“What? Is she mad?”
“Not according to Angus. He said she appears to be razor sharp, in complete control of her faculties, and dead serious.”
Stacey gratefully lowered herself to the arm of the sofa and laid a narrow hand against the base of her neck. “How did Angus react?”
“You know Angus. Nothing gets him down. He seemed amused by the whole thing. Said there was nothing to worry about—that she couldn’t present any evidence to a gr
and jury because there isn’t any. Gooney Bud was the culprit.” The judge drew himself up. “And no one can question my ruling that the man was incompetent to stand trial.”
“I should say not,” Stacey said, rising to his defense. “You had no choice but to commit Gooney Bud to that hospital.”
“I reviewed his medical records every year, took depositions from the doctors who treated him. That facility isn’t a snake pit, you know. It’s one of the finest hospitals in the state.”
“Daddy, nobody is pointing a finger at you. Good Lord, all anybody has to do is review your record as judge. For more than thirty years, your reputation has remained unblemished.”
He ran his hand over his thinning hair. “I just hate for this to come up right now. Maybe I should retire early, not wait till my birthday next summer to step down.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Your Honor. You’ll stay on that bench until you’re ready to retire, and not a day before. No little upstart fresh out of law school is going to run you off.”
For all her starchy show of support, Stacey’s eyes revealed her anxiety. “Did Angus say how the girl… what she looks like? Does she resemble Celina?”
“Some.” The judge went to the front door and pulled it open. On his way out he regrettably mumbled over his shoulder, “Angus said she was prettier.”
Stacey sat woodenly on the arm of the sofa for a long time after the judge left, staring into space. She completely forgot about cleaning the noon meal dishes.
“Hello, Judge Wallace. My name is Alex Gaither. How do you do?”
Introductions were unnecessary. He had known who she was the minute he had stepped into the office outside his chambers. Mrs. Lipscomb, his secretary, had nodded toward a chair against the opposite wall. Turning, he saw a young woman—twenty-five, if his calculations were correct—sitting in the straight chair with all the poise and self-confidence of royalty. It was an air she had inherited from her mother.
He hadn’t had much personal interaction with Celina Gaither, but he knew all about her through Stacey. The girls had been classmates through eleven years of public schooling. Even whittling away Stacey’s typical adolescent jealousy, he’d still painted an unflattering picture of a girl who knew she was beautiful, well liked, and who held all the boys in the class in the palm of her hand, including the only two who really mattered, Junior Minton and Reede Lambert.
Too many times to count, Stacey’s heart had been broken because of Celina. For that reason alone the judge had despised her. And because this young woman was her daughter, he disliked her on sight.
“How do you do, Miss Gaither.”
Judge Wallace shook her proffered hand, but no longer than was necessary to serve propriety. He found it difficult to consider this fashionable woman his colleague. He preferred lawyers who wore white shirts and worsted wool, not chic, short-skirted suits and fur. Viable members of the bar should emanate the faint smell of cigar smoke and leather-bound tomes, not a delicate perfume.
“Has District Attorney Chastain briefed you on why I’m here?”
“Yes. This morning. But I heard from Angus last night.”
She tilted her head, as though to say that that information was interesting and worth storing away for future consideration. He could have kicked himself for volunteering it.
The truth was, he was rather dazzled. Angus Minton had been right. Alexandra Gaither was better looking than her mother.
When she moved her head, a shaft of sunlight coming through the window blinds set her dark hair afire. The collar of her fur coat brushed her cheek, giving her complexion a glow as fresh and delectable as ripe apricots. Stacey had a similar coat, but it turned her complexion the color of cold ashes.
“Could I have a moment with you in your chambers, Judge Wallace?” she asked politely.
Needlessly, he consulted his wristwatch. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. Actually, I just stopped by to pick up my messages. I’ve got an appointment out of the office for the rest of the afternoon.” Mrs. Lipscomb started with surprise, a dead giveaway that he was lying.
Alex pondered the toes of her shoes for a moment. “I hate to insist, but I must. This is very important, and I’m anxious to get the investigation underway as soon as possible. Before I can move forward, I need to verify some facts with you. It won’t take very long.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. “I’m certain your cooperation will be appreciated by my office in Austin.”
Judge Wallace wasn’t stupid; neither was Alex. She couldn’t very well pull rank on him, but she could make him look bad with the Travis County D.A., who hobnobbed with the powers that be in the capitol.
“Very well, please come in.” He shrugged off his overcoat, asked Mrs. Lipscomb to hold his calls, then followed Alex into his chambers. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”