The Texas Ranger. Diana Palmer
I’m almost positive it was why he pulled out of the race at the last minute, but I never could prove it. I didn’t like Jennings around Henry, and I said so that night at the party when Henry was killed. We argued.” He grimaced. “I hated parting from him on an argument. You know how Henry was,” he added with a wan smile. “He trusted people.”
“That’s how you get killed in the modern world,” Silvia said with a high-pitched laugh. “You can’t trust anybody these days.”
Bib continued to ignore her and stared at Marc. “How did Jennings die?”
“Single gunshot wound to the back of the skull.”
Bib’s intake of breath was audible. “Dear God!”
“Oh, what does it matter how he died? He was a murderer,” Silvia said with regal nonchalance. “I don’t feel sorry for him. Is that why the state attorney general’s sticking his nose in, because it was execution-style?”
Marc didn’t reply for an instant. “That, and because Marsh is involved in a lot of illegal activities. He’s been trying to shut him down for years. Now we’re involved in a high-profile murder. Everyone wants to make sure the investigation is done properly.”
“And Simon’s letting that Langley woman mess it up. How stupid!” Silvia said.
“She has a degree in criminal justice, and she’s worked for Simon for two years,” Marc said, defending her against his will.
“She’s personally involved in this case. So are you. Neither of you should get involved.” She turned to Bib. “Call someone important and tell him to pull Marc and that woman off the case!”
That went right through Marc. “Do it,” he invited, silver eyes glaring at her, “and I’ll call a press conference myself and tell the world why I’m off the case.”
Silvia gasped. “Well! And I thought you were our friend!”
“I am your friend,” he returned curtly, looking at Bib, not at her. “But the law is the law. I won’t have interference in a case this sensitive.”
Silvia glared at him. Her hand, holding the glass, shook. She slammed it down on the porch, shattering it. “You stupid idiot!” she raged at Bib. “You’re such a wimp! You never do anything right!” She whirled and went back into the house with her eyes flashing. She muttered curses as she slammed the door furiously.
She wasn’t quite normal, Marc thought, and not for the first time.
Bib just shook his head. “Seven years of that,” he murmured heavily. “She’s a good politician’s wife, and she loves television appearances and society bashes. But there are times when I wish I’d married someone less explosive. I’m afraid I fall far short of Silvia’s expectations. She’d have left me long ago if I’d been poor or had a dull social life.”
“She loves you,” Marc said, although he wasn’t convinced.
“She owns me,” Bib laughed hollowly. “Well, I’d better go back inside and kiss a little more butt. They’re potential contributors to my senate campaign.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Going to vote for me?”
“No,” Marc said, deadpan. “You’re corrupt.”
Bib laughed with pure delight. “We’re all corrupt,” he agreed. He studied the other man curiously. “This must be painful for you,” he added perceptively. “You and the Langley girl were an item back then.”
Marc didn’t say a word.
Bib shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let it drop. We’ll be heading up to our place in San Antonio this weekend. Drop by for a drink if you have time.” He leaned closer. “Sil’s going to Dallas to shop on Saturday morning. We can sneak down to the corner coffee shop and eat doughnuts while she’s gone!”
“Won’t she let you have them?” Marc asked, surprised.
Bib patted his flat stomach. “I have to have a nice, lean figure for the publicity shots,” he confided. “I can’t have anything sweet if she’s within smelling distance.” He shook his head. “Dear, dear, the things we give up for public office.”
“You’re a good politician,” Marc replied. “You have a conscience. And a heart.”
“Liabilities, old friend, nothing but liabilities. I lack the killer instinct in campaigns. Fortunately, Silvia has it. You have a safe trip back to San Antonio.”
“Sure. You take care, yourself,” he added quietly. “There may be more to this case than meets the eye. Do you have a bodyguard?”
He nodded. “T. M. Smith. He was army intelligence in Operation Desert Storm. He can deck most men in hand-to-hand, and he’s a crack shot.”
“Keep him close. Just in case,” Marc added, and smiled to soften what sounded like an order.
Bib shook hands with him. “Do you ever miss the old days, when we hung around the record shop hoping to meet women?”
“I miss sleeping a whole night,” Marc said enigmatically, and grinned. “See you.”
He got into his black sports utility vehicle and drove away, the smile fading from his lips as he pulled out onto the highway. Silvia’s attitude bothered him. She was a strong-willed woman, and most of the time she was an asset to Bib. But he couldn’t help recalling her violent outburst when he mentioned that he was investigating Dale Jennings’s murder—or that it had been Silvia’s testimony that had resulted in Dale’s conviction for Henry Garner’s murder.
Marc had been so upset over Josette’s accusation about Webb and the revelation about the truth of her rape charges at the age of fifteen, that much of the murder trial had escaped his notice. He’d misjudged her and caused her untold misery and shame about that long-ago rape trial. Despite his anger at her allegations against Bib Webb, he’d been devastated at having misjudged her so badly. But any idea he’d had about apologizing had gone by the board. She’d looked at him in that courtroom at Jennings’s trial as if she hated him. Probably she did. He’d just walked out on her, with no explanation at all.
Worse, he’d been more than a little in love with her just before the Jennings trial got underway. He hadn’t been as angry about her allegations as he had been angry at himself, for being such a poor judge of character. He’d gone through the trial in a fog and, afterward, he’d quit his job and left town, to spend two miserable years with the FBI.
Now he was home again and the whole damned mess was being resurrected. Josette had no time for him. He could see the contempt in her eyes when she looked at him, feel her anger. He didn’t blame her. She had every right to consider him the enemy. She would do her best to put Bib Webb under investigation, and he would do his best to stop her. After all that time, they were still on opposite sides.
He stopped at a traffic light and a passing glance at a young girl in a long, flowered dress reminded him of his last date with Josette. She’d just graduated from college and he’d been there, along with her parents, for the ceremony. That night, he’d taken her out to a very fancy restaurant. She’d worn a long black silk dress with exotic flowers hand-painted on the fabric. Her long blond hair had been in a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. She’d looked absolutely exquisite.
After dinner, he’d taken her back to his apartment. Up until then, there had been brief, clinging kisses and love play that neither of them carried to the inevitable conclusion. He still hadn’t believed her rape story, although the woman he was getting to know didn’t seem the sort to tell lies. He’d reminded himself that plenty of women who looked innocent, weren’t.
His suspicions increased when she went with him to his apartment. She hadn’t protested being alone with him. He’d put on some slow dance music and shed his dinner jacket, moving her close to his crisp, white cotton shirt. Against it, he could feel the soft press of her breasts under the thin fabric. He hadn’t felt a bra, and that had aroused him, quickly and uncomfortably.