Diana Palmer - The Texas Ranger

That was one of many things about Silvia that Marc didn’t like: She hung onto Bib like ivy. The man couldn’t get out of her sight. It had been like that since she was sixteen and seduced Bib into marriage, so that she could escape the unbearable poverty of her childhood. She never talked about it. Her father had fallen down a well and died just after the unexpected accidental death of her younger brother. Neither death had seemed to bother her much, although Marc was apparently the only one who’d noticed that, despite Silvia’s tragic past, she was curiously impervious to grief.

“You haven’t told us all of it,” Bib said when they were out on the porch. His pale blue eyes narrowed. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Marc stuck his hands deep into his pockets. “The investigator Simon’s sending out to coordinate efforts with the Bexar County District Attorney,” he began reluctantly. “You might remember her. Josette Langley.”

Silvia’s face flushed. “That bitch!”

Bib looked weary. “Sil, it was a long time ago…”

“That woman accused you of being the murderer! Do you think I could ever forget? She’ll stir up trouble, she’ll make false accusations, she’ll go to the media…!” Her voice rose, becoming shrill.

“Calm down,” Bib said quietly, looking her straight in the eyes. He put a gentle hand on her nape and smoothed it up and down. “Calm down. Take deep breaths. Come on, Sil.”

She did what Bib told her to. She still looked glassy-eyed, but she was quiet. Bib reached into a crystal bowl on the side table next to the open front door and produced a mint in a fancy wrapper. He placed it in her hands and waited while she unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. Candy calmed her in these odd outbursts. Once he’d thought she might be diabetic, but bloodwork disproved that theory. She refused to see a psychologist, despite his best efforts. She was violent in these rages, dangerously so. Once, she’d killed a favorite dog in one of them. In a way, Bib was glad they couldn’t have children. She was too unpredictable.

Bib turned back to Marc, who was scowling worriedly. “Miss Langley was talking to Henry, before he was killed. She was a quiet woman, not the sort to enjoy a party. I couldn’t understand why she was dating Dale in the first place. He did work for Henry, against my advice. He was in close with Jake Marsh in San Antonio. I had problems with a campaign worker who was in Marsh’s pocket during the lieutenant governor’s race. I’m sure Marsh put Dale up to what he did,” he added bitterly.

“That was never proven,” Silvia said sweetly. “I always thought the man was working on his own. I’m sure he had no real connection to Marsh.”

“Then why was his body found near Marsh’s nightclub?” Marc wondered aloud.

“Those sort of people can get killed anywhere,” Silvia said carelessly. “I wouldn’t waste state money on an investigation like that. He was a nobody.”

Bib ignored her. “That campaign worker,” he told Brannon, persisting. “Jennings had recommended him, to work on my campaign for lieutenant governor. The man went behind my back and apparently dug up a scandal to force my opponent out of the race. I’m almost positive it was why he pulled out of the race at the last minute, but I never could prove it. I didn’t like Jennings around Henry, and I said so that night at the party when Henry was killed. We argued.” He grimaced. “I hated parting from him on an argument. You know how Henry was,” he added with a wan smile. “He trusted people.”

“That’s how you get killed in the modern world,” Silvia said with a high-pitched laugh. “You can’t trust anybody these days.”

Bib continued to ignore her and stared at Marc. “How did Jennings die?”

“Single gunshot wound to the back of the skull.”

Bib’s intake of breath was audible. “Dear God!”

“Oh, what does it matter how he died? He was a murderer,” Silvia said with regal nonchalance. “I don’t feel sorry for him. Is that why the state attorney general’s sticking his nose in, because it was execution-style?”

Marc didn’t reply for an instant. “That, and because Marsh is involved in a lot of illegal activities. He’s been trying to shut him down for years. Now we’re involved in a high-profile murder. Everyone wants to make sure the investigation is done properly.”

“And Simon’s letting that Langley woman mess it up. How stupid!” Silvia said.

“She has a degree in criminal justice, and she’s worked for Simon for two years,” Marc said, defending her against his will.

“She’s personally involved in this case. So are you. Neither of you should get involved.” She turned to Bib. “Call someone important and tell him to pull Marc and that woman off the case!”

That went right through Marc. “Do it,” he invited, silver eyes glaring at her, “and I’ll call a press conference myself and tell the world why I’m off the case.”

Silvia gasped. “Well! And I thought you were our friend!”

“I am your friend,” he returned curtly, looking at Bib, not at her. “But the law is the law. I won’t have interference in a case this sensitive.”

Silvia glared at him. Her hand, holding the glass, shook. She slammed it down on the porch, shattering it. “You stupid idiot!” she raged at Bib. “You’re such a wimp! You never do anything right!” She whirled and went back into the house with her eyes flashing. She muttered curses as she slammed the door furiously.

She wasn’t quite normal, Marc thought, and not for the first time.

Bib just shook his head. “Seven years of that,” he murmured heavily. “She’s a good politician’s wife, and she loves television appearances and society bashes. But there are times when I wish I’d married someone less explosive. I’m afraid I fall far short of Silvia’s expectations. She’d have left me long ago if I’d been poor or had a dull social life.”

“She loves you,” Marc said, although he wasn’t convinced.

“She owns me,” Bib laughed hollowly. “Well, I’d better go back inside and kiss a little more butt. They’re potential contributors to my senate campaign.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Going to vote for me?”

“No,” Marc said, deadpan. “You’re corrupt.”

Bib laughed with pure delight. “We’re all corrupt,” he agreed. He studied the other man curiously. “This must be painful for you,” he added perceptively. “You and the Langley girl were an item back then.”

Marc didn’t say a word.

Bib shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let it drop. We’ll be heading up to our place in San Antonio this weekend. Drop by for a drink if you have time.” He leaned closer. “Sil’s going to Dallas to shop on Saturday morning. We can sneak down to the corner coffee shop and eat doughnuts while she’s gone!”

“Won’t she let you have them?” Marc asked, surprised.

Bib patted his flat stomach. “I have to have a nice, lean figure for the publicity shots,” he confided. “I can’t have anything sweet if she’s within smelling distance.” He shook his head. “Dear, dear, the things we give up for public office.”

“You’re a good politician,” Marc replied. “You have a conscience. And a heart.”

“Liabilities, old friend, nothing but liabilities. I lack the killer instinct in campaigns. Fortunately, Silvia has it. You have a safe trip back to San Antonio.”

“Sure. You take care, yourself,” he added quietly. “There may be more to this case than meets the eye. Do you have a bodyguard?”

He nodded. “T. M. Smith. He was army intelligence in Operation Desert Storm. He can deck most men in hand-to-hand, and he’s a crack shot.”

“Keep him close. Just in case,” Marc added, and smiled to soften what sounded like an order.