Redress of Grievances (17 page)

"She
and I used to have a weekly bull session. You know, bitchin' about the kids and
some of our colleagues."

"Were
you here when she had her disagreement with Mrs. Sanderson?"

Throwing
his head back, Fields laughed. "Hell, yeah! If I hadn't stopped Sharon she
would have cold cocked that old biddy."

"Do
you know what they argued about?"

"I
think it was about some student they had in common. Sharon always picked these
loser kids and tried to help them. Sort of like taking in strays, you
know."

"Ever
know her to lose her temper like that any other time?"

"Nah.
It was just one of those things. No one was too sad to see Sanderson retire the
next year. She was pretty burned out."

"This
school have a Xerox machine?"

"There's
one down the hall in the teacher's workroom. I can give you my code to access
it."

AFTER
LUNCH, WAYNE loaded a box of copies and other materials into his Tahoe and
backed out of the school parking lot. He had interviewed two or three teachers,
who had all agreed that Sharon was a more than competent teacher and that Mrs.
Sanderson had been a bitch. If Harriett needed character witnesses, there were
plenty of them available at Highland Park High School. Entering the southbound
lanes of the Dallas Tollway, the traffic was light as he made his way back into
the downtown area, and the offices of the
Dallas Times-Herald.
Harriett
had given him the name of a friend of Sharon's who was a reporter for the daily
paper. Other than this one woman, it appeared that Sharon Taggart wasn't eaten
up with personal friends. A brief phone call earlier had led to him being
granted a brief appointment with Louise Harmon who had agreed to squeeze him in
between stories.

When
he stepped up to the reception desk of the
Dallas Times-Herald,
he still
wasn't certain what he hoped Louise Harmon could tell him. She would probably
turn out to be another character witness.

After
fifteen minutes of cooling his heels in the lobby, he saw a middle-aged woman
walking down a glass enclosed hallway, while apparently engaging in an animated
discussion with an older man who kept trying vainly to control his frizzy head
of hair by mashing it down with his hand as he talked. A moment later, she
approached the desk in the lobby, holding a sheaf of papers. She was a tall
woman with a round face framed by short dark hair. Her shirtsleeves were rolled
up to her elbows, and her shirt was tucked neatly into her khaki slacks.

"There's
a gentleman here to see you, Lou," the receptionist said, pointing in
Wayne's direction as he stood and readjusted his waistband.

"Mr.
Graham? I'm incredibly busy this morning, so I may have to cut our conversation
short if I'm called away."

"I
just need a few minutes. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

"I
can give you about fifteen minutes," Lou said as she glanced at her wristwatch
and then put her pencil behind her ear. "Deadlines, you know."

Wayne
followed her through a security door and down a hallway to a large break room.
He poured two Styrofoam cups of coffee and joined her at a table near a window
that overlooked the newspaper loading docks.

"Okay,
what do you need to know?" Lou asked as she grabbed her cup and tested how
hot the contents were. For someone who was supposedly Sharon Taggart's best
friend, Wayne hadn't expected Lou Harmon to be so brusque.

"You're
Sharon's best friend, aren't you?"

Lou
shrugged. "I'm the only one who kept in touch with her after she married
Frank I guess, if that's what you mean."

"How
did you two meet?"

"What's
the difference? I can't see how that would be of any help to Sharon now. It was
years ago."

"Humor
me," Wayne said flatly. "It's my fifteen minutes. Besides, if you
don't answer my questions now, her attorney will have to subpoena you, and I
can pretty much guarantee that will take you away from work longer than I
will."

Sighing
into her cup, Lou finally said, "Sharon worked here one summer as a junior
reporter when I was the city editor. I had to review anything she wrote. For a
college kid, she was pretty good and took criticism well."

"What
kind of stuff did she write?"

"Oh,
hell, we stick the summer intern types with the crap no one else wants, so it
could have been just about anything. You know, obits, garden parties, movie
reviews, those space killer things." Pausing to take a bigger drink, Lou
seemed to be thinking about something. When she set her cup down, she smiled.
"She really liked the movie reviews when she got assigned to them. Told me
once she had been in her university's theater group and had won some acting
award. She wanted to major in theater, but Clarissa disapproved of actors and
such. The reviews let her fantasize a little."

"Do
you know where she went to college?"

"Texas
Women's up in Denton," Lou said, glancing at her watch again.
"Anything else? Sorry, but we go to press in less than an hour."

"No
problem. Did Sharon ever get a chance, maybe at her high school, to get
involved in theater again?"

"I
never heard her mention it. Closest she ever got was their mock trial team. She
called me and asked if I would write a human-interest story on them once. It's
like a real trial with a judge and jury. Apparently court etiquette and
presentation are more important than actually winning the case. It was
interesting, and a few of those kids were actually better than some real
lawyers I've seen in action."

"You
knew her before her marriage?"

Staring
intently at her cup, Lou nodded. "Yeah. She was a different woman back
then."

"How
was that?"

"She
used to know how to have fun. She only married Frank to get away from Clarissa
anyway," Lou said as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"How
did you get along with Frank Taggart?"

"He's
an asshole," Lou answered as Wayne watched the muscles along her jaw
tightened.

"He
seemed okay when I spoke to him," Wayne shrugged, waiting for Lou's reaction.

Her
eyes were flashing as they met Wayne's. "He's a fucking imbecile who
mentally abused her. Probably physically, too, for all I know. You didn't know
her before...before he destroyed her spirit."

"Tell
me how she was."

Lifting
her cup to her lips, Lou said, "It doesn't matter any more. She made her
choice. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen."

"Were
you and Sharon lovers?"

The
look in Lou's eyes changed from anger to sadness as she took a deep breath and
exhaled. "Like I already said, Mr. Graham, it doesn't matter any
more."

"Do
you know the rest of her family?"

"I
met them a couple of times. Her dad's okay, her mom's too concerned about how
others perceive her to be worth much. Sharon and I actually argued about her
brother once. She wasn't too happy with an editorial I wrote about him and let
me know it," Lou chuckled. "For a while it was like the old Sharon
had been resurrected."

"I'm
guessin' you didn't give him a ringing endorsement," Wayne smiled.

"He's
a hack who gets by on his looks and charm. Hell, my dog knows more about the
problems of this senatorial district than he does. But the voters don't really
care as long as the candidate looks good while he's lying out his ass."

"When
was the last time you saw Sharon?"

"About
a year ago, I think. She called me out of the blue, crying. Said she needed
help."

"What
was her problem?"

"After
Laurel was born, Sharon seemed more unhappy than usual. When I got to her
house, she wanted me to take her to the Dallas Mental Health Center."
Clearing her throat Lou said, "She said the kids were driving her crazy,
and she was afraid she might hurt one of them."

"Did
you take her?"

"Of
course. We signed in and waited around for a couple of hours before anyone
would talk to her."

"Did
they help her?"

"Hell,
no. Someone came out and told her they didn't deal with postpartum problems,
and she should see her regular physician for an anti-depressant. But as far as
I know she never did. Like I said, that was the last time I saw her. I figured
she worked it out." Looking at her wristwatch, Lou stood up and tucked the
back of her shirt further into the waistband of her slacks. "Look, Mr.
Graham, I really do have a deadline in less than an hour."

Wayne
drained his cup and tossed it in the trash as they walked out of the break
room. "I appreciate your help, Lou."

Stopping
momentarily Lou looked at Wayne. "How is Sharon?"

"Holdin'
up okay so far, I guess."

"If
you see her, tell her...tell her I hope everything works out for her. She
deserves a break."

Unlocking
his car door, Wayne took a deep breath and squinted up into the growing heat of
the Texas afternoon before settling into his car and returning to his hotel
room.

Chapter
Sixteen

DESPITE
THE SUNNY cloudless blue sky overhead, a biting wind smacked into his face,
making him pull the collar of the lightweight jacket up to cover his neck. He
felt like shit and hadn't slept worth a damn the night before. It had been a
long time, and the air smelled different as it blew through the chain link in
front of him. He smiled benignly and waited while the final paperwork changed
hands, needing only one last signature.

The
old man had kicked off a couple of years earlier. He hoped he had suffered when
he keeled over a few minutes after the board meeting. His attorney told him
that money had been transferred into a trust. He fingered the bank card in his
pocket and smiled. The old man had always been generous to a fault, believing
he could buy his son's love. And he had been right. He loved his father's
money, and he had been making plans for years to put it to good use.

He
closed his eyes and saw her face in his mind, wondering how much she had
changed since the last time he had stared into her eyes. He had seen the hint
of fear in them and that was all he ever needed. Just that fleeting hint of
fear in her eyes had kept him going for nearly twelve years. He had promised
her he would drop by for a visit, and now dear old Dad had given him the means
to do that.

He
was jerked away from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping and watched as
the security gate slid open. Just outside the gate, a black and yellow cab sat
idling. He would spend his first night of freedom fucking and drinking. Then it
would be time to get on with the plans he had been making and storing in his
mind for too long. She was waiting for him. He wanted her to suffer, but not
all at once or too quickly.

Glancing
up at the two-story red-bricked guard tower, he smiled as he stepped through
the gate.

Chapter
Seventeen

AT
HARRIETT'S REQUEST, Wayne, working through Winston and Dunne, made arrangements
for Sharon to meet with members of her family and videotaped the meetings over
a two-day period. Early the following Monday morning, he gathered up the videos
and his notes, checked out of the Hyatt and headed for Austin, arriving before
noon.

Harriett
came out of her office and hugged Wayne warmly.

"Nice
place, kiddo," Wayne noticed. "Beats that antiseptic cell you called
an office at Winston and Dunne."

"Got
anything interesting for me?" Harriett asked as she looked down at the box
he was carrying.

Before
Wayne could answer, a man came briskly down the hall toward them. "Do we
have a sewing needle around here, Harriett?" the man asked. "I just
popped a damn button on my shirt."

"Phyllis
probably has one. Nick, this is Wayne Graham. Wayne, Nick Lazslo, my law
partner."

Nick
smiled, extending his hand to Wayne. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr.
Graham."

Taking
Nick's hand, Wayne noticed the man's friendly open face with deep blue eyes
behind his wire rimmed glasses. "Well, you can't believe everything
Harriett says."

"You
mean you're not really Superman, Dick Tracy, and father confessor
combined?"

Wayne
laughed. "But then again sometimes she does tell the truth."

"Wayne
has been looking into the Taggart case for me," Harriett said.

"Great!"
Nick said. "I hope you found something Harriett can use. This is going to
be a rough one, I'm afraid."

Nick's
concern seemed genuine, and Wayne liked his openness.

"Why
don't you sit in while Wayne shows me what he has?" Harriett asked.

"Let
me find a needle and thread first. I'll be there in a minute."

Wayne
followed Harriett into her office and set the box on her desk.

"Nice
guy," he observed.

"He's
an excellent attorney, too. I was lucky when he agreed to join me. What do we
have here?"