“But I mean,” Annie says in an exaggerated voice, “what’s the point of not doing something if you don’t tell people why you’re not doing it?”
As usual, she sounds five years older than her true age, and also as usual, she’s right. If you’re going to try to change things by example, you have to let people know what you’re doing and why, even if you’re only nine.
“You’re right, punkin. Go ahead and tell them why you’re not doing it. But you’d better expect some strong reactions, maybe even from your teacher. Things change slowly around here.”
She nods seriously. “I’ll think before I talk.”
I wish some adults I know would do that. “Good girl.”
“Dad?” Annie asks in a tone of some anxiety.
“Yes?”
“Timmy’s mom came and picked him up early from school today.”
Images of Ellen Elliott fill my mind again. “Did anyone say why?”
“No. But I heard some teachers talking in the hall. They said Dr. Drew was in some kind of fight, and that he’d done something bad.”
Damn gossips. “Did they say what he’d done?”
“No. But one of them called him a bad name.”
“Which teacher did that?”
“Mrs. Gillette.”
A cranky old sourpuss. I silently mark Mrs. Gillette down for further attention. “Dr. Drew hasn’t done anything for kids to worry about. You don’t pay any attention to people gossiping, okay?”
“I know. I just wanted to tell you, ’cause Timmy’s seemed really sad lately.”
As I put my arm around Annie and hug her tight, a pair of headlights comes up Washington Street at slightly over the speed limit, then slows and darts to the curb in front of our house. Mia jumps out of her Accord with a smile on her face and a CD case in her hand.
“We’re gonna do some dancing, girl!” she says to Annie, popping out her hip in a move that seems to travel up her spine and out to her stiffened fingers by some occult law of physics.
Annie leaps to her feet. “What kind of dancing?”
“Cheer dancing!”
Annie claps and hugs Mia’s waist. She’s practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. This type of giddiness a father simply cannot generate—not in my experience, anyway.
“Run inside and put this on your boom box,” Mia says, cutting her eyes at me. “I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry!” Annie says, taking the disk and disappearing into the house.
“What is it?” I ask quickly. “What do you know?”
Mia’s smile vanishes. “Do you know about the grand jury?”
“Tell me.”
“This afternoon, four girls in my class got subpoenas to appear before the grand jury.”
My chest tightens. “Appear when?”
“This afternoon. It already happened.”
“Damn! Did they tell you what they were asked?”
“I haven’t talked to them myself, but I heard they got questioned by the district attorney, the black guy who ran for mayor last time.”
“Shad Johnson.”
“Right. All I know is that it was about Kate and Dr. Elliott.”
“This is unbelievable. Shad actually used Drew’s name?”
“I don’t know for sure. I can try to find out.”
“Please. No one’s supposed to talk about what happens in the grand jury room, but that’s probably all those girls are talking about.” Along with half the grand jury members, I add silently.
“Oh, definitely. They’re major mouths.”
“Do you think they knew anything intimate about Kate?”
“No. I don’t even know why those four got subpoenas.”
“Shad’s taking potshots. That’s all he knows to do. And he’s abusing the hell out of the grand jury system.”
“How?”
I click the button on my key ring, opening my car door. “A grand jury isn’t an investigative body. It’s constituted to decide whether people should be tried for a crime or not, based on evidence uncovered by law enforcement. Shad’s using the grand jury to bypass some important legal protections.”
“Like?”
“Like not questioning juveniles without their parents present. Police officers can’t do that. Shad could also call Drew in there and question him without an attorney present. But he has no grounds whatever to do that. Drew hasn’t even been charged with murder. If Shad brought his name up to the grand jury, the only justifiable reason would be in connection with the fight this afternoon. But Drew hasn’t even been arraigned on that charge.”
“Everybody’s talking about that fight,” Mia says. “I heard Dr. Elliott busted Steve up pretty bad. I saw the other two guys myself, Ray and Jimmy. They looked like they’d been hit by a truck.”
“The fight happened at lunchtime. Why weren’t those guys in school?”
“They ditched. Most of the seniors ditched today. A lot of them were scheduled to be questioned by the police or by sheriff’s deputies, and the rest just used that as an excuse.”
“What are people saying about Drew?”
“The word is mixed, believe it or not.”
“Really?” I want to ask more, but something tells me that Ellen Elliott can’t wait. “I’ve got to run, Mia. But I want to hear about this when I get back. And please find out all you can about what happened in the grand jury room.”
She holds up her cell phone. “No problem. See you when you get back.”
The front lawn of Drew’s house looks like a garage sale from hell. The grass is littered with tennis rackets, golf clubs, water skis, guns, cameras, and assorted furniture. Books and clothing lie strewn around the yard, most notably a tuxedo draped over a weight bench and a formal gown hanging from a low oak limb. I have to steer around a shattered flat-screen TV to negotiate the pebbled driveway.
As I get out of the car, the front door of the massive Victorian bangs open and Ellen staggers into the yard carrying a compound bow. I hold up both hands to show I’m not a threat. Ellen has killed more than a few deer with that bow, and she’s quite capable of taking me out with a razor-tipped broadhead.
“Ellen!” I call. “It’s Penn Cage.”
“You’re not welcome,” she says in a flat voice. “You’re the wrong kind of lawyer. Go home.”
She’s wearing some sort of floral housecoat that’s falling open from the waist up. Her usually well-coiffed hair hangs in limp strings around her face, and her eyes are puffy and red. Only her dark tan communicates any impression of health, but that’s an illusion purchased at the local spa.
“I’d really like to talk to you, Ellen.”
“So would half the town. My so-called friends, especially. They want to express their sympathy. Right. Those jealous bitches are so giddy with glee they could just shit.”
Ellen is clearly drunk. Maybe not on alcohol, though. Maybe it’s hydrocodone, as Drew warned me last night. Or maybe both. She flings an arm toward the street.
“Look at them! Vultures, every one.”
Across the street, the porch lights of two houses are burning brightly. Looking closer, I see neighbors standing in little knots in the yards, staring unabashedly at Ellen and me. I can’t make out Walter Hunt, but he must be there.
Ellen tosses the bow into the yard, takes two steps toward me, and gives me a withering glare. “Well? Is it true? Are you representing Drew?”
“I’m just trying to be a friend, Ellen.”
“A friend,” she says skeptically. “Yeah, I’ll bet. I know how you guys stick together. You probably knew about it all along, didn’t you?”
“About what?”
“Little Katie-poo, of course. The backstabbing slut.”
“Absolutely not.”
She gives me a knowing gaze. “Be honest, Penn. You didn’t sit around over a couple of scotches while Drew told you how great it is to squeeze a pair of seventeen-year-old tits again?”
“I had no idea anything like tha
t was going on, Ellen. That’s God’s truth.”
She waves her hand dismissively and turns away from me. “Whatever. You’re probably doing Mia over at your place every chance you get.”
“What?” My face heats with anger. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Come on,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “As much as Caitlin is out of town? I know these girls, Penn. I hear them talk. They’re nothing like the girls I went to school with. No guilt, no repression. Those days are gone, honey. These girls are the lucky ones.”
“How so?”
She gives me an intoxicated smile. “You know what the difference is between then and now, babe?”
“What?”
“These days, good girls do.”
I hold up my hands in a beseeching gesture. “Ellen, I’m just here to offer any kind of help I can.”
She swings her head around and belly-laughs as though I’ve just told a dirty joke. “Get real, Penn! You’re here for damage control. Admit it. You want to know what I’ve told the cops, or what I might tell them tomorrow.”
Is that really the reason I’ve come? I wonder. I’d like to think I’m the gentleman that Jenny Townsend believes I am, but maybe Ellen is right. “I won’t deny I’d like to know that. It could have great impact on Drew’s future.”
Ellen grins slyly. “You bet your ass it could. He’s sweating it over there in jail, isn’t he?”
“Have you seen him?”
Another preening smile. “Yes, I have. And it was pretty goddamn satisfying. It’s a new experience for him, I’ll tell you that. Jail is about the last place our golden boy ever thought he’d wind up. But that’s where he belongs, if you ask me. It’ll give him a little perspective. Remind him of what’s important in life.”
“Which is?”
“Family. Sacrifice. That’s what it comes down to in the end. You can do what you want to do, or you can do what’s right. And the two aren’t ever quite the same.”
“I’m not sure that’s always true.”
Ellen gives me a piercing look. “You know it is.”
“I was thinking of my wife.”
A shadow of regret crosses her face. “I’m sorry. Sarah was as good as they come. But Drew ain’t. I used to think he was, once. But he’s just like the rest of them.”
“The rest of who?”
“Men, sugar.” A wild light flashes in her eyes. “When it’s all said and done, they only care about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Ellen thrusts out her left hip and slaps her rump. “Dipping their wick in a piece of ass that’s attached to a smiling, subservient, and preferably young woman. And if not young, then different from what they’re used to. Capisce?”
Her gesture has caused one surgically enhanced breast to fall out of her housecoat. When she sees me looking, she does nothing to cover herself. “See what I mean?” she drawls. “Nothing stirs a man’s loins like a little strange, right, Penn? Oh, I know the story well.” She covers herself with a jerk of her gown and surveys the wreckage of her husband’s possessions.
“Ellen, if you want to be crude about this, let’s be crude. What happened to you and Drew is simple. He was unhappy, and his dick led him astray. You’re worldly enough to understand that.”
“Oh, I understand that all too well. I went astray myself one night in Jackson with a darling little tennis pro.” Her eyes flicker at a memory that cuts through her chemical haze. “But that’s not what this affair was about. No, sir. This was love, capital L-U-V. Didn’t Drew tell you? This was soul mates, poetry-and-candle-light, I-want-to-have-your-baby-and-do-mission-work-together-in-Peru stuff.”
Drew, you stupid asshole, I curse silently. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? Did you think you’d confess your secret dreams about your mistress, and your wife would understand? Like many men who have come to the point of needing a lawyer, Drew Elliott is his own worst enemy. And thanks to him, there’s not much I can accomplish here.
“Ellen, let me just say this. Because of Kate’s death, Drew’s smallest actions—and yours—could have far more serious consequences than you might imagine. We’ve got a politically motivated district attorney who’d like nothing better than to convict a rich, white doctor for murder.”
“Yes, we do,” Ellen drawls. “That black boy is definitely hungry for some white meat. And he’s got his eye on Drew, all right. He already asked me to come down and talk to the grand jury.”
My blood pressure plummets. “What did you tell him?”
“I’d think about it.”
“Did Shad threaten to subpoena you?”
“He’s not that stupid. Shadrach was sweet as pie, honey. He knows he can’t force a wife to testify against her husband.”
A wave of relief rolls through me, but Ellen instantly dashes it. “Don’t look too secure. Shad may not have to worry about that problem too much longer.”
I don’t want to encourage her by asking, but I have no choice. “Why not?”
“Tomorrow I’m driving up to Jackson and hiring the meanest divorce lawyer in the state.”
“Ellen, you don’t—”
“Don’t what?” She cocks her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do you have a comment, Counselor? Do you think I’m un justified in this course of action?”
I shake my head slowly. “It’s your life. I’m just sorry to hear this. I think something brought you and Drew together all those years ago, and there has to be something left of that. Tim, at the very least.”
For the first time I see tears in her eyes, little silver drops that she quickly wipes away. “I used to think there was,” she says in a hoarse voice. “But I was a fool. And whatever hope I had left, Drew just crushed in about as public a way as he could. I couldn’t go back to him now if I wanted to.”
“Ellen—”
“Don’t talk to me about swallowing my pride for Tim’s sake! I don’t like the taste of it! I’m not going to watch Drew mourn that little bitch for the rest of my life. Timmy’s better off with me alone than with a father who’d run off with his goddamn babysitter.”
There’s nothing more to be said. Ellen is dead set on a scorched-earth campaign, and the only thing that could possibly change that is time. Time and maybe sobriety. I get into my car, back away from the gingerbread castle, and head home.
Chapter
11
When I get back home, I’m ordered to sit down and watch a performance by Annie and Mia. Given that I’ve been gone less than thirty minutes, the dance is truly amazing. Mia moves with the bone-snapping precision of a girl in a hip-hop video, which doesn’t surprise me, since I’ve seen her do the same as a cheerleader at St. Stephen’s football and basketball games. What amazes me is Annie. She’s only nine years old, yet she mimics Mia’s moves as though she’s wired to the older girl’s brain. She doesn’t quite have Mia’s precision, but the flexibility and rhythm are there. It’s only a matter of practice. Her mother was a great dancer, too, and even after five years, the memory brings a lump to my throat. When they finish dancing, I jump to my feet, yelling and clapping in approval. Annie glows with pride, and Mia watches her with real affection.
“Bath time,” Mia says, doing a quick sequence of moves to keep Annie’s attention.
“Aww,” Annie moans. “I’m clean!”
“That’s bull!” says Mia, laughing. “We just sweated two gallons, at least. Your armpits are already stinky. I smell them from here.”
Annie sniffs cautiously beneath her left arm. “Uh-uh.”
“Uh-huh. Get going, Stinky!”
Annie giggles and then cartwheels into the hall. “Will you still be here when I get out?”
Mia shakes her head. “I’ve got way too much homework to stick around here. I’m gone as soon as your dad pays me.”
“Are you coming back tomorrow?”
Mia looks at me.
“Absolutely,” I tell them, knowing I’m bound to be caught up in Drew’s mess, whether I want
to be or not.
As Annie’s footsteps fade down the hall, Mia takes a seat on the ottoman in front of my chair and pulls the elastic band from her ponytail. Dark hair cascades around her shoulders. She puts the band between her teeth and shakes her head, then gathers her hair again and binds it into a looser ponytail.
“I talked to Stephanie James,” she says. “She’s one of the girls who got questioned by the grand jury. She said the D.A. didn’t use Dr. Elliot’s name at first. He kept asking if Kate had ever confided anything to Stephanie about an ‘older man.’ After Stephanie said no about ten times, Johnson got really aggressive. He acted like she knew about the affair but was holding back on purpose. Stephanie said she actually started crying. She also said she knew several people sitting in the chairs out there. The grand jury members. Some of them were St. Stephen’s parents.”
“Great.”
“Is it bad?”
“Oh, it’s bad.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. But you’ve been a huge help already.”
“I don’t feel like I have. Dr. Elliott’s in trouble, and I really like him. He helped me with my science fair project last year. He was really nice.”
I start to ask if she ever sensed any improper attention from Drew, but then I decide against it. As if reading my mind, Mia says, “No, I never got a hint of weirdness from him. I never even caught him looking at my butt, which most older guys do every time I turn around.”
I can’t help but laugh at Mia’s awareness of the reaction her body causes in men. I’ve admired her derriere myself on occasion. “You told me you’ve heard mixed reactions about Drew and Kate. Tell me about that.”
“Well, from the parents it’s all bad, of course. They blame him totally for the affair. Some of them say Kate always looked old for her age—and acted a lot older—but they say that’s no excuse.”