never changes, does it?” She laughed. “But your low opinion of me doesn’t affect anything anymore. Basically,” she added with a pointed glance, “I don’t give a damn what you think of me. Go stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Brannon.”
Josette walked down the hall and he watched her go, infuriated that she wouldn’t admit the truth. Maybe her pride wouldn’t let her. He thought about her father, who was disgraced because of her rape trial, and her mother’s fatal stroke after the Jennings trial. He felt sorry for her parents, but there had been nothing he could do for them. He thought of their last date, and her ardent response until he was out of his head with desire, until he found her so intact that he had to stop. He’d really hated her for that, although the time that passed had made it harder to believe that she’d set him up. She’d been as involved as he was. Maybe even more. But no matter how hard he worked at it, he simply couldn’t forget that she’d tried to have his best friend arrested for Henry Garner’s murder. He turned back to the elevator and reluctantly pressed the down button again. He didn’t like leaving with unanswered questions between them. He wanted…He sighed. Maybe he just wanted to sit and look at her for a while. The sight of her opened old wounds, but it also made a warm place in his heart.
He turned from the elevator and went back down the hall.
Chapter Three
Simon Hart studied Josette quietly as she walked into his office and put the file folders down on his desk. She explained the information she’d gathered for the investigation.
“I know this may be painful for you,” he told her quietly. “Since you were dating Jennings two years ago.”
“We were friends, that’s all,” she assured him. “I’m sorry he was killed, and in such a way. I never thought he murdered Henry Garner in the first place.”
“You paid a high price trying to defend him,” Simon said solemnly.
“Yes, but I’d do it again. He was innocent. Someone framed him. The only thing that puzzles me is why he didn’t try harder to fight the conviction. It was as if he just gave up the minute he got in the courtroom,” she recalled pensively.
“Did you see Marc Brannon on your way in here?” he said abruptly.
Her heart jumped. “I saw him.” She forced herself to smile carelessly. “He still can’t believe that his best friend Bib Webb would be involved in anything underhanded. That was what put us on opposite sides of Dale’s trial. Marc’s loyal, I’ll give him that.”
“Too loyal. He can’t be objective.”
“It doesn’t matter. Everyone who could be hurt already has been,” she said philosophically. “Now there’s a new murder to solve.”
He motioned her into a chair. “I want to know what you think.”
She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, frowning thoughtfully. She was still shaken by Marc’s unexpected appearance, but her mind was sharp and she focused on the matter at hand. “According to my research, Dale Jennings has a mother, a widow. She’s practically an invalid. Just recently she fell for some sort of financial scam. She lost her life savings and her home. She was going to be evicted this week. Dale knew. I can’t help but think his murder has something to do with that. Maybe he was trying to get money for her in some way.”
“You think he was blackmailing somebody, and his victim hired a killer to stop him?”
Josette nodded slowly. “It’s conjecture, of course. But what if he had information that would hurt somebody? Bib Webb, for example. And what if he demanded money for his silence? Webb stands to lose everything if he’s involved in another scandal. Nobody would believe that he was an innocent bystander if he was connected with a second murder. Besides, he’s ahead in the polls in the senate race. Being proven guilty of murder would sure sour his chances of election.”
“He’s the lieutenant governor, and a successful businessman,” Simon reminded her.
“Only successful because his partner, Garner, died,” she reminded him right back.
“Yes, and Garner was a widower with no children. Webb was named sole beneficiary.”
“He inherited those millions and used his inheritance to buy into a successful agricultural concern and the balance went into the coffers for his political campaign. He won the lieutenant governor race two years ago, although a lot of people said he won it by default, by having his staff dig up dirt on his opponent and forcing him out of the race with it.”
“That was never proved,” Simon reminded her.
“I know. But Jake Marsh’s name was mentioned, and not only in connection with Dale. Now, Webb is well on his way to the nomination for the United States Senate. He’s a rising star.”
“There’s one little hole in your theory, Josette. Murderers don’t usually stop at one murder, unless they’re crimes of passion,” Simon remarked, thinking out loud.
“Nobody stood in Webb’s way until now. If Dale Jennings had something on him, some sort of proof, what would a man in Webb’s position do?”
“First, he’d make sure proof existed.”
“I don’t know how there could have been any tangible proof since nobody saw Mr. Garner’s murder. The only real evidence was the blackjack they found in the passenger seat of Dale’s car. I never saw it, but he didn’t deny that it was his. He never pointed his finger at anybody else. I don’t see what could have spooked anybody into killing him. No, if there was blackmail, there had to be something else, something that would prove Webb guilty of something besides Garner’s death. But the burden of proof will be on us. Otherwise Dale’s death will be another senseless, unsolved homicide.”
“Okay. Take the ball and run with it. But you have to work with Brannon.” He held up a hand when she started to protest. “I know, he’s a pain in the neck and he’s prejudiced against you. But he’ll balance your prejudice against Webb. Besides, he’s one of the best investigators I’ve ever known. I got involved in this to put Jake Marsh away. That’s still my primary goal. I think he’s involved. If he is, the investigation is going to get dangerous. Brannon,” he mused, “is good protection. He’s a master quick-draw artist, and he can even outshoot my brother Rey.”
“Rey won medals in national skeet-shooting competition,” Josette recalled.
“He’s still winning them, national and international ones, too, these days.” He stood up. “Keep this conversation to yourself,” he added sternly. “The governor and Webb are good friends. Webb has powerful allies. I don’t want to get anyone in San Antonio in trouble. We’re investigating a murder that we hope we can link to a notorious mobster who’s probably paid off a lot of people. Period.”
“I’ll be discreet.”
“I hope you and Brannon and the San Antonio CID can turn up something on Marsh. And the sooner the better,” Simon added with a wry smile. “Because I’ll go loopy if Phil Douglas has to take over your job as well as his own.”
“Phil’s a nice boy, and a good cybercrime investigator,” she defended her colleague.
“He’s a computer expert with a superhero complex. He’ll drive me batty.”
“You’re the attorney general,” Josette reminded him. “Send him on a fact-finding trip.”
“There’s a thought. I’ve always wanted to know what the police department’s computer system looks like in Mala Suerte.”
“Mala Suerte is a border town with a population of sixteen, most of whom don’t speak English. Phil isn’t bilingual,” she pointed out.
Simon smiled.
Josette held up a hand. “I’m history. I’ll report in regularly, to keep you posted.”
“You