and were last seen headed for Georgia in the back of a moving van. Laura vanished.”

“Did you keep in touch with any of them?” I asked.

“God, no. I didn't want to know where they were any more than I wanted them to know where Tuck and I were. That way, no one could use the knowledge to cut a deal with the feds.”

Evan made a note. “Is there anything else you forgot to mention? You know, minor stuff like armed robbery or grand theft auto.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I jaywalked once, but I got off with a scolding. What about you? Defended any pedophiles?”

“No, and this is my first murder trial. Unless you're completely candid with me, I'm going to lose it.”

“Candor has nothing to do with competency,” Sarah retorted angrily.

I intervened before the combatants in the sandbox began hurling plastic buckets and shovels at each other. “Calm down, damn it. Sarah, we need to figure out what Tuck did that day. Do you have any ideas?”

She sat back and sighed. “I told you that I didn't think he was having an affair, but he had been acting peculiar for several weeks. Once I saw him parked across the road when I got off work at the caf
é
. There were a lot of times when he got home fifteen minutes after I did. When I asked him what he'd been doing, he offered lame explanations.”

“Do you believe he was watching you?” I asked.

“It crossed my mind.”

“Because he thought you were having an affair?”

“It could have been paranoia,” she said. “His, not mine. He saw feds below every bridge and behind every tree. He was convinced he was under surveillance around the clock, and it was only a matter of time before they stormed the house with tear gas and automatic weapons.” She held up her palms. “I know that doesn't make much sense, but he could have decided that if they weren't following him, they were following me.”

Evan appeared to have regained his composure, but his face was still rosy. “We need to know what Tuck was up to that day. He made up the story about going on a fishing trip with the neighbor. Could it have been to give you a false sense of security?”

“To meet the feds or my lover?” she said. “I presumed the feds would have scooped us up if they knew where we were—and I didn't have a lover. I was relieved I didn't have to deal with Tuck that evening, that's all. If he was tailing me, he did a good job because I never noticed him. He may have been non compos mentis, but he was competent.”

Evan bristled. “And I'm not?”

Once again, I intervened. “Did Tuck ever mention the name of anyone he might have encountered outside of your circle? A clerk at the co-op, a vendor at the farmers' market?”

“I know he went to the library several times a week to use the computers. He was always coming up with obscure diseases and their symptoms, which he developed on the way home. His other obsession was organic farming. He could cite every banned substance more quickly than he could run through the alphabet. He joined online groups that pester organizations like the International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements and the National Organic Program Standards Office. He talked about getting certified as an inspector. He was a zealot.”

“The library is open this afternoon.” I said. “I'll swing by and see if anybody on the staff knew Tuck.”

Evan made a note on the legal pad. “I need to work on motions for a continuance and a change of venue. Neither will be granted, but we can use it on appeal.”

“Your confidence underwhelms me,” Sarah said. “Why bother to prepare for the trial? In fact, why bother to show up at all?”

“Because I'll be arrested for contempt unless I have a note from an emergency room doctor.” His face was redder, and I feared for the future of the pencil he held.

“Slug it out, kids,” I said as I stood up. “I'm going to church.”

*   *   *

As soon as I was in my car, I called Caron for the third or fourth time that morning. For the third or fourth time that morning, my call went to voice mail. I didn't bother to leave another message. A clock hovered over my head like the sword of Damocles, its alarm set for noon the next day. Telling myself that Caron and Inez were sleeping late to celebrate their success, I drove out to the church. The parking lot was crowded with equal numbers of cars, SUVs, and trucks. A hound growled at me from the bed of a pickup. I stared at it until it began to whimper.

I found a seat in the back pew and gave vague smiles to those who glanced at me. A tall, bony man stood on the platform, droning on about piety, which seemed to be within the grasp of those who tithed on a weekly basis and bequeathed a chunk of their estates to the church. I noticed a flat wooden bowl being passed down the row. Although my goal was less than pious, I found a dollar and dropped it in the bowl.

“In honor of Labor Day,” the man said, “our teen choir will present ‘Bringing in the Sheaves,' under the direction of our youth coordinator, Grady Nichols, and accompanied by Miss Norma Louise Ferncuff on the organ. Look upon their youthful faces with warmth and compassion, for they are the hope of the future.”

The teenagers filed in, followed by Grady. When he turned to acknowledge the congregation, I discovered the necessity of lowering my face to hunt through my purse for a tissue. I didn't expect to be moved to tears, based on his scathing remarks the previous day, but if he spotted me, he would be suspicious. Once the hope of the future began to sing, I glanced around for Tricia Yates. Unlike fictional sleuths, I was unable to recognize the back of her head.

The choir was doing its best, and I'd heard worse nasal atonality from the CDs Caron played in her room. An elderly woman seated next to me put her hand on my arm and whispered, “Aren't they wonderful?”

“Unbelievable,” I whispered back.

“That's my granddaughter at the end of the second row, in a blue sweater.”

I zeroed in on a girl with glasses and flaccid hair. I hadn't noticed her at the rehearsal, and wouldn't have as she sang if her devoted grandmother had not prompted me. “A lovely girl. What's her name?”

“Mariah. I was disappointed when her parents didn't name her after me. I was named after my grandmother, and I named my daughter after her grandmother, Jessabel. My name is Loybeth.”

The woman in the pew in front of us turned around with a menacing glare. “Hush up, Lobbie!”

I resisted the temptation to inquire about her hobby and looked down. I had a name, which was a start. The choir was bringing in the last of the sheaves with enthusiasm, which meant they would soon depart the platform. I patted Lobbie on the shoulder, smiled, and made my way to the end of the pew without causing any overt damage. I slipped out the front door and went around to the back of the building. There was a small playground, with swings, a slide, a picnic table, and a teeter-totter. As I'd anticipated, the teenagers came out a back door, half of them lighting cigarettes. One upstanding young lad was draining a plastic flask while his friends badgered him to share. They pretty much froze when they saw me.