poke a hole in the ground, placed a candle, and moved on.
I waited until we’d set up two candles before I broached the subject. “I’m here about Jefferson Lamar,” I said.
This wasn’t something she expected. Her eyebrows arched, she looked over her shoulder at me. “You know he’s dead.”
“Yes, of course. But his widow-”
“Helen.”
“Helen thinks he was innocent.”
Darcy stopped in her tracks, and believe me, I’m not overly sensitive or anything, but when she looked me up and down, I couldn’t help but feel a little defensive. “And she sent you to try and find out more?”
I didn’t like her tone. Then again, I wasn’t crazy about her fashion choices, either, so I guessed there wasn’t much the professor and I had in common. I reminded myself to hold on to my temper. “I’m doing some research about Lamar. I thought if I talked to someone who knew him well…”
“All these years, and Helen still won’t let it go. She wants you to prove Jeff was innocent, right?”
“Can you help me do that?”
She shook herself out of the initial shock that had rooted her to the spot and continued on. We didn’t stop again until we were on the far side of the circle. She signaled, I handed, she placed.
“I never thought Warden Lamar was guilty,” she said.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I knew he was innocent. That’s all. Or I thought I knew. He wasn’t that kind of man.”
“But there was plenty of evidence against him.”
“The gun, you mean.”
“And his blood at the scene.”
“On Vera’s blouse. Yeah, I remember that.” She moved on to the next spot. “It made him look really bad. I remember how disappointed I was. I didn’t want it to be true.”
“But you think it was.”
“I think the jury had to make a decision based on the facts, and the facts were pretty clear.”
“But what if he wasn’t guilty? What if someone framed him?”
I thought maybe I’d get the kind of reaction I had from Lenny Fitzpatrick, but Darcy was more matter-of-fact than angry. “Of course, I thought of that,” she said. “I was living in California by that time, and I was pregnant and pretty sick. I couldn’t travel back for the trial, but I gave a deposition. I told the court everything I knew, and everything I knew said that Jeff was a good and honor-able man.”
“Did you tell them you thought he’d been framed?”
“There was no proof.”
“But it was possible?”
Another shrug.
“If somebody framed him, do you have any idea who it could have been?” Her expression was sour, and I knew if I didn’t justify myself, she’d tell me to get lost. “You must have known more about what went on in that prison than just about anyone else,” I said. “You knew what was in each prisoner’s file, right? Who had disciplinary problems. Who had a beef with the warden.”
She grunted a laugh. “Every prisoner in there had a beef with the warden. Comes with the territory.”
“But maybe some of them were more pissed than others?”
This gave her pause, and we stopped in the shade of the biggest of the oaks. “I was Jeff’s secretary for six years, and I’ll tell you what: in that time, I saw my share of trouble-making prisoners. There were a couple who were worse than the others, though. Yeah.” Thinking, she narrowed her eyes. “There were a couple who were lots of trouble.”
“Would any of them have been capable of framing Lamar?”
This time when she laughed, there was not one bit of humor in it. “You don’t know prisoners, do you? Oh yeah, there were a few who would have loved to see Lamar get jammed up. I told the police that when they called and talked to me about the case. If they followed up on my information or not, I can’t say. I only know that if they did, they must not have found anything, because Jeff was the one who was arrested, and he was the one who was convicted.”
“It’s possible things might look different now. I mean, a lot of time has passed. If you could give me some names…”
I don’t know if she was going to agree or not because at that very moment, five other women entered the clearing. They were all middle-aged and all dressed pretty much as Darcy was, in long robes. I’d held my curiosity in check long enough.
“What in the world-”
Darcy’s smile sparkled. “We’re doing a croning ceremony,” she said, and in answer to my blank look continued. “Debbie over there”-Debbie was apparently the plus-sized woman in the red robe-“is turning fifty, and we’re going to honor the wisdom she’s gained over the years. Would you like to join us?”
“Will it get me the names of the prisoners you think might have framed Jefferson Lamar?”
Darcy didn’t answer. In fact, all she did was smile.
Right before she and all the other women there stripped off their robes.
Every single one of them was stark naked underneath.
8
Do I even need to say how fast I got out of there? Of course I don’t. Just like I don’t need to mention that not even a bunch of middle-aged naked babes were enough to scare me into giving up-not when Darcy Coleman had already mentioned prisoners who were more trouble than most, ones who might have hated him enough to frame Jefferson Lamar.
Making sure I was nowhere near where I could catch so much as a glimpse of those women in all their crone- like glory, I hung around the sports complex until I saw a couple of them (back in their robes, thank goodness) heading for their cars. Before Darcy was in the parking lot, I was already closing in on her.
“Did we make you uncomfortable?” She unlocked the trunk of her sea green Prius and deposited the candles and her books inside. “That wasn’t our intention, you know. We’re simply celebrating our femininity. You take it for granted when you’re young.” She shot me a sidelong glance. “But someday you’ll realize that there’s more to being a woman than just being sexy and adorable.” She banged the trunk shut. “Wisdom is a good thing.”
“Which is why I want to find out more about those prisoners you said might have had it in for Jefferson Lamar. Once I have their names, I’ll be smarter, right? And wisdom-”
Darcy laughed. “Thank goodness you’re not one of my students. You’d be trouble in class.”
“I always was.” I left out the part about how it wasn’t because I’d ever challenged my professors to see things in a different light. “You said you’d give me names.”
“I never did.” She unlocked her car and opened the driver’s door so it would cool off inside before she climbed in. “But… well… maybe I can help you.”
It was exactly what I was hoping she’d say, and I was ready for her. I already had a notebook in my hands and I clicked open a pen.
“The first one that comes to mind is Mack Raphael, of course,” she said. “But that’s just because I see him on TV all the time.” I guess my next question was evident in my
Now that she mentioned it, that did sound familiar. “This Bad Dog guy, he used to be a prisoner?”
“One of the worst. I don’t remember details, but I think he was at Central State because of aggravated assault or something like that. Something violent. It wasn’t his first offense, either. It’s funny, really. Every time I see one of those commercials, I find myself thinking about Warden Lamar. He was a big believer in rehabilitation, and if Bad Dog owns his own successful business… well, maybe the warden was right. Maybe prisoners really can turn
