Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“So he liked giving people money?”

She nodded. “But not for nothin’,” she said slowly. “No, not for nothin’. We had to do stuff for him.” She said in a small voice. “ To him.”

“Did your parents know about any of that?”

“They didn’t till that stuff about Janet came out in the trial. I had to testify. Like to kill my daddy. Then they didn’t even convict the bastard.”

“Because he had an alibi.”

She took another sip of beer and held it up. “You want some?”

“No thanks.”

“Right, he had an alibi.” She looked at him accusingly. “Your daddy’s wife gave it to him. She was with him the night Janet was killed. That’s what she said.”

“And if she was, that means someone else killed your sister. Any idea who that might have been?”

“I... I couldn’t say nothin’ ’bout that.”

“I didn’t ask you if you could . I asked if you had any ideas.” She didn’t answer him, and Robie waited a few moments before adding, “I know you want your sister’s killer to pay for what he did.”

“Of course I do!” she snapped.

“Have the police talked to you about it?”

“Not yet. But I guess they will. I guess they’re sort’a focusin’ on your daddy for killin’ Clancy. Police department ain’t that big, I reckon.”

“You have another sister, don’t you?”

“Emma. But she’s only thirteen. She don’t know nothin’.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“She don’t know nothin’, okay!”

He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay.”

Robie made a mental note to check out what Emma Chisum might actually know.

“I gotta go,” said Sara.

“Do you live close by? I guess that’s your bike back there, but I can give you a ride.”

“No thanks. It’s not that far.” She eyed him suspiciously. “And I don’t know you from Adam.”

“Well, I’ll let you get on.” He turned to leave but then said, “If you think of anything, you should tell Deputy Taggert. She’ll be able to help you.”

“I already done told you, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout nothin’.”

“Memories are a funny thing. Sometimes you know more than you think you do.”

He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote his phone number down on it. He passed it over to her. “Just in case.”

She took the paper and stuffed it in her pocket.

He walked back through the woods to his car and then waited until she passed by him on her bike before driving off.

Robie headed back to the Willows, showered, and changed his clothes. As he was heading downstairs Victoria came out of Tyler’s room, carrying the little boy. She was still wearing her robe.

“Are you heading out already?” she said in surprise. “It’s early yet.”

“I thought I’d get into town, have some coffee, and get over to the courthouse. I doubt there’ll be many seats left.” He studied her. “You decided whether to go or not?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, averting her gaze and taking the opportunity to rub a smudge of dirt off Tyler’s cheek. “Priscilla can make you some breakfast.”

“That’s okay. I’m good.”

He headed out to his car, got in, and started it up. He glanced at the house and saw Victoria and Tyler staring at him from an upstairs window and Priscilla doing the same from a lower one.

He drove into town, found a diner, sat at the counter where he had two cups of coffee and a bowl of buttery grits and a fat biscuit, and checked his messages. Nothing from Blue Man, but Robie had asked him to look into things only a few hours ago. And even Blue Man needed a little bit of time to work his magic.

He gazed around at the others in the diner. Every eye had ventured to him when he walked in, and most were still casting him furtive, curious glances. The folks were more diverse than Robie would have thought — whites, blacks, and a sprinkling of Latinos. Most were men. All but a handful of them were dressed in work clothes. Those in suits, Robie assumed, might have something to do over at the courthouse, or maybe labored in a bank or a medical practice.

He didn’t see Pete Clancy and his buddies, which was a good thing. They might bring a gun to the next fight and Robie had left his in the car, since he was going to the courthouse later.

One of the gents in a suit rose from a table in the back. Robie watched him in the mirror hung on the rear wall of the diner as he made his way slowly toward the counter. He was about five-ten and flabby, with his short, grayish-brown hair precisely parted and cemented down with hair spray. His suit was a three-piece seersucker with a bright red tie over his starched collared white shirt, which made it look like his chest had been slashed open. He stopped along the way to pat backs, shake hands, and chitchat with the other folks there. Not many looked happy to be pressing the flesh with the man.

When he came to a stop next to Robie and put a hand on his shoulder, Robie knew who it was. In fact he had known who it was from the man’s swaggering walk. It hadn’t changed since high school.

“Hello, Aubrey,” he said.

“Damn, Will, sight for sore eyes, man, sight for sooorrre eyes,” replied Aubrey Davis, his twangy speech so exaggerated that Robie felt sure the man was doing it in front of the locals simply to increase his potential vote count when he ran for Congress.

He sat on the stool next to Robie and unbuttoned his jacket. He flicked a finger at the waitress, and a few moments later a cup of black coffee was set in front of him.

“Thank you, darlin’,” said Davis before turning sideways on his stool and eyeing Robie.

“What the hell you been doin’ with yourself, Will?”

“This and that.”

“You got outta here right after high school, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

“Guess you know what I do for a livin’,” Davis said, not really trying to sound modest.

“I heard.”

“And I guess it’s no secret why you’re back here. Sad day for the Robie family. Sad day. I’ll be the first to say it.”

Robie sipped his coffee and stared straight ahead. “I guess that depends on how it turns out.”

“O’course, o’course. Justice will have its day and say, yes sir it will. Leastways while I’m the prosecutor for Cantrell, Mississippi.”

“Must be difficult for you to do this, I mean with a judge you’ve appeared in front of so many times. Hope you don’t feel conflicted .”

Davis smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a moment to light up an unfiltered Marlboro he pulled from a pack in his side pocket along with a metal lighter with the initials AD engraved on it. He blew smoke out of his nostrils and dropped his ash in the cup saucer. “Well, damn good thing I’ve always been able to see the big picture. Petty shit don’t influence me one bit. Now I take no pleasure in prosecutin’ your daddy, I’m sure you know that. But it is my job and I’ll carry my duty out faithfully.” He waved his hand at the other folks in the diner. “Hell, it’s what all these voters here who placed me in this honored position would expect.” He rapped his knuckles against the countertop. “And nothin’ less.”

“You going to let him out on bail?”

“Can’t get into that with you, o’course. But I’m a fair man, always have been.” He blew more smoke and tapped more ash. “You seen your daddy yet?”

Something in Davis’s voice told Robie that he knew his father had refused to see him at the jail.

“I’ll see him today.”

Davis’s shrill voice dropped an octave as though to evidence confidentiality. And sincere concern. “How’s your stepmomma holdin’ up? Heard you were stayin’ out there with her, and ain’t that fine. I’m sure your support is... appreciated.”