“Hey, Stacey,” he said teasingly, “look what a mess I’ve made of you. You’ll have to spruce up, or the judge will know the mischief you’ve been into while he was at work today.”
He stood, readjusted his clothing, smoothed back his hair. “Besides, I’ve got work to do myself. If I stay a minute longer, I’ll cart you off to bed and waste the entire afternoon there. Not that it would be a waste, mind you.”
“Are you coming back?” she asked plaintively as she trailed him to the door, covering her nakedness as best she could.
“Of course.”
“When?”
He frowned, but concealed it from her by turning to open the front door. “I’m not sure. But after the other night and today, you don’t think I could stay away, do you?”
“Oh, Junior, I love you so much.”
He cupped her face and kissed her lips. “I love you, too.”
Stacey closed the door behind him. Mechanically, she headed upstairs, where she bathed her aching body in warm water and scented bubble bath. Tomorrow, she’d likely be black and blue. She would cherish each bruise.
Junior loved her! He had said so. Maybe after all this time, he was finally growing up. Maybe he had come to his senses, and realized what was good for him. Maybe, at long last, he had expunged Celina from his heart.
But then Stacey remembered Alex, and the calf eyes Junior had had for her at the Horse and Gun Club. She recalled how closely he’d held her while they twirled around the dance floor, laughing together. Stacey’s insides turned rancid with jealousy.
Just like her mother, Alex was what stood between her and total happiness with the man she loved.
Chapter 32
As soon as Reede and Alex arrived at the courthouse, they went into the interrogation room, followed by a court reporter. Fergus Plummet was seated at a square, wooden table. His head was bowed in prayer over an open Bible, his hands clasped tightly together.
Mrs. Plummet was there, too. Her head was also bowed, but when they came in, she jumped and looked up at them like a startled deer. As before, her face was void of makeup and her hair was drawn back into a severe knot on the back of her head. The clothes she wore were drab and shapeless.
“Hello, Mrs. Plummet,” Reede said politely.
“Hello, Sheriff.” If Alex hadn’t seen her lips moving, she wouldn’t have been certain the woman had spoken. She appeared to be scared out of her wits. Her fingers were knotted together in her lap. She was squeezing them so tightly, they had turned bluish-white.
“Are you okay?” Reede asked her in that same kind tone. She bobbed her head and glanced fearfully toward her husband, who was still fervently praying. “You’re entitled to have a lawyer present when I and Miss Gaither question you.”
Before Mrs. Plummet could offer a reply, Fergus concluded his prayer on a resounding, “Ah-men,” and raised his head. He fixed a fanatical stare on Reede. “We’ve got the best lawyer on our side. I will get my counsel from the Lord God, now and through eternity.”
“Fine,” Reede said drolly, “but I’m putting it on the record that you waived the right to have an attorney present during questioning.”
Plummet’s eyes snapped to Alex. “What is the harlot doing here? I’ll not have her in the presence of my sainted wife.”
“Neither you nor your sainted wife have anything to say about it. Sit down, Alex.”
At Reede’s directive, she lowered herself into the nearest chair. She was grateful for the chance to sit down. Fergus Plummet was a prejudiced, ill-informed fanatic. He should have cut a comic figure, but he gave her the creeps.
Reede straddled a chair backward and stared at the preacher across the table. He opened a file one of his deputies had prepared.
“What were you doing last Wednesday night?”
Plummet closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, as though he were listening to a secret voice. “I can answer that,” he told them when he opened his eyes seconds later. “I was conducting Wednesday-night services at my church. We prayed for the deliverance of this town, for the souls of those who would be corrupted, and for those individuals who, heedless of the Lord’s will, would corrupt the innocent.”
Reede affected nonchalance. “Please keep your answers simple. I don’t want this to take all afternoon. What time is prayer meeting?”
Plummet went through the listening act again. “Not relevant.”
“Sure it is,” Reede drawled. “I might want to attend sometime.”
That elicited a giggle from Mrs. Plummet. None of them was more surprised than she by her spontaneous outburst. Mortified, she looked at her husband, who glared at her in reproof.