Maureen took a step closer to him. Her lips parted, and she stared at him with unblinking eyes. “I thought perhaps when the trial is over, you and I could spend some time together. Get to know each other better.”
“I’d like that.”
Ben approached the county building housing his office from the rear, the back alley. He’d learned a couple of days before that the other door just outside his office led to the fire escape, which had an old-style metal ladder that descended to the ground. He’d also learned that the ladder could be easily hooked and climbed from the back alley, which allowed him to get in directly without passing through the gauntlet of secretaries waving phone messages and asking questions.
It was twilight; the sun was setting and the street lamps were just beginning to flicker on. Magic Valley still had the old-style lamps-tall, wrought-iron posts on every street corner, like the ones in the small Oklahoma town where his maternal grandmother had lived. They had probably been gas lamps originally, in a previous generation. And someday they might be replaced with the high-powered fluorescent lighting one saw all over Tulsa-but he hoped not.
Ben had almost reached the bottom rung of the ladder when he heard a soft but insistent hissing from somewhere in the muddled darkness surrounding him. “Psst.”
He whirled around in all directions. He didn’t want to seem paranoid, but after the violence that had been visited on Green Rage earlier this day, almost anything seemed possible.
“Who is it?” he said, trying to pierce the darkness. “Where are you?”
He heard a scratching, a sound of movement, but no response.
“I know you’re there,” Ben said loudly. He was trying to make a show of being brave, but a show was all it was. Inside, he was petrified. If he ran up against a pack of rowdies from Bunyan’s, he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.
“I’m dialing the sheriff on my cell phone,” Ben shouted, hoping someone would believe it. “They can be here in seconds.”
He heard the scratching noise again, and a second later, in the dim light he saw a petite young woman crawl out from behind the Dumpster at the end of the alley. “Don’t call the police,” she whispered, brushing off the sleeves of her tweed coat. “I just want to talk.”
Ben didn’t know what to do. She didn’t appear very threatening. “Who are you?” he asked. “What’s this all about?”
“My name is Peggy Carter,” the woman answered. She stepped closer, till they were perhaps ten feet away from one another. “I work for Granny.”
“In the D.A.’s office? What on earth do you want?”
“I can explain.” She seemed extremely nervous. Ben was relieved to see he wasn’t the only one. “I just want to talk to you.”
“If this is some intimidation play, something Granny’s cooked up to scare me off, you can quit before you start.”
“No, that isn’t it. That isn’t it at all. I want to help you.”
That took Ben by surprise. “You want to help … me?”
“Well, perhaps I’m putting this the wrong way. It isn’t that I particularly want to help you. I just don’t feel I have any choice. I won’t let-” She shook her head. “Anyway, if Granny knew I was here …”
Ben was beginning to get the drift. This was an unauthorized visit.
He escorted Peggy up the rickety ladder and, after ensuring that the coast was clear, led her down the short corridor to his tiny office. He was glad to see it was unoccupied. Loving must be out investigating, he mused. And Christina is probably out with the sheriff getting an ice cream.
“What is it you want to talk about?” Ben asked after she was situated in the only chair.
She swallowed. “Alberto Vincenzo.”
Ben shook his head. “Should I know that name?”
“Not unless you’re big into the drug scene.”
“Drugs?” He paused. “I remember Granny mentioned that Magic Valley was having a surge in drug use. Some kind of new designer drug.”
“Right. We call it Venom. Twice as fast as crack, with twice the high. And twice as deadly.”
“And this Vincenzo …”
“We believe is peddling the stuff. We’ve been alerted by the DEA and local law enforcement that he’s in the area. And he’s known to have some big-time connections to the drug scene.”
“California?”
“And beyond. We’re talking South America here. Mucho big time.”
Ben nodded. “Does this relate to the Dwayne Gardiner murder?”
“Yes. Or no, but-” She frowned. “The truth is, I don’t know. But we’ve had reports that Gardiner was behaving erratically shortly before his murder-hyper, disoriented, spaced-out.”
“Like maybe he was sampling the new designer drug.”
“Maybe, yeah. And if so, this Vincenzo character might’ve known him.”
“Or even had a motive to murder him.”
“I think that’s pretty remote,” Peggy said. “But I can’t altogether eliminate the possibility. So I thought you should know.”
“I’m appreciative, but why isn’t this coming through official channels?”
Peggy glanced down at the floor. “Granny didn’t, um, feel production to the defense was warranted.”
“Why am I not surprised? I’m filing a complaint with the judge.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“The prosecution has an obligation-”
“You don’t have to lecture me about it. Why do you think I’m here?”
Ben bit his lip.
“But the fact is, Judge Pickens will take Granny’s side. Believe me, I’ve seen it before. Those two are thick as thieves. All you’ll do is get me fired. And I really can’t afford to be unemployed right now.”
“I wouldn’t say who my informant was.”
“She’ll know. It’s not like Kip or Troy ever had a thought of their own.”
“I can’t believe the judge would ignore-”
“That judge used to dandle Granny on his knee, as he’s fond of saying in open court. You’re not going to convince him she’s committed prosecutorial malpractice.”
“Which is why she gets away with this kind of crap.”
“True. But you have more important things to do than wasting time losing motions.”
Ben didn’t like it, but he realized she was probably right. First things first. “Do you have anything else you can give me?”
“I couldn’t get the file. Granny grabbed it the instant I raised the issue, and I haven’t seen it since. I have managed to liberate this photo.”
She slid the standard Vincenzo mug shot across the table. Ben took one look, then winced. “Man, he is one seriously dangerous-looking man.”
“Not someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley, huh?” Peggy said, grinning.
Ben shook his head. Huge pumped-up arms, strapping shoulder muscles, an evil-looking scar across the forehead-wait a minute. He’d seen this man before. In the dead of night, when he was breaking into the bookstore …
“I appreciate your coming forward,” Ben said, setting the photo down. “I know it probably wasn’t easy for you.”
“I had to,” Peggy said quietly. “I couldn’t’ve lived with myself.”
“What you’ve done makes a real difference. Every lead takes me another step forward. Who knows? This may be the piece that saves an innocent man.”
“I don’t believe he is innocent.”
“But-”
“I’ve seen Granny’s case. I don’t see how it could possibly have been anyone else.”
“Then why?”
