Tracy looked at him, shielding her eyes because the sun was perched on his shoulder. Barry dropped the ball. Tracy was surprised, but pleased, when Barry took her in his arms and kissed her. His lips tasted salty and it felt good being held. She rested her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.
"Not a bad kiss for a lawyer," he murmured. "Of course, it could be beginner's luck."
"What makes you think I'm a beginner?" Tracy asked with a smile. Then she grabbed a handful of his hair, pulled Barry's head back, planted a wet kiss on his forehead and dumped him in the sand.
"That was just like a lawyer." Barry laughed as he pulled himself to his feet.
"Don't forget the volleyball."
Barry held it in one hand and draped his arm around Tracy's shoulder.
"You ready to visit one of the most beautiful spots on the planet?" he asked.
"Yup."
"Then let's go have our picnic. We'll hit the Overlook on the way back to Portland."
They climbed the stairs. Tracy liked the feel of his hip bumping against hers and the pressure of his arm across her shoulder.
Barry tossed the volleyball into the shed. Tracy saw it roll to a stop in the empty space as they headed for the car.
Barry's special place was everything he had promised and they had lazed around enjoying Barry's Merlot and each other's company until the setting sun reminded them that they still had work to do. Tracy drove fast along the winding mountain roads that traversed the Coast Range and they hit I-5 a little before six o'clock and started looking for the Overlook Motel.
"There it is," Barry said finally, pointing past the freeway exit.
Tracy took the off-ramp and drove down an access road for two hundred feet, then turned into the parking lot of the Overlook Motel. Sunset would save the Overlook's dignity by cloaking its shabby exterior in shadow, but by daylight it was a tired, fading, horseshoe-shaped failure with an empty pool and a courtyard of chipped concrete and peeling paint.
Tracy pulled up in front of the office. She took a close look at three bikers who were parking their Harleys in front of one of the rooms and locked her car. A heavyset woman in a flower-print muumuu was sitting behind the registration desk eating potato chips and watching a soap opera. She put down the chips and struggled to her feet when the office door opened.
"Hi," Tracy said as she took her business card out of her wallet and handed it across the counter. "I'm Tracy Cavanaugh.
I'm an attorney. This is Barry Frame, my investigator."
The woman read the card carefully, then studied Tracy through her thick-lensed glasses, as if she didn't believe Tracy could possibly be a lawyer. Tracy didn't blame her. She was wearing shades, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was still dressed in the cutoffs and navy-blue tank top she had worn all day.
"We're working on a murder case and we'd like your help."
"What murder case?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"You may have seen it on TV, Mrs .... ?" Barry said.
"Hardesty. Annie Hardesty."
"... Mrs. Hardesty. It's the case where the judge was blown up in his car. We represent Abigail Griffen, his wife."
The woman's mouth opened. "You're kidding."
"No, ma'am."
"I've been following that case and I don't think she did it. A bomb isn't a woman's weapon."
"I wish you were on our jury," Tracy said with a smile.
"I was on jury duty once. The lawyers wouldn't let me sit on any of the cases, though."
Barry nodded sympathetically. "Isn't that the way it always goes. Mrs.
Hardesty, can you spare a few minutes to talk to us?"
"Sure."
"You're not too busy?" Tracy asked.
"No, it's slow on Sundays. What can I do for you, honey?"
"We'd like to see your guest register for May third of this year."
"I don't know if Mr. Boyle would like that."
"Well, we could subpoena it, but then Mr. Boyle would be the witness."
"You mean I might have to testify in court?" Mrs. Hardesty asked excitedly.
"If you're the one who shows us the register."
Mrs. Hardesty thought for a moment, then bent down behind the desk and came up with the register. Tracy opened the ledger to May and scanned the entries for May 3, the day Abigail Griffen said she had confronted Justice Griffen at the motel. Seven people had checked into the motel that day. She took out a pen and copied the names. Craig McGowan, Roberto Sanchez, Arthur Knowland, Henrietta Rainey, Louis Glass, Chester Walton and Mary Jane Simmons.
"If Justice Griffen checked into the Overlook, he didn't do it under his own name," she said.
"I wasn't expecting him to," Barry said, laying a brochure about the Supreme Court on the counter. There were pictures of all the justices in it.
"Does anyone look familiar to you, Mrs. Hardesty?" Barry asked. The woman studied the pictures intently. Then she put her finger on Justice Griffen's picture. "I've seen him a few times, but I can't say when. Is that the judge who was killed?"
"Yes, ma'am," Barry said as he started to pick up the brochure.
Mrs. Hardesty stopped him. Then she put her finger on the picture of Mary Kelly.
"Is that the wife?"
"No. Why?"
"She was with him one of the times he came here."
"Tracy," Mary Kelly said with surprise when she opened the door to her condominium. Even wearing reading glasses and without makeup, the judge was an impressive-looking woman, and Tracy could see why Justice Griffen would have been interested in her.
"I'm sorry to bother you so late, Justice Kelly. This is Barry Frame.
He's Matthew Reynolds's investigator."
The judge studied Barry for a moment, then invited the couple in. The condominium had a high ceiling and a view of the Willamette. Her taste was modern and there was a lot of glass and designer furniture in the living room. A cigarette was smoking in an ashtray that balanced on the arm of a deep alabaster armchair.
A biography of Louis Brandeis was open on the seat where Justice Kelly had left it when she answered the door.
"How's your new job?" Kelly asked. Tracy had the impression that the judge was asking the question to forestall her own.
"It's a lot of work, but it's exciting, most of the time. Sometimes, though, it's not so much fun."
Tracy paused. During her year at the court, she had come to respect Justice Kelly and she felt very uncomfortable about questioning her, especially about her private life.
"I've been following Abigail Griffen's case in the papers," Kelly said.
"How is it going?"
"We've just come from the Overlook Motel," Tracy answered, her voice catching slightly.
"I see," Kelly said, growing suddenly thoughtful.
"The desk clerk identified your picture and Justice Griffen's."
Justice Kelly took a moment to think about that. Then she said, "You two look too healthy to smoke. Do you want a drink?"
"No, thanks," they answered.
"Sit down." She placed the book on the floor, sat in the armchair and took a drag on her cigarette. "I was hoping to avoid talking about Robert and me, but it looks like the cat's out of the bag. What do you want to know, Tracy?"
"Were you having an affair with Justice Griffen?"
Kelly laughed self-consciously. "An affair sounds a little too formal for what we were doing."
Kelly suddenly sobered. She looked very tired.
"Poor Robert." She shook her head. "I just can't imagine him dying like that."
Kelly took a long drag on her cigarette and stared out the window. Tracy waited respectfully for the judge to continue. After a moment, Kelly looked up. Then she stubbed out her cigarette.
"Look, I'll make this simple," she told Tracy quietly. "My husband and I are separated. The whole thing is very amicable.
I'm going to file for divorce as soon as I'm certain I have no opposition in next year's election. If my relationship with Robert makes the papers, the bad publicity could give someone the courage to run against me. If possible, I would appreciate it if you didn't go public about us. I doubt it has anything to do with Robert's murder anyway."
"We have no interest in hurting you," Tracy said, "but I'll have to tell Mr. Reynolds. It's his decision."
"I guess I'll have to live with that."
"How did you two get together?" Barry asked.
"My problems at home were fairly obvious to an astute observer of human nature, like Robert. He was having his own problems with the ice princess. Since we had a problem in common, it was natural for us to talk. One thing led to another. Both of us were consenting adults.
Neither one of us took the sex that seriously."
"How long did it go on?"
"Two years, off and on. It wasn't a regular thing."
"Why the Overlook?" Barry asked.
Kelly chuckled. "Good question." She lit another cigarette. "It certainly wasn't the ambience."
Justice Kelly laughed nervously again, then took a drag.
"Robert and I are public figures. We needed an out-of-the-way place where we wouldn't be seen by anyone we knew. None of our friends would be caught dead at the Overlook."
"Did you meet Justice Griffen there on May third?"
'/Yes."
"Someone called Mrs. Griffen anonymously and told her Justice Griffen would be at the Overlook that day."
"Robert told me about that. I gather Little Miss Perfect was pissed.
She must have missed me by a minute or so. Robert, always the gentleman, assured me he didn't tellthe little woman who I was."
"You don't seem to like Mrs. Griffen," Barry said.
Kelly drew in some smoke. She looked thoughtful.
"I guess I'm not being fair, since I only met Abbie a few times.
I'm really echoing what Robert told me. Though Abbie did live up to her advance billing on the occasions we met." How so?"
"Have you ever tried talking to her? To say she was a bit chilly would be generous." Kelly laughed again. "I guess I shouldn't throw stones.
I've heard that I had a nasty reputation when I was practicing with my firm. It was just tough to get the time of day from her."
"Maybe she suspected you were sleeping with her husband,"
Tracy said, shifting uncomfortably when she realized that the statement, which she had not intended to be a reproach, could be interpreted as one.
Kelly stared at her for a second.
"That would explain it," she answered bluntly.
"What did Justice Griffen say about his relationship with Mrs. Griffen?"
Barry asked.
"He told me his wife was all work and no play, and barely tolerated sex.
That would be tough for someone like Robert."
"Who do you think tipped off Mrs. Griffen to your meeting at the Overlook on May third?" Barry asked.
"Probably someone he was sleeping with who was jealous."
"Was there someone else?"
"I always assumed so. Robert was a rabbit where women are concerned."
The statement shocked Tracy, but she concealed her surprise.
She found it hard to reconcile her image of Justice Griffen with the blatant womanizer Justice Kelly and Abbie Griffen believed him to be.
"Do you have any idea who the other woman is?" Barry asked.
"No."
"Do you have any idea who killed him?" Tracy asked.
Kelly crushed out her cigarette. Tracy thought she was debating whether to give her opinion. Then Kelly shrugged her shoulders and said, "Abbie, of course. She's the first person I thought of when I heard Robert had been murdered."
Chapter NINETEEN
Bob Packard did not look well. He seemed jittery. His complexion was pasty and his skin was slack, as if he'd lost weight rapidly.
Tracy wondered if Charlie Deems's lawyer had been ill recently.
"Thanks for seeing me," she said as she took a seat in his office.
"No problem. What can I do for you?"
"I'm an associate of Matthew Reynolds. Mr. Reynolds is representing Abigail Griffen, who has been accused of killing Oregon Supreme Court Justice Robert Griffen."
"Of course. I read about that in the paper. Boy, that was awful. You know, I won a case in the Supreme Court a few months ago and he wrote the opinion."
"That's why I wanted to see you. Mr. Reynolds would like to borrow the transcript in the Deems case."
Packard looked uncomfortable. He shifted nervously in his chair.
"If you don't mind my asking, why do you need the transcript?"
"Charlie Deems is the key witness against Abigail Griffen."
Packard's jaw dropped and he looked at Tracy as if he was waiting for a punch line. When none came, Packard said, "This is a joke, right?"
"Mr. Deems claims Mrs. Griffen hired him to murder her husband."
Packard remembered worrying that Deems might try to harm Abigail Griffen. He'd been thinking about violence, but framing Griffen for murder was diabolical.
"The DA is buying Charlie's story?" Packard asked incredulously.
"He seems to be."
"Well, if it was me, I'd be looking at Charlie long before I'd peg Abbie Griffen as a suspect."
"Do you have any specific reason for suspecting Deems?"
"Are you kidding? Blowing people up is Charlie's thing, and he has plenty of reason to frame Griffen. She made putting Charlie on death row a personal crusade."
"Mr. Reynolds thinks Deems is framing Mrs. Griffen, too.
We're going after Deems and he thought there might be something useful in the transcript. Especially the penalty-phase testimony."
"I'd be careful about going after Charlie if I were you."
"Why's that?"
Packard remembered playing The Price Is Right and his stomach turned. He had been off cocaine, cold turkey, since Deems's visit, but he wished he had some snow right now.
Packard was quiet for so long, Tracy wondered if he had heard the question. Finally he said, "If I tell you something, will you swear not to say where you heard it?"
"That depends. Our first loyalty is to our client."
"Yeah, well, I have to think of myself. I don't want it getting back to Charlie that I talked to anyone about this. I've got him out of my life now, and I don't want him back in."