Underwood’s shaggy brown mustache quivered and I realized he was grinning. “I already talked to Major Bryant this morning before I went over to the courthouse.”
“Well, then,” I said.
“Always a first time.” His grin faded as he asked me again about the people I’d seen in Chan Nolan’s company.
He particularly concentrated on Savannah’s movements. “You’re positive she’d already left the table and the room with your bag before Nolan joined your group?”
“If you don’t believe me, ask Heather McKenzie. She followed the woman out.”
His legal pad lay on the narrow table between us and he made no attempt to conceal it as he drew a heavy black arrow on his notepad from Heather’s name to Savannah’s. “Now, Judge, what makes you think I don’t believe you?”
“The question marks you’re drawing around that arrow, maybe?”
He smiled. “And you’re staying with Nolan’s mother-in-law, right?”
“She found me the place, but it’s actually with her neighbor next door.”
He took down Pell Austin’s address and telephone number, then gave me back my tote bag and purse. The empty penicillin bottle he kept. So far as I could tell, nearly everything else seemed present and accounted for, right down to my cell phone, checkbook and car keys. I usually had three tubes of lipstick. The darkest one was gone. Gone, too, were my nail clippers. And I was in the habit of dropping in my loose change. Sometimes there would be five or six dollars’ worth of coins rattling around at the bottom. At the moment, there were only a nickel and three pennies.
Underwood made a note of it even though I considered them a small enough payment for getting my other things back.
“I’ll have someone drive you to your car,” he said, “and, Judge?”
“Yes?”
“Major Bryant also told me that you’re bad for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong—his words, not mine.” His half-teasing tone became wholly serious. “Do us all a favor while you’re in High Point, Judge? Don’t.”
10
« ^ » “
As a uniformed officer escorted me out of the building, I met Dixie coming in.
She gave me a wan smile. ‘They found your bag?”
“Yeah.”
Her drawn features and the dark circles under her eyes let me know that she hadn’t caught a nap this morning. What I didn’t know was if she’d been told yet that Chan’s death was a homicide. “You okay?”
“Hanging in,” she said gamely.
“Court should adjourn by one-thirty,” I told her. “Want me to take Lynnette for a drive or something?”
She brightened. “Could you? That’d be great. Cheryl’s with her right now but she’s hyped for Market and there’s so much I need to do before Chan’s sister gets here.”
I suborned my escort to drive through Hardee’s before taking me on to my car. I tried to buy him a burger, too, but he swore he wasn’t hungry yet. Tasted like ambrosia to me though, and I had my daily dose of grease and red meat half-eaten before we pulled up beside my car, still parked where I’d left it.
No second ticket on the windshield either.
Licking ketchup off my fingers, I drove back to the courthouse, parked in a judge’s slot, and made it up to my courtroom where I reconvened Verlin vs. Jenner only eight minutes late.
Travis Tritt Verlin’s young parents sat almost exactly where I’d left them on opposite sides of the room, and each eyed me anxiously as I leafed through all the documents looking for answers that weren’t there.
I tried to focus on what was right for this toddler at this time and to keep my mind clear of preconceptions and outside influences.
When I finally came down on the side of the father, I truly do not think it was because I’d let myself be influenced by Dixie’s fierce love for her granddaughter and her despair at the thought of Lynnette leaving for Malaysia.
But how can we ever say for sure what tips the balance?
The tension went out of Mrs. Verlin’s shoulders, April Ann Jenner sat with tears spilling down her thin cheeks, and a big smile split Randy Verlin’s face.
Holding up my hand for silence, I forced him to look me straight in the eye and said sternly, “Even though I’m giving you custody of Travis, Mr. Verlin, that does not mean that I think Ms. Jenner is unfit or a bad mother.”
I gentled my voice as I spoke to that unhappy young woman. “Nothing that I’ve read in these documents, nor heard here today, has made me think that. We’ll set up a visitation schedule and if your situation changes radically or if Mr. Verlin moves out of his parents’ house, then you can come back to court and ask for a new judgment. I’ll put that in my written decision. But I think we all want what’s best for Travis, and right now, it’s my opinion that he
