“You’ve done enough homework, so you should know. The murder took place in a barn on Angus Minton’s ranch. Say his name anywhere in that county and the ground trembles. He’s a big enchilada. If there was an eyewitness, he wouldn’t testify against Minton because he’d be biting the hand that feeds him. Minton runs about a dozen enterprises in an area of the state where they’re gasping their last breath, economically speaking.
“Which brings us to another delicate area, in a case riddled with delicate areas.” Greg slurped his coffee and lit another cigarette. “The governor’s racing commission just gave Minton Enterprises the green light on building that horse-racing track in Purcell County.”
“I’m well aware of that. What bearing does it have?”
“You tell me.”
“None!” she shouted.
“Okay, I believe you. But if you start slinging accusations and casting aspersions on one of Texas’s favorite sons, how do you think that’s going to sit with the governor? He’s damn proud of his racing commission. He wants this pari-mutuel thing to get off the ground without a hitch. No controversy. No bad press. No shady deals. He wants everything above reproach and squeaky clean.
“So, if some smart-ass prosecutor starts shooting off her mouth, trying to connect somebody his hand-picked commission has given their coveted blessing to with a murder, the governor is going to be royally pissed off. And if said prosecutor works in this office, who do you think he’s going to be the most pissed off at? Moi.”
Alex didn’t argue with him. Inste
ad, she calmly said, “All right. I’ll resign from this office and do it on my own.”
“Jesus, you’re theatrical. You didn’t let me finish.” He pressed his intercom button and bellowed to his secretary to bring him more coffee. While she was carrying it in, he lit another cigarette.
“On the other hand,” he said around a gust of smoke, “I can’t stand that bastard who’s living in the governor’s mansion. I’ve made no secret of it, and it works both ways, though the sanctimonious sonofabitch won’t admit it. It would tickle me pissless to watch him squirm. Can you imagine him justifying why his commission picked, from the hordes of applicants, somebody associated with a murder?” He chuckled. “I get a hard-on just thinking about it.”
Alex found Greg’s motivation distasteful, but she was ecstatic that he was granting her permission. “So, I can reopen the case?”
“The case remains unsolved because Hicks was never brought to trial.” He lowered his feet, and his chair rocked forward jarringly. “I have to tell you, though—I’m doing this against my better judgment, and only because I trust your gut instincts. I like you, Alex. You proved yourself when you were interning here as a law student. Great ass aside, you’re good to have in our corner.”
He looked down at the material she’d compiled and fiddled with a corner of one folder. “I still think you’ve got a personal grudge against these guys, the town, whatever. I’m not saying it’s unjustified. It’s just not something you can build a case around. Without this shrink’s affidavit, I would have turned down your request. So, while you’re out there where the buffalo roam and the deer and antelope play, remember that my ass is in a sling, too.” He raised his eyes and stared at her balefully. “Don’t fuck up.”
“You mean, I can go to West Texas?”
“That’s where it happened, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but what about my caseload?”
“I’ll put interns on the preparations and ask for postponements. Meanwhile, I’ll talk to the D.A. in Purcell. We were in law school together. He’s perfect for what you’re trying to do. He’s not too bright, and he married above himself, so he’s always striving to please. I’ll ask him to give you whatever assistance you need.”
“Don’t be too specific. I don’t want them forewarned.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Greg,” she said earnestly.
“Not so fast,” he said, snuffing her enthusiasm. “If you trap yourself out there, I’ll disclaim you. The attorney general has made no secret that I’m his heir apparent. I want the job, and I’d like nothing better than to have a good-looking, smart broad as chief of one of my departments. That goes down good with the voters.” He pointed a nicotine-stained finger at her. “But if you fall on your ass now, I never knew you, kiddo. Got that?”
“You’re an unscrupulous son of a bitch.”
He grinned like a crocodile. “Even my mama didn’t like me much.”
“I’ll send you a postcard.” She turned to leave.
“Wait a minute. There’s something else. You’ve got thirty days.”
“What?”
“Thirty days to come up with something.”
“But—”
“That’s as long as I can spare you without the rest of the natives around here getting restless. That’s longer than your hunch and flimsy leads warrant. Take it or leave it.”