Redress of Grievances (11 page)

Harriett
nodded and climbed into her truck as Alex swung her Mercedes sportster out of
its parking space. As she fell in behind Alex's vehicle, she had to smile. One
good hit on the accelerator of her truck, and she could squash the sportster like
an insect. One of the things she enjoyed most about driving the truck was the
feeling of power it gave her, being able to look down on other drivers as she
passed them. Two blocks from the George Allen Center in downtown Dallas,
Harriett slowed to let the Mercedes get farther ahead of her. As Alex turned in
front of the building, Harriett turned down a back driveway and parked near the
entrance to central booking. A few seconds later, she was standing in front of
the same desk she had stopped at for the Wilkes case. A black officer searched
her briefcase and punched a button that admitted her into the interview area.

Interview
Room Nine looked pretty much the same as she remembered, a table and two chairs
and not much else. The door to the room opened, and she stood to get her first
glimpse of her potential client. Although she had seen hundreds of clients in
similar circumstances, Sharon Taggart's appearance was somehow different. Her
short brown hair was parted down the middle and strands of it fell onto her
forehead. Her dark eyes seemed to dart around the room as a female jailer
removed her handcuffs and leg restraints. It was almost an instinctive reaction
when Sharon rubbed her wrists. The jailer said something to Sharon, and she
nodded as she turned to face Harriett for the first time. It was almost as if
she had only that moment realized there was another person in the room.

"Mrs.
Taggart. My name is Harriett Markham, and I'm an attorney. Your brother has
asked me to speak to you," Harriett said.

Sharon
looked at her for a moment. "How is Parker?"

"He
seemed fine when I saw him. Why don't you have a seat?"

Sharon
lifted a chair to move it away from the table, and it seemed to Harriett that
she did it to prevent the chair from scraping against the concrete floor and
making unnecessary noise in the otherwise quiet room.

"Do
you smoke, Mrs. Taggart?"

"Yes,
but I shouldn't. It's not good for your health, you know."

"So
I hear. But I won't tell anyone if you'd like to smoke."

Sharon
shook her head slightly. "That's okay."

"Do
you know why you're here, Mrs. Taggart?"

"Uh,
they said I killed someone, but I don't know whom. They told me, but I didn't
recognize the name."

"Actually
they think you killed four people."

There
was a question in Sharon's eyes as she frowned.

"Did
I know them?"

"I
don't know that yet. According to the police report, they found a rifle they
believe was used in the commission of the crimes at your home. Was that your
rifle?"

"We
have a Browning rifle in our house. It's Frank's."

"Have
you ever fired it?"

"Yes."

"I
understand you're quite a marksman."

"I
used to be. Just target shooting. I don't like having the rifle in the house
because of Kevin and Laurel, though."

"Are
they your children?"

"Yes.
They're so curious that I'm afraid they might find the rifle and get
hurt."

"The
report says the police found it in a garage cabinet."

"I
had Frank store it there."

"What
about ammunition for it?"

"I'm
not sure where that is. Maybe in the attic storage area."

"Could
it have been in your car?"

"There
might have been some in the trunk, but I don't look in the trunk very
often."

"Do
you know where you were on Friday, January eighteenth?"

"I'm
not sure. I could check my calendar at home."

"You're
a teacher, aren't you?"

"Yes,
at Highland Park."

"Do
you do anything special after school on Fridays?"

"I
have to pick up Kevin and Laurel by five. Sometimes we stop by the grocery
store for pizza on the way home, or I rent a couple of videos for the kids. The
weather was pretty bad in January, so I don't think I did anything out of the
ordinary."

"Did
you and your husband go out for the evening?"

"We
don't go out. Frank and I don't socialize much outside of our family."

"Did
you kill Leonard Kaufmann on January eighteenth?"

"No,"
Sharon answered, her voice flat.

"To
be honest with you, Mrs. Taggart, the police seem to have some pretty
compelling evidence against you. The warrant to search your home was in order,
and you don't seem to be able to explain your whereabouts that night. Will your
husband be able to say you were home?"

"I
suppose so."

"Is
there anything you can tell me in your own defense?"

"How
are my children?"

"I
haven't met with your family yet, Mrs. Taggart. I only arrived in Dallas this
afternoon, but I'll speak to them in the morning."

"They
won't let me have pictures of Kevin and Laurel with me. Can you make them let
me have them?"

"I'll
see what I can do. Can you explain your fingerprints on the weapon?"

"It's
Frank's, but I've touched it."

"Your
husband's fingerprints weren't on it. Can you explain why?"

Sharon
seemed to be concentrating on the table's Formica top intently before she
looked up and stared into Harriett's eyes.

"Look,
I'm tired of answering questions. Just get the pictures of the kids,
okay?" Sharon said with a sudden forcefulness in her voice.

Leaning
forward slightly, Harriett said, "I'll get them if the police will allow
you to have them."

A
twisted smile crossed Sharon's face, "Are they afraid I'll kill myself
with a paper cut?"

"I
should make my position clear to you, Mrs. Taggart. If I take your case, you
have to be absolutely honest with me. You can't hold anything back if you
expect me to represent you. I can't..."

"I
know," Sharon said leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling.
"I know you can't reveal anything I tell you. I'm perfectly aware of my
rights and my relationship with my attorney. I'm not a moron, Ms.
Markham."

Sharon's
eyes slowly lowered until they coolly met Harriett's again.

"It
wasn't my intention to be condescending, Mrs. Taggart. But since I don't know
you very well yet, I thought I should explain everything as fully as
possible."

Sharon
shook her head and sighed. "It's all right. If I don't understand
something, I'll ask you to clarify if for me. Just check on the pictures,
okay?"

"I
will."

"And
please call me Sharon. That way I'll feel like you're on my side."

"I
am on your side, Sharon. You might already know this, but you are the client. I
won't take orders from your husband or your parents, or anyone else. If there
is a disagreement over my handling of your case, you're the only person who can
dismiss me and request a new attorney."

"Well,
that's refreshing to hear," Sharon mumbled almost to herself. "Don't
you work for Winston and Dunne?" she asked in a stronger voice.

"No.
I have a practice in Austin. They've referred your case to me."

"You
came all the way up here for my case?"

"Alexis
Dunne is an old friend."

"Nice
woman, but that partner of hers was a bitch."

"I
wouldn't know about that, Sharon. Is there anything else I can get for you
besides the pictures?"

"No,
I'm fine. Actually, it's very peaceful here."

HARRIETT
LEFT THE Allen Center the same way she had entered and drove back to the Hyatt.
As she was getting out of her truck, she saw Alex's Mercedes parked nearby.
Still carrying her briefcase, she entered the hotel and glanced around the
lobby. On her way to the elevator she passed the hotel bar and saw Alex sitting
alone at a table against the far wall. Holding the briefcase in front of her,
Harriett entered the bar. Alex seemed to be engrossed in reading a folder full
of paperwork on the table in front of her.

"Would
you like some company, or is this your favorite new hideaway?" Harriett
asked.

Alex
looked up at Harriett and removed her glasses. "I didn't see you come in.
Please, join me," she said as she signaled to a waitress. "How did it
go?"

"Hard
to tell. She's a little spacey," Harriett answered as she pulled a chair
closer to the table.

A
young woman came to their table, holding a tray in her hand. "Refill,
ma'am?"

"No,
I'm fine. But please bring a Chivas on the rocks for Ms. Markham," Alex
said. As soon as the woman left the table, Alex turned her attention back to
Harriett. "Spacey in what way?"

"She
seems fixated on her children right now. I arranged for her to get pictures of
them from her wallet before I left. Other than that, she didn't have much to
tell me. Didn't know the last victim, admitted she and her husband owned a
Browning and that she knew how to use it. Couldn't remember where they kept the
ammo. Likes you. Didn't like Gwen."

"Sounds
like an eclectic conversation."

"It
was," Harriett said as the waitress set her drink down.

"Thank
you," Alex said, handing a bill to the waitress. "Keep the
change."

"Are
you leaning toward taking or rejecting the case?"

"I
haven't reached the leaning stage yet. I want to interview her family
first."

"Have
you eaten dinner?"

"Uh-uh.
I'll order something from room service," Harriett said as she picked up
her drink.

"Why
don't you let me buy you dinner?"

"I'm
pretty tired tonight, Alex. Maybe another time. I have to call Lacey before it
gets too late."

Alex
finished her drink in one swallow and took a deep breath. "I'd like to see
you while you're in Dallas, Harriett."

"You've
seen me all day," Harriett said, sipping her drink.

"I'd
like for us to be friends again."

"We
are, Alex."

Leaning
back in her chair, Alex smiled whimsically at Harriett. "You're going to
make this difficult, and I can't say I blame you. I shouldn't have let you
leave Dallas eleven years ago."

"It
was the right thing to do. Look, I'm here to review a case, not to rekindle old
relationships. I loved you once, Alex, probably more than I should have, but
I'm not ready to pick up where we left off. I'm sorry. If I take this case, I
can't have it mixed up with a personal agenda."

Alex
nodded. "I understand."

Harriett
finished her drink and took a deep breath. "I'd better get some rest
tonight. Seven will get here pretty early."

As
she stood up, Harriett felt a little dizzy and gripped the edge of the table to
steady herself. "I'd better get some food pretty quick unless you slipped
something in my drink a la Jared Wilkes."

"Not
my style," Alex laughed as she rose from her chair. "Come on, I'll
walk you to your room."

"I
usually hold my liquor better than this."

"When
was the last time you ate?"

"When
we stopped for lunch."

"That
was nine hours ago."

Taking
the elevator to the fourth floor, Harriett fished the room key from her purse
and opened the door.

"Thanks,
Alex," she said as the door opened. "I'll be fine now."

Alex
reached inside and switched on a light. Taking Harriett's briefcase, she said,
"Go take a shower, and I'll order up something for you. I'll be gone
before you're out of the shower."

Not
feeling inclined to argue with her, Harriett dropped her purse on the bed and
pulled her boots off before making her way toward the bathroom. As she closed
the bathroom door, she heard Alex ordering a hot roast beef sandwich from room
service, which was one of her favorites.

When
she came out of the bathroom draped in a hotel bathrobe, Alex was gone, just as
she said she would be. The carpeting felt good under her bare feet as she ran a
comb through her wet hair. There had been a time when food would have been the
last thing on her mind if she had been alone in a hotel room with Alex. Even
now, if she allowed herself to think about being alone with her, she felt a
faint but familiar tingling sensation along her thighs, remembering Alex's
touch, tender and light. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door
announcing the arrival of her sandwich.

Chapter
Eleven

DRESSED
IN A powder blue slack suit over a white silk blouse, Harriett stepped off the eleventh
floor elevator and into the familiar world of Winston and Dunne. She turned
down a back hallway to avoid the waiting room where Sharon Taggart's family was
seated and entered the large conference room. Pressing a button on the
conference table, she waited to see who answered.