Shadow of Doubt (25 page)

S
tan was feeling weaker than ever when seven o'clock rolled around. His mother fussed around him as if he were a child. She had come close, at least twice, to calling everyone and canceling the meeting. But when he'd been adamant to the point of asking her to leave if she couldn't tolerate his actions, she'd settled down.

Now he sat with his feet up in the recliner in his living room, his head resting back on the chair. He'd had little appetite, though he'd forced himself to eat something, just so his mother would be satisfied.

When the doorbell rang, his mother answered. Jill breezed in. “Am I the first one here?”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “Jill, I wish you could talk him out of this. It's madness. He's not up to having people over…”

“Mother!” Stan snapped, and she decided to shut up and leave the room

Jill stood in front of him, looking down at him with concern. “Stan, how are you feeling?”

“I'm okay.”

“We really don't want you to wind up back in the hospital. We're so thankful that you've been able to come home.”

“I said I'm okay.”

His tone warned her to change the subject, so she set her briefcase down and took the seat next to him. “I went by a little while ago to see Celia.”

His tone changed. “You did?”

“Yeah. Her spirits were so much higher than the last time I saw her, thanks to your visit today.”

Stan's mother reappeared from the kitchen, a horrified look on her face. “Stan, you went to see Celia? In
jail?
Is that where you were?”

“That's right.”

“Stan, what were you thinking?”

“That I wanted to visit my wife.”

Thankfully, the doorbell rang again before Hannah could react, and flustered, she went to open it. Sid Ford walked in, followed by Vern and Chief Shoemaker. A few minutes later, Gus Taylor, the prosecutor, showed up.

“We're all here,” Sid said. “What you want to talk about?”

He invited them all to sit, then he dropped his footrest and forced himself to sit up straight. “The reason I called this meeting,” he said, “is that there are some things we all need to get to the bottom of.”

Trying to take the lead, Jim shifted in his seat. “Stan, I know that things are hard for you right now. It must be terrible to be told that your own wife may have been involved in your murder attempt. But you gotta know that we're doing everything we can.”

“No, you're not,” Stan said matter-of-factly. “I know absolutely that you aren't doing everything you can. The only thing you've managed to do so far is to torment my wife. There's still a killer out there, and nobody's doing a blasted thing to find him.”

“Stan, we've got a ton of evidence,” Gus said.

“Yeah, let's talk about that evidence,” Stan said, breathing hard. “Vern, that meeting you saw between Barnett and my wife. Tell us about it, why don't you?”

Vern looked uncomfortable. “Well, you know, I was followin' her like I was told. We were doin' it 'cause you asked us to.”

“Don't change the subject. Just answer the question.”

Vern looked offended. “Well, I didn't know I was in a courtroom.”

Stan's eyes drilled into him, waiting for him to answer.

“Just what I told you. I was followin' her, she went to visit Lee Barnett, and I took some pictures.”

“I want to see the rest of the pictures on that roll of film,” Stan said.

“I told him to bring 'em,” Sid said.

Vern pulled the pictures out of his pocket and shuffled through them. “There aren't any that are very helpful in the case. I don't know why—”

“Just give them to me,” Stan said. Jill got up and moved her chair closer to him as he flipped through them. It was all so clear, in context. He could see the fury on Celia's face now, the tears, the hands balled into fists. He could see her talking through her teeth in outrage. He could see the blurred arm as she slapped him…

“Vern, Sid…” He took a long breath and tried to steady his voice. “Why didn't you flash any of
these
pictures in my face when I was in the hospital? These pictures that would have shown that she didn't go there for some kind of romantic tête-à-tête.”

“I showed you what I considered evidence, Stan.”

Sid shook his head. “Man, I saw them pictures before. They don't mean nothin'. So they could have been havin' a fight.”

“Or she could have gone there for the very reason she said she did,” Stan said. “To pin Lee Barnett down about what he's doing in town and whether he tried to kill me. These pictures bear that out.”

“You don't find it the least bit suspicious that she went to him in the first place?” Gus asked.

“Stan, I know this is the last thing you want to believe,” Jim threw in. “I know it's as painful as all get-out. But you're not thinking clearly. You're sick, and you're hurt, and if you were back at work doing this same investigation on somebody else's attempted murder, I guarantee you you'd make the same assumptions they've made.”

“I wouldn't do the smorgasbord approach to collecting evidence,” he said. “Picking and choosing a little here…a little there…disregarding all the evidence that doesn't support my theory. That's shoddy police work, Jim, and you know it.”

The plump man got up, unable to stay seated. He rubbed his belly as if it burned and paced across the room. “Look, Stan, I've taken a personal interest in this case because it's you. You know I don't usually get involved in investigations. But somebody tried to kill a police officer, and I'll be cursed if I'm not gonna follow the most obvious trail, no matter who that leads us to.”

“I feel the same way,” Gus said.

Jill sprang to her feet, facing off with him. “What if the most obvious trail is just that—obvious—because someone wants it to be? Gus, what if the killer has some perverted reason for wanting to see Celia locked up for the rest of her life? I mean, he's done it once before already, but she got off. What if he's carefully laid a trail—the arsenic in the attic, the checks to Barnett, the letter from Celia.”

“And the letter left under my door today,” Stan added.

“What letter?” Sid asked.

Stan spoke up. “The letter that was signed Lee Barnett, only it wasn't his handwriting.”

“Maybe it was a for-real letter, man. Let me see it.”

“No,” Stan said. “Just think, Sid. You know Celia. Does she seem stupid to you?”

“No. I can't say she does. A little looney, maybe, in light of all this, but not stupid.”

“Then why would she do such stupid things? Why would Barnett?”

“Man, you don't wanna go there. Barnett's so stupid that he gets drunk at Joe's Place every night and spouts off at the mouth about everything in his head. Tried to pick Issie Mattreaux up last night. Everybody who was in Joe's Place is talkin' about it. That's how stupid he is.”

Stan didn't know how to counter that. If Lee Barnett could have proved to have some self-control, some savvy, some sense, maybe they would listen. But Barnett obviously wasn't helping any.

Jill looked down at him, as if waiting for a comeback, but he found himself without one. What now? Where did they go from here?

“Look, I have an idea,” Jill said, turning back to the others. “It's the best one I've been able to come up with to draw the real killer out, and if it's Celia, even prove that it's her.”

“Celia?” Stan shot back. “You're her lawyer. You're supposed to believe her!”

“I do,” she shouted over him. “Just listen. This will satisfy everybody. Those of us who think she's innocent will be able to identify the real killer, and those of you who think she's guilty will be able to prove she is if she is.”

“What?” Gus asked skeptically.

She sat down, and looked down at her feet, and Stan became aware that she wasn't at all sure of her idea. Still, she went on.

“It's kind of far-fetched, but just hear me out, okay?”

“Shoot,” Jim said. “We don't have to go for it.”

“No, you don't. Not unless you're serious about doing the right thing.” No one said anything in response, so she leaned forward and went on. “For the moment, let's assume that Celia is innocent, and that there's a killer out there trying to set her up for a second time. He can't act while Celia's in jail, right? I mean, if he attempts to kill Stan again while she's locked up, it's clear to everyone that she couldn't be the culprit. Am I right?”

The others in the room looked at her with dull eyes. “We're not letting her out, if that's what you're getting at,” Gus said.

“Just listen,” Jill went on. “On the flip side of that, if she were by some chance guilty—”

Stan groaned and shook his head.

“—then she still can't act until she's out. So either way, we'll never be able to be absolutely sure who the killer is as long as she's in jail. Now, I know that Celia has to stay in jail, that she's been denied bond. Believe me, I realize that. But there is one scenario in which she could be let out for a couple of days. If she had a death in the family, the judge would probably let her out for the funeral.”

“You gon' kill somebody in her family so she can get out for a day?” Sid asked.

Jill shot him a murderous look. “Right, Sid. I thought we'd just shoot her mother so we could get on with things. Give me a break.”

“Well, what else are you suggestin'?”

“I'm suggesting that we
stage
someone's death. Specifically, Aunt Aggie's. That we make it look like Aunt Aggie had a heart attack and died. Do the obituary, get a coffin, have a funeral, the works. The only people who would know about it are those of us in this room, Aunt Aggie, and the judge, who would have to agree because I couldn't lie to him.”

“Aunt Aggie's on Celia's side. She'd do anything to get Celia off.”

“That's because she's certain she's innocent. If I told her this would prove it, and draw out the killer, I guarantee you she'd go along with it. But just in case, you could post a guard to be with her twenty-four hours so she doesn't tip Celia off.”

“I don't get it,” Stan said. “How would this help?”

“If we could get her out of jail for one night, and make sure word got out, then it's possible the killer will try again. It would be his perfect opportunity to seal her fate. Or, if it's Celia, and she's dead set on killing Stan, as you seem to think—so desperate that she would have gone into his hospital room and changed his IV bag, knowing she'd get caught—then she'll try again. Either way, we win. When the killer strikes, you'll have people there waiting for him…or her.”

There was dead silence in the room as each of the men contemplated the idea. Finally, Sid spoke up. “What about Stan? How does he figure into all this?”

“We'd hide him,” she said. “Use a decoy. Put somebody in his bed, fill the house with guards. Tell people he's not well enough to attend the funeral. Celia still couldn't go near him because of the court order. Meanwhile, he would be safely hidden where no one could get to him.”

“So we're gonna scam the whole town?” Jim asked. “Make them all think Aunt Aggie died? The mayor'll have my hide. The fire department'll tar and feather us when they find out the truth. Not to mention how Aunt Aggie'll react.”

“Aunt Aggie loves Celia,” Stan said. “She'll do anything to help her. But I'm not so crazy about Celia having to grieve Aunt Aggie's death. She's had too much on her, and now there's the pregnancy. I don't want her to face any added stress.”

“Pregnancy?” Gus asked. “What do you mean—”

“My wife is pregnant!” he said. “And if you baboons weren't so intent on this witch hunt, you'd have noticed that she's throwing up constantly.”

Jim looked at Sid. “Did you know about this?”

Sid shrugged. “Not till this afternoon when I saw her barfin'.”

“She said something about it yesterday,” Vern said. “When I was dragging her out of his hospital room, but I figured she was just blowing smoke.”

“I just found out yesterday, myself,” Jill said. “She asked me to keep it to myself so the media wouldn't have a field day with it.”

“Why wouldn't she want the press to know, if it's Stan's baby?” Vern suggested. “I mean, if she has nothing to hide—”

“Vern?” Stan cut in.

“Yeah?”

“Why don't you shut up?”

Vern looked wounded.

Stan turned back to the others. “As I was saying…she'd grieve. Hard. I don't want her to have to go through that.”

“Celia will be all right,” Jill assured him. “Please, Stan. It's the only answer I can see, unless the killer does something on his own to convince these guys that it's not Celia. You got any better ideas?”

Stan didn't. He rubbed his eyes, wishing God would miraculously expose the criminal and relieve Celia of all of this. But maybe that wasn't how God intended to work.

“What do you say, guys?” she asked.

Jim looked from Gus to Sid. Gus nodded, and Sid shrugged. “Talk to the judge, Jill,” Gus said. “If Louis goes along with it, I will.”

“I'll talk to him tonight,” she said. “I'll go to his house.” She looked back at Stan, her eyes dancing. “I think this will work, Stan.”

Somehow, Stan thought the solution might just cause more problems.

J
udge Louis DeLacy paced across the brick floor of his country kitchen, his hands crammed into the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stared down at the brand new Nikes he wore, frowning as he listened to Jill's plan. He didn't react until she had finished.

Finally, he shoved up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and focused on her.

“I like Celia,” he said. “I've been sick about having to put her in jail. And with what you've told me about her pregnancy…” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I don't like having a pregnant woman in jail. It's a touchy situation. But I have to be objective, Jill, and I can't make special exceptions for people just because I know them or go to church with them.”

“Louis, I'm not asking you to make a special exception,” Jill said. “I'm asking you to do what you'd do for anybody who's in jail and has a death in the family. It's routine for you to give weekend passes for funerals.”

“I give weekend passes to those who have to go out of town to attend the funeral,” he said. “And it depends on the crime. I don't give them to people charged with attempted murder.”

“Celia is not a murderer, Louis. You know that. I'm just trying to prove it. Trust me. I won't let her out of my sight. And the cops aren't going to let her out of their sight, either. You know she can't do anything. But if we're lucky, we can prove whether she's innocent or guilty.”

He went to the coffee pot that had just finished perking and poured it into two cups. He handed one to Jill and sipped thoughtfully.

“I could let her out for the funeral,” he said, “but as for spending the night, I just don't think that's necessary.”

“None of it's necessary, since no one's really dead. That's the whole point! If she doesn't spend the night, then it's not likely that the killer is going to strike. If she's only out for a two-hour period…don't you see? He has to do something that can be blamed on her.”

“But what excuse can I give for letting her out overnight when the funeral is right here in town? There'll be an uproar.”

“Since when did you care more about what people think, than about justice?”

Louis shot her a look. “This isn't about justice. It's about a deception.”

“It's about a deception that
leads
to justice,” Jill said. “We're trying to make sure the real killer is found.” Abandoning her coffee, she got up and moved closer to him. She leaned on the counter next to him and lowered her voice for impact. “Louis, I believe with all my heart that Celia is innocent and that the killer is out there, waiting for another chance to set her up. Stan believes it, too, and it's his life that's at stake. Come on, Louis, please. If you've ever trusted me, if you've ever seen any wisdom at all in me, if you've ever believed that I have good instincts,
and you know I do,
please trust me on this.”

He puffed his cheeks and blew out his frustration. “So what day are you proposing to do this?”

Jill's heart leapt. Was he about to grant permission? “As soon as possible. We'd have to set it all up with Aunt Aggie, get everything in place. Maybe tomorrow?”

He thought for a moment longer, then breathed a laugh. “Aunt Aggie'll never go for it. Who would? Who would want to convince the whole town that they're dead when they aren't?”

“She'll get a kick out of it,” Jill said, her eyes dancing. “Come on. If she doesn't go for it, we won't do it. But I'll convince her.”

Louis grinned and turned back to the counter to shovel some sugar into his cup. “Somehow I think you could.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Then you'll agree to it?”

Again, silence passed as he considered it. “I guess so,” he said finally. “I don't know any other way to put an end to all this craziness. Let's just hope it works.”

After getting Louis's order for Celia's weekend pass, Jill headed for Aunt Aggie's house. David answered the door.

“Hi, David,” Jill said, walking into the house. “Is Aunt Aggie here?”

“Sure,” he said. “She just got back from the fire station.” He stuck his head in the kitchen and called for her, then turned back to Jill. “Any news?”

“No,” she said, as though disappointed. “None at all.”

“I saw Celia a couple of hours ago,” he said. “She seemed okay. Apparently Stan's on her side now.”

“Yeah, it really buoyed her spirits.”

Aunt Aggie rustled in wearing a hot pink wind suit. “Jill, come in. You got news?”

“No, Aunt Aggie. I'm afraid not.” She considered telling both of them about the plan, but somehow feared that David, the more practical of the two, might not go along with it. She couldn't take that chance. “Listen, I was just at Stan's a little while ago, and he would like to see you, if you have time.”

“Stan? Sure I got time,” Aunt Aggie said. “He wanna see me now? This late?”

Jill looked at her watch. She hadn't realized it was almost nine. “Now would be good, if you have some time. His sleep schedule's a little messed up. I figure we can humor him if you're not too tired.”

“Lemme get my purse.” She headed back into the kitchen, then reemerged quickly. “David, I won't be long.”

“So what he wanna talk to me about?” Aunt Aggie asked as they headed out to the car.

“About Celia,” Jill said.

Aunt Aggie got in and Jill went around to the other side. “Course about Celia,” the old woman said. “But what? Is somethin' happenin'?”

Jill pulled out of the driveway and looked over at the woman who waited so anxiously to hear what was going on. “Actually, Aunt Aggie, I lied to get you out of the house. We're not really going to see Stan. I had something I needed to discuss with you, and I didn't want to do it in front of David.”

“What you got to say to me you can't say in front of T-David?” Aunt Aggie asked.

“Oh, it's not David. It's just that I promised this would be very secretive. We have a plan, Aunt Aggie.”

“A plan?”

Jill pulled her car over to the side of the road and regarded the old woman. “Aunt Aggie, I've thought of a plan that will draw the real killer out and clear Celia. There's just one catch. I need your help.”

“You got it,” the old woman said. “I'll do anything it takes to find out who that killer is and clear my Celia.”

“I thought you would,” she said. “But it's a lot to ask. An awful lot.”

“I
said
I'd do anything.”

Jill braced herself. “You're gonna have to die.”

The look on the old woman's face would have been comical if they hadn't been dealing with such a serious subject. “Say what?”

“Not really die,” Jill clarified. “Just
pretend
to die.”

“I'm sorry, Jill, I ain't follerin' you.”

She tried to think of a better way to explain it. “Aunt Aggie, what we need to do is to pretend that you've died suddenly of a heart attack. All we have to do is tell key people at Joe's Place, the fire department, and the beauty shop, and the next thing we know it'll be all over town. We start making funeral arrangements, get a coffin—”

“Wait a minute!” Aunt Aggie shrieked. “You're scarin' me.”

“I know, Aunt Aggie,” Jill said, softening her voice. “I'm just trying to get to the good part.”

“Thank goodness you don't think
that's
the good part.”

Jill almost laughed. “Aunt Aggie, the judge is going to give Celia a pass for two days, one night. When she gets out, we're counting on the killer coming out and trying to make another attempt that Celia can be blamed for, at which point, we'll have plenty of police officers waiting to arrest him. The flip side is that
they
believe
Celia
did it. They figure that if she had any intention of killing Stan, she'd probably try it while she had the chance.”

“She didn't kill nobody!”

“I know that, Aunt Aggie. And the truth is, she'd be stupid to try the two days she's out of jail, but they're thinking she's crazy, anyway, and she might try. Anyway, I've convinced them to try this. It's the only answer.”

“Well, we ain't gon' tell Celia I'm dead, are we?”

“Yes, we are.”

“No! We can't do that. It'll break her heart. No, I won't let you tell her that.”

“Aunt Aggie, she has to believe she got a bona fide weekend pass or no one's gonna believe that she's really innocent. We have to let them think she has the opportunity to act, and if she's a murderer, she really will. What I know will happen is that the real killer will realize this is another opportunity to make it look like Celia did it, and he'll act. We'll be able to catch him, Aunt Aggie. Once and for all.”

Aunt Aggie thought about that for a moment. “So you say they gon' be a funeral?”

“Yes. The whole works. We have to make it look real.”

She sat staring out into the night for several moments. “I want to go to the funeral,” she said.

Jill frowned. “Aunt Aggie, you can't be there. It's your funeral.”

“I want to hide someplace and watch,” she said. “I always wondered what my funeral'd be like. Want to see it for myself.”

“Aunt Aggie, that's ridiculous. I don't think you want to be there and see Celia crying and the firemen grieving—”

Aunt Aggie's chin came up. “I ain't doin' it 'less I can be there.”

Jill gaped at her. “Aunt Aggie, are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack,” Aunt Aggie said. “That is what I'm gon' have, ain't it? A heart attack?”

Jill almost chuckled. “I guess.” She sighed. “Well, if you insist, I guess it's okay to have you there, provided we let Sid and Jim know. And you can't tell anyone, do you understand? Not even David. Not Celia's parents. Nobody. They have to all think you're dead.”

“When can I come back to life?” she asked.

“As soon as the two days are up, we'll announce to the world that Aunt Aggie's alive. It'll be like a resurrection. People will be so happy they'll be rejoicing in the street. The fire department will probably shut down in celebration.”

Aunt Aggie grinned. She liked that idea. “It will be a surprise, won't it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe people start 'preciatin' an old woman.”

“Without a doubt,” Jill said.

Aunt Aggie looked up at her with playful eyes. “Well, let's get to it,” she said. “My heart's startin' to feel a little weak.”

“Good, Aunt Aggie,” Jill said. “By this time tomorrow it should give completely out.”