John Lescroart - Nothing But The Truth

Finally, finally, after they got home, he and Erin and Ed succeeded in convincing the kids that Frannie was going to be OK. This was a funny glitch in the legal system, which they were always hearing Dad talk about anyway, right? This time it had just happened to their family.

Mom was sticking up for a friend of hers and Uncle Abe was there, working right across the way, taking care of her. And sure, she might be gone for a few days, but she was all right, in a really nice cell – ‘a country club,’ in fact. It was kind of like a vacation for Mom, and the Beck and Vincent got to stay with Grandma and Papa Ed for the weekend. It would be fun, an adventure. There wasn’t anything to worry about.

Hardy, alone on Friday evening, pacing his home front to back, was trying to come to some – any – conclusions and develop a plan. All he knew for sure was that he would go back and see Frannie again tonight, freshly armed with the news that Ron hadn’t simply gone fishing or something. If that had been the case, he would have told Mrs Wilson and there would have been no asterisk.

But he knew that this information wasn’t going to sway his wife. She would tell Hardy that of course Ron had had to disappear. Because of his children, he couldn’t let the law get involved with him. He would have had no choice.

And, fool that he was, Hardy had promised Frannie that he wouldn’t reveal what she had told him, whether or not he believed a word of it. Never mind that he’d lost his claim to attorney-client privilege; he realized that he’d done something that was potentially far more debilitating. He couldn’t talk to anybody about this – not Glitsky, Freeman, Moses, Erin, nobody. He shouldn’t ever have promised Frannie, but now that he had, if he wanted to keep faith with her, he was stuck.

The telephone jarred him from these thoughts. Sometime before he must have stopped pacing because he was sitting at his kitchen table, a cup of coffee untouched and cold in front of him. The light had changed as another afternoon’s load of fog had settled outside. He stood and picked up on the second ring.

‘It’s going to be on the five o’clock news.’ Freeman wasn’t much of a preamble kind of guy. He heard Hardy’s voice and he was talking. ‘I called a press conference and it must be a slow news day. Everybody came. You should have been here. This is where the action is. What are you doing home anyway?’

‘I’m picking out new curtains for the bedroom,’ he said. ‘What’s going to be on the news? Frannie?’

‘And Braun. And Randall. They loved it, they ate it up. I wouldn’t be surprised if it hit the national wires. If I were you, I’d expect some calls myself pretty soon. Play up the wife and mother torn from her family part.’

‘What other part is there?’

Freeman hesitated. ‘Well, there’s probably going to be some reporters with dirty minds, too. You might take this as a heads up, not blow off on them.’ Then, back to strategy. ‘I really think this might get to Pratt, persuade her to pull the rug out from Randall, and get him to reconsider. What do you hear about Bree’s husband?’

‘He left town.’ Hardy told him about checking at Merryvale. The kids being gone.

‘Do the cops know this?’

Hardy realized with a shock that they probably didn’t. He hadn’t thought to call Glitsky because the lieutenant had told him he wasn’t really interested in Ron Beaumont as a suspect. But Freeman was right. His running changed that. ‘I’ll call as soon as I get off with you.’

‘You ought to get to Frannie, too. She discovers that he’s really run, he looks like a murder suspect, she might want to change her mind about protecting him.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ he said, biting his tongue. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘Check the news first,’ Freeman said. ‘Starts in about five minutes, channel four.’

‘I’m on it. And David, thanks.’

Freeman laughed. ‘Are you kidding? This is what I live for.’

He thought the idea of calling Glitsky was a good one. Although his inspectors would be happy if they found a suspect other than Ron for the murder of Bree, the fact that Ron had apparently fled the jurisdiction would have an impact on Abe. He’d have to do something.

‘Why is that?’ the lieutenant asked, exasperation starting to leak out. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Find him, Abe. He looks a lot better for the murder now. You’ve got to admit that.’

‘Maybe a little better, but Scott Randall’s already out beating the bushes trying to find him. The feeling here is that it might be fun to watch him for a while.’

‘And meanwhile Frannie’s rotting.’

Hardy could hear the patient exhale over the telephone line. Another beat. ‘Have you made any progress with Judge Braun? Did Freeman?’

‘No.’

‘Well, then it looks like Frannie’s in for four days no matter what, doesn’t it?’

Hardy had no ready answer for this. It was the truth.

Glitsky went on, logical and detached. ‘Ron could walk in here tonight with a signed confession including everything Randall wanted from Frannie, and my understanding is that it wouldn’t make a hill of beans difference. Am I wrong?’

Hardy knew he wasn’t. Frannie was in jail on two, separate contempt charges. Even if she talked now, she would still have to complete paying her personal four-day debt to Marian Braun. And on the other hand, even if Braun rescinded that citation, Frannie would remain in jail on the secret until Scott Randall said she could go.

Hardy knew all this, although it wasn’t any solace. ‘Look, Abe, maybe I can still get Braun-’

‘ “Maybe” is the key word here. Look, Diz, I’ve pleaded with Pratt, I’ve tried to bully Randall, I’ve been over to see Frannie twice and make sure they’re taking care of her, which it seems like they are. I don’t like this any more than you do.’

‘I know, Abe. I’m not saying you’re not-’

‘But anything to do with Ron Beaumont isn’t the issue for the next three days. Your immediate problem is with Braun.’

‘But if you found Ron, put out a warrant, got other agencies looking…’

‘Then what? That’s going to happen when the grand jury reconvenes on Tuesday anyway. They’re going to indict him unless my guys find somebody else and then the whole world will be looking for him. So they’ll probably find him. But even then, if he’s a killer he’s not going to say anything. Then what’s Frannie going to do?’

‘I don’t know, Abe, I just don’t know.’

‘Lord.’ The cop voice softened. Abe clearly felt for him, was even trying to help on several fronts, but there just wasn’t anything he could do. ‘What do you think, Diz? She give you a hint what this is this all about? You got any ideas at all?’

He had to force the words. ‘Not a clue, Abe,’ he lied. ‘Not a damn clue.’

Fifteen minutes after the news ended, he had his coat on and was walking out the door when the telephone rang again. He was sure it was the beginning of the onslaught of the reporters, and was going to let his answering machine get it while he drove downtown. But then he remembered that it might be Erin or the kids, so he decided to monitor the call and stood listening at the hallway extension.

‘Hello?’ An unfamiliar voice, probably a reporter, and one who was good enough to have scored Hardy’s unlisted number. He sounded obviously disappointed that it hadn’t connected with his interview. Well, Hardy didn’t want to talk to reporters. He got to the front door, on his way out. The voice continued. ‘I’m trying to reach Dismas Hardy. My name is Ron Beaumont and I just saw the news report on-’

Hardy grabbed at the phone and said hello.