The Closing: A Whippoorwill Hollow novel (The Whippoorwill Hollow novels) (12 page)

Judge Greene sat at a conference table beside a window. He wore his black robe even in the informal surroundings. Nate took a seat across from him. The room smelled like a doctor’s office. A jar of Vick’s vapor rub and a roll of cough drops sat on the table. Judge Greene popped a cough drop in his mouth. “Mentholated throat lozenges. Allergies to pollen. Menthol’s the only thing that gives me relief during the growing season.” Judge Greene folded his hands on the table and smiled at Nate. “I had a long talk with Howard. Christine authorized him to make a very fair offer. She’s willing to sell the farm and house and split the proceeds down the middle. She’ll release you from any obligation to pay alimony. Howard characterized this offer as Christine’s last, best, and final offer of settlement.”

“I won’t agree to it.”

The judge’s smile disappeared. “How would you propose to resolve your differences?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to sell our home.”

The judge dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. He glanced at Nate self-consciously. “The allergies give me a fever.” He rubbed his temples and straightened his glasses. “If you don’t accept Christine’s offer, you’ll go to trial. Are you sure that’s what you want? A trial could be quite unpleasant for you.”

“A trial won’t make things any worse.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Judge Greene took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. “What do you think you’ll achieve in a trial that you can’t accomplish by accepting Christine’s settlement proposal?”

“I’m not certain, but I know I don’t want to sell our home.”

The judge coughed and rubbed his throat. “Howard tells me you had an affair.”

Nate’s stomach turned over, but he did his best to show the judge nothing.

“A Miss Rosaline Partlow.” The judge looked at Nate, waiting.

Nate had taken great pains to conduct his affair with Rosaline in the dark. Up to that moment, he’d assumed no one knew about it.

“Do you know this Miss Partlow?”

“She was my secretary.”

“Howard says his investigator spoke with Miss Partlow yesterday. She said she had an affair with you. Is this true?”

“Christine and I have been married for thirty years. I may have made a mistake along the way. So what?”

“Well, of course, an affair with this woman is quite significant to your case. Howard says this affair lasted more than a year and ended only after your separation from Christine. Is that true?”

“I don’t see the relevance of these allegations to this proceeding.”

“Howard says this affair is the reason the differences between you and Christine are irreconcilable.”

“I haven’t seen Rosaline Partlow in more than a year. She means nothing to me. Christine broke off our relationship because of my resignation from my position as commonwealth’s attorney. Rosaline is irrelevant to the issues of the divorce.”

Judge Greene cupped his hand over his goatee and squinted at Nate. “Perhaps you don’t know what’s in store for you. You were busy prosecuting criminals all those years you were commonwealth’s attorney. You probably never had occasion to observe a divorce trial. Perhaps you don’t know what a good divorce lawyer can do to a man.”

Judge Greene waited. Nate said nothing.

The judge continued. “Howard will call Miss Partlow to the stand. He’ll ask her questions about how and when the affair began, how long it lasted, dates and times of your encounters, what you did with her, where you did it, what you promised her, what you told her about Christine. Howard will spread every tawdry detail before us in open court. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is private.”

Nate was shaken, but he tried to project unwavering determination. “I repeat. Whatever I may have done with Rosaline Partlow is irrelevant to this proceeding.”

“You’re too smart to hold such a naïve view. You may not be a divorce lawyer, but you know the basics. A few states have a no-fault statute where your affair with Miss Partlow would not be relevant, but Virginia considers fault. This affair is central to the issue of fault. If Howard succeeds in proving fault against you, which seems almost certain, the trial judge will consider it in rendering his decision and it will weigh heavily against you.”

Nate could think of nothing to say.

“Christine wants to settle the case on generous terms rather than go to trial,” the judge said. “Believe me, her generosity in the face of this affair is quite rare. If you decline her offer, you’ll force Howard to hang you out to dry in open court. As a former commonwealth’s attorney, you are a figure of interest to the press. Your private life will be the lead story in newspapers and television broadcasts throughout the state.”

“I don’t care. I won’t agree to sell our home. We lived there for thirty years. It’s our home, damn it. I know I did some bad deeds. I know I hurt Christine. I know I have no right, but . . .” Emotion choked off Nate’s words. “I don’t want this divorce, Luther. I want to go back . . .” Nate’s throat tightened and he couldn’t speak.

Judge Greene sat back in his chair and made a wry face. “So that’s why you’ve rejected Christine’s offers. You’re stalling. You don’t want a final decree to be entered. You’re hoping some sort of deus ex machina will save your marriage.” The judge put his hand on Nate’s arm. Nate pulled it away. “I know you don’t value my advice, Nate. I understand. You’re a good lawyer. You think I was mediocre at best.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to say it. I know what you think of me. I’m not offended. I can’t compare my pedestrian achievements to your storied career. You were one of the best prosecutors in the state. You were at the top of the profession, and it meant a great deal to you. It was your identity, but you’ve lost all that. Your career as a prosecutor has met its demise. You confronted that awful reality and moved on as best you could. It had to be very difficult for you, but you faced up to it.”

“I don’t want to discuss the collapse of my career with you, Luther.”

“I know. You’re proud, and you don’t want help, least of all from me, but you need good advice now and I’m your best resource for advice about your divorce. Despite what you may think, I was a good divorce lawyer, and I know how to adjudicate disputes between people who once loved each other and now hate each other. I’m the best referee you can find in this corner of hell.” Judge Greene put his hand on Nate’s arm again. “Your career and your marriage are at the same place in the road. You accepted the demise of your career. Now you must face the truth about your marriage. Your marriage is over. You must accept the death of your relationship with Christine and move on.”

“I won’t accept it. I can’t, and I won’t agree to sell our home. I won’t agree to anything.” Nate fumbled with his briefcase, pushed away from the table, and walked to the door. He turned back to the judge. He wanted to say something more. He wanted to proclaim the salient point that would turn the tide in the case. He wanted to deliver the brilliant argument that would save his marriage, but no words came to him.

“You’re too smart to deceive yourself,” the judge said. “You know I’m right.”

Nate wanted to walk out the door, but he stood there, unable to move.

“What will you do, Nate? Will you accept Christine’s offer or shall I give you a trial date?”

Tears welled in Nate’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t get Christine back, and I can’t let her go. I don’t know what to do.”

“I understand and I’m sorry, but you have to make a choice.”

Nate struggled to rein in his emotions. The judge stood up and went to Nate’s side. “I understand, Nate. You need time to come to grips with this loss. I’ll give you two weeks. I’ll schedule a trial-setting conference for Monday after next. I’ll tell Howard he’ll have to wait until then for your response to Christine’s offer.”

Nate let out a long breath. “Thank you, Luther. I appreciate your patience.” He stood at the door for a moment. Then he looked Judge Greene in the eye. “I apologize for my disrespect, Luther. You’re right. You’re good at this.”

“Thank you, Nate. Take my advice. Use this time wisely. This will be your last chance to settle with Christine. Given what she knows about your affair, I’m surprised she’s willing to settle on any terms. Her good will isn’t typical and it won’t last. Trust me. I’ve been down this unhappy road many times.”

Nate went back to his office and gazed out the window. Storm clouds had clustered at the peaks of the mountains. The sky darkened. Splinters of lightning flashed on the blue slopes. Thunder rolled across Whippoorwill Hollow to Jeetersburg. The rain came down lightly at first and grew in intensity until it fell in sheets. Nate thought about the judge’s advice. He tried to imagine a future worth living without Christine. He could not.

“Judge Greene says you need two weeks to consider our offer.” Nate turned to see Howard walk into his office and sit down. “We can’t wait two weeks. Respond now or the offer is off the table.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t have much in your favor in this case to start with. Rosaline Partlow removes all doubt about fault.”

Nate turned his back to Howard and looked outside. The rain smelled fresh and clean. “How did you find out about Rosaline?”

“I always do a background check in divorce cases. I hired Clarence Shifflett to do a check on you. I didn’t expect him to find anything except the bad prosecutions, but he talked to your old secretary, Marthy Critzer. She suspected you’d had an affair with Rosaline. Clarence confronted Rosaline as though he already knew about it. She fell into his trap and admitted it, but she wouldn’t give him any details. Yesterday she changed her mind and told Clarence everything. She offered to testify for Christine.”

The rain eased off. A cardinal alit on a maple tree branch just outside the window. Wind ruffled his feathers and beads of water coursed down his back. He rippled his wings and flicked off the rain.

“I need your response to our offer now, Nate.”

“I’m sorry, Howard. I can’t accept your offer.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

“I don’t care. I can’t give her up.”

There was a long silence. Howard said, “There’s something you should know before you turn down my offer.” Howard swiped his hand over his bald pate. “I lied to you and Judge Greene this morning. My motion to excuse Christine’s appearance was a contrivance. She didn’t refuse to appear. I told her to stay home.”

Nate turned to Howard, surprised. “Why?”

“Christine doesn’t know about Rosaline Partlow. I didn’t tell her.”

Nate absorbed the import of Howard’s confession. Howard had advised Christine to make the settlement offer without telling her the most damning fact against Nate. Howard had breached his duty to Christine and defrauded the court in the process.

Howard said, “I met with Christine last night, fully intending to tell her about Rosaline, but I couldn’t do it. I know too much. I know you spent countless nights and weekends with her when you told Christine you were working. You told Rosaline you loved her. You told her you intended to leave Christine for her. I know enough to break Christine’s heart in two.” Howard’s eyes brimmed with tears. “So I didn’t tell her about Rosaline, but I’m not like you. I’m no good at breaking the rules. I’m no good at deceiving my client and lying to the court. I can’t hold it together. If you don’t accept my settlement offer now, I’ll break down and tell her everything.”

Nate struggled. He was confronted with two bad alternatives. If he accepted Howard’s offer, he would lose all hope of a reunion with Christine. If he turned it down, Christine would suffer another grievous wound at Nate’s hand.

Howard leaned forward, desperation etched on his face. “Don’t put her through this, Nate. She loved you with all her heart. If she learns you lied and cheated and betrayed her for more than a year, I don’t know what she’ll do. Don’t make me tell her.”

Nate tried to think of a way out of the dilemma, but there was none. After a long silence, he said, “All right. I’ll agree to the settlement. I’ll accept the divorce.”

“Thank God. I’ll call her now. My secretary will bring you my draft of the settlement agreement.” Howard hurried out of the room.

Nate looked out the window again. A light rain still fell, but shafts of sunlight speared through the clouds. He thought about good times with Christine. With his back turned to the door, he cried softly. Howard’s secretary brought Nate the agreement. He signed it without reading it.

Much later, he was still staring out the window when he heard someone behind him. He wiped his eyes, pulled himself together, and turned to see Howard sitting in the chair across from Nate’s desk. Howard was pale and his eyes were red. “Rosaline Partlow called Christine this morning. Christine knows everything. She won’t agree to the settlement.”

Nate felt a surge of relief. His marriage was not yet dead. But despair quickly overwhelmed the relief. He had hurt Christine again. “How is she?”

“She’s in shock.”

“Go to her, Howard. She needs your help.”

“She may not want my help. I lied to her and betrayed her.”

“Go to her. She’ll understand you were trying to protect her.”

“I suppose, but that doesn’t make it right.”

Howard stood and went to the door.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Nate said.

Howard glared at Nate. “It’s way too late for that.”

Howard walked out, and Nate was alone. He recalled again Judge Blackwell’s warning. “Christine will probably never take you back, Nathan, but if there’s any chance at all, whiskey will kill it for you.”

Nate had given in to his craving, he’d turned to Rosaline, he’d hurt her, and she’d called Christine. He had turned to whiskey and had broken Christine’s heart yet again. “Christine,” Nate said in a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The next morning Nate met with Judge Blackwell in chambers and told him about the relapse. The judge’s reaction was stern, but measured. “Alcoholism is a cunning disease. You let your guard down, and it seized you.”

“The craving is as intense as it ever has been.”

“Abstinence is your only hope. Put this setback behind you. You must not drink again. Turn to your caseload. Apply your skills. Use your talent.”

“What good will it do? I can’t regain what I lost.”

“When you were sober, you were a success and Christine loved you. When you became a drunk, you lost it all. Who’s to say you can’t regain what you lost by staying sober and concentrating on your work? Why not try to prove to everyone you’re still the man you were before you started drinking?”

“That man is dead. I killed him when I lied to Christine and cheated on her. I can’t forgive myself for what I did. Certainly no one else will forgive me, least of all Christine.”

“The chance of recovering what you’ve lost may be slim, but it’s all you’ve got. Work hard and see what happens.”

Nate did not believe he could gain redemption through his work, but he had no other alternatives, and anyway, work was his only distraction from his grief. He went to his office and spent the day trying to concentrate on the Deatherage case.

The night presented a unique and bitter irony. Nate had scheduled a dinner meeting for that night with Clarence Shifflett, the same private investigator who had uncovered his affair with Rosaline. Clarence was a retired deputy sheriff in his mid-seventies. He was the best investigator in the county, but his effectiveness had diminished as he aged. His main drawback was his failing eyesight. The lenses of his glasses looked like the bottoms of pop bottles. Anything more than ten feet away was an amorphous blur to him. The Division of Motor Vehicles had declared Clarence legally blind and stripped him of his driver’s license. He couldn’t travel without help, but he was the best in the business working from an office with a telephone.

Nate had hired Clarence to investigate Darlene Updike’s background when he first took on the Deatherage case. As it turned out, Clarence had been working for Howard Raines at that time, investigating Nate. Nate was angry that Clarence had not disclosed the conflict of interest, and he planned to fire him after he got the report about Updike.

Nate walked into Sally’s Diner at six. The place was packed. He looked across a sea of oxblood leather chairs and pinewood tabletops. Colonial sconces and cheap prints of fox hunts hung over the booths along the walls. The diner catered to retired blue-collar types, Marlboro smokers, and women with big hair. They filled every booth and sat shoulder to shoulder on bar stools along the counter. Nate breathed in the aromas of fried chicken, grilled steak, and baked potatoes, all mixed together with cigarette smoke.

Through the smoky haze, he saw Clarence at a booth in the back, hovering over a bowl of chili. Clarence was a short, wiry man who always wore a brown sweat-stained felt hat pulled down low over his ears. He spooned a mouthful of chili, raised his head, and looked around the diner. His glasses magnified his eyes and made him look like a giant praying mantis.

Nate slid into the booth across from him. Clarence straightened his glasses and squinted at him. “Nate. I didn’t see you come in. You’re late. I started without you.”

“I’m not hungry.” Nate got the attention of a waitress and ordered a cup of coffee.

Clarence looked uneasy. “Howard says he told you what I found out about Miss Partlow.”

Nate nodded.

“I’m sorry, Nate.”

“You should have told me you were working for Howard when I hired you for the Deatherage case.”

Clarence pushed the bowl of chili aside. “I was afraid you wouldn’t hire me if I told you.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“You’re right, Nate, but I’m awfully short on work. It’s tough to make a living when everybody thinks you’re washed up.”

Nate stared down at his coffee cup and didn’t say anything.

“I hated to take that job, given all the cases you and I worked together in the old days, but Howard offered me a young attorney to drive me around. I crave time in the field. I’ve had a rough go of it since the state took my driver’s license.”

Nate’s resentment toward Clarence began to dissipate. Clarence’s age was gradually robbing him of opportunities to do the job he loved, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I had to do my best for Howard,” Clarence said. “He’s been mighty good to me, but I wish I hadn’t found that woman.”

“I wish I hadn’t found her, too,” Nate said. There was an awkward silence. “What have you got for me about Darlene Updike?”

Clarence looked as though he wanted to say more, but he let it go. He picked up his notepad and held it inches from his face. “Her full name was Darlene Charlotte Updike. Born July 9, 1943. One month short of twenty-four when she was murdered. Her last job was at The Fox Paw in Albany, New York. She worked there from April 1965 to October 1966.”

“What kind of business is that?”

“A restaurant with a bar. Some kind of nightspot with live entertainment. In the old days, I would’ve gone up there for a look-see, but I can’t do it now. All I’m good for is to call people on the phone. I called The Fox Paw and talked to the manager. He said Updike was a waitress. He said she didn’t do too good a job. Most nights, she was late for work or didn’t show up at all. The manager said he put up with her bad ways because she was a looker.” Clarence lowered his notes and frowned at Nate. “She was pretty fast and loose from what I found out. My guess is this manager took advantage.”

“Why did she leave The Fox Paw?”

“The manager said she had a drinking problem. He was willing to put up with that, but he says she started using drugs and he wouldn’t tolerate it. He claims he caught her in a back room one night shooting drugs into her arm, so he fired her. I think that was a lie. I think he fired her because she stopped sleeping with him, but that’s just a hunch.”

“You got this manager to tell you about her drug use over the phone?”

Clarence’s face crinkled into a Teddy Roosevelt grin. “When you’re chained to the phone, you have to be resourceful. I told him I was a Virginia Alcohol Control Board agent. I said the state caught her selling liquor to minors when she was a clerk in a state-run outlet. Told him I wouldn’t bother him if he gave me the truth about her because what she did in his bar in New York wasn’t in my jurisdiction, but if he held back information I’d tell my regulatory buddies with the New York State Liquor Authority to investigate his place. He was worried about losing his liquor license, so he was real cooperative. That’s what his kind does when they’re scared. They tell you all the dirt on everybody else to distract you from finding out about their own crooked ways.”

“Where did she work before The Fox Paw?”

“She quit high school when she was in the tenth grade. She ran through a series of odd jobs—waiting tables, answering phones for a doctor, bagging groceries, clerking in a clothing store. She never lasted more than a couple months at any one place until she got the job at The Fox Paw. I couldn’t find any record that she worked after The Fox Paw fired her.”

“Did you check the rehab centers?”

“They won’t give out information about patients no matter what I tell them.”

“Any criminal record?”

“No, but she was arrested a couple times for drunk driving.”

“Why isn’t there a record?”

“Her father cleaned it up.”

“How do you know that?”

“I checked with the court clerk in Albany for lawsuits where Darlene was a party. There were none, but the clerk found an old civil suit where her father, Daniel Updike, was a plaintiff. The clerk sent me copies of the court file. Interesting case. About ten years ago, Updike sued his neighbor for putting up a fence that violated a homeowners’ association rule. It turns out Updike is a lawyer. He represented himself in the suit and he beat the neighbor pretty good. The neighbor had to pay Updike’s expenses and take down the fence. The neighbor is Robert Fleming. I called him.” Clarence grinned again. “Bob’s the type who holds a grudge.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Bob said Darlene was a hellion, a drunk and a drug addict. Hard drugs, but he didn’t know what kind. Bob said she was out all night every night. When she bothered to come home, she was blind drunk or worse. He said Darlene got at least two DUIs, and he suspected there were others he didn’t know about. I told Bob there was no record of the DUIs. Bob said that was because her father had the Albany police chief in his back pocket, but that wasn’t the most interesting tidbit Bob had to offer.”

“What else?”

“The girl had a fight with her father after the last DUI and she moved out. That was about three years ago. She moved back in with her folks a year later, a year before she was killed. When she moved back in, she had a baby boy with her, her baby boy.”

Nate paused, surprised. “Who’s the father?”

“Bob didn’t know. He thinks Darlene didn’t know either. I suspect The Fox Paw’s manager might be the culprit, but that’s a wild guess. Bob said that illegitimate baby tore up Darlene’s folks. Daniel Updike is a big-time Catholic, and the baby was the scandal of his parish. He quit his church over the way they treated Darlene.”

“Where is the baby now?”

“With Darlene’s folks. Bob said Darlene took off and left the little boy with her folks a couple months before she turned up murdered in Bloxton.”

“You mean she ran away?”

“I don’t think so. Updike told Bob that she was down south with relatives, taking a break from the baby, but Bob thought the Updikes sent her somewhere to work on her drug problem.”

“Did Darlene’s parents tell Fleming anything about the murder?”

“Bob said they were shocked and torn up, like you’d expect. Darlene’s father tried to do himself in. Swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. The doctors pumped his stomach and saved his life. He spent a few months in a mental institution last fall. Bob said the Updikes have never recovered from the murder. I’ve heard you can’t get over the death of a child, but I don’t rightly know, thank the good Lord.”

“Did you talk to the Updikes?”

“I called them and spoke to Darlene’s father. With all he’s been through, I couldn’t lie to him. I told him who I worked for. He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone who worked for Deatherage. I can’t blame him.”

“You have anything else on Darlene?”

“That’s it.”

Nate was astonished by Clarence’s discoveries, considering his confinement to his office. “Nice job, Clarence. You earned your fee and then some.”

“Thanks, Nate. What’s your next step?”

“I’m going to Bloxton day after tomorrow to dig for more information.”

Clarence scooted up on the edge of his seat. “I know I have no right to ask you for work after what I did to you, but take me with you. I guarantee you I can find a truckload of information for you in Bloxton.”

“Sorry, Clarence. I can’t use you.”

“Come on, Nate. Take me to the local watering holes and turn me loose. I’ll find out more in a few hours than you’ll figure out in a month.”

Nate didn’t say anything.

“Please, Nate. I crave time in the field something awful. Take me to Bloxton.”

Nate’s plan to fire Clarence melted away. He couldn’t bring himself to judge him harshly. After all, when it came to ethics, Nate hadn’t been a paradigm of virtue. “All right. I’ll pick you up Wednesday midmorning.”

Clarence’s face broke into a broad smile. “Thanks, Nate. You won’t regret it.”

“Use the day tomorrow to do a background check on Randolph Swiller. Do one on Judge Edbert Herring, too, but make sure no one tips him off to your investigation.”

“I’ll get on it first thing.”

Nate thought about Deputy Jones and the incongruity between his reputation as a war hero and his apparent falsification of evidence. “Do you know of any way to get access to military personnel records?”

“What branch of the service?”

“The army.”

“The army’s personnel files are stored in a records center in St. Louis. I’ve got a contact there who owes me a favor. What are you looking for?”

“There’s a deputy sheriff in Buck County. His name is Darby Jones. They say he’s a war hero, but I’m not so sure.”

“When did he serve?”

“He was drafted. I’m not sure when, but I’d guess by his age it was 1962 or ’63. He’s rumored to have fought in Vietnam.”

Clarence scribbled on his notepad. “I’ll call my contact tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you Wednesday morning.” Nate stood to leave.

“Nate.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for not holding it against me—what I did for Howard.”

Nate nodded to Clarence and walked out of the diner. He stood in the street and breathed in the warm night air. A nightingale sang in Beauregard Park. Nate looked for the nightingale and thought about Rosaline. He wished he’d never met her. He wished he hadn’t sunk to the bottom of a sea of whiskey. He wished he could wipe away the last few years and live them over again the right way.