Redress of Grievances Read online

  "I suppose so."

  "Is there anything you can tell me in your own defense?"

  "How are my children?"

  "I haven't met with your family yet, Mrs. Taggart. I only arrived in Dallas this afternoon, but I'll speak to them in the morning."

  "They won't let me have pictures of Kevin and Laurel with me. Can you make them let me have them?"

  "I'll see what I can do. Can you explain your fingerprints on the weapon?"

  "It's Frank's, but I've touched it."

  "Your husband's fingerprints weren't on it. Can you explain why?"

  Sharon seemed to be concentrating on the table's Formica top intently before she looked up and stared into Harriett's eyes.

  "Look, I'm tired of answering questions. Just get the pictures of the kids, okay?" Sharon said with a sudden forcefulness in her voice.

  Leaning forward slightly, Harriett said, "I'll get them if the police will allow you to have them."

  A twisted smile crossed Sharon's face, "Are they afraid I'll kill myself with a paper cut?"

  "I should make my position clear to you, Mrs. Taggart. If I take your case, you have to be absolutely honest with me. You can't hold anything back if you expect me to represent you. I can't..."

  "I know," Sharon said leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. "I know you can't reveal anything I tell you. I'm perfectly aware of my rights and my relationship with my attorney. I'm not a moron, Ms. Markham."

  Sharon's eyes slowly lowered until they coolly met Harriett's again.

  "It wasn't my intention to be condescending, Mrs. Taggart. But since I don't know you very well yet, I thought I should explain everything as fully as possible."

  Sharon shook her head and sighed. "It's all right. If I don't understand something, I'll ask you to clarify if for me. Just check on the pictures, okay?"

  "I will."

  "And please call me Sharon. That way I'll feel like you're on my side."

  "I am on your side, Sharon. You might already know this, but you are the client. I won't take orders from your husband or your parents, or anyone else. If there is a disagreement over my handling of your case, you're the only person who can dismiss me and request a new attorney."

  "Well, that's refreshing to hear," Sharon mumbled almost to herself. "Don't you work for Winston and Dunne?" she asked in a stronger voice.

  "No. I have a practice in Austin. They've referred your case to me."

  "You came all the way up here for my case?"

  "Alexis Dunne is an old friend."

  "Nice woman, but that partner of hers was a bitch."

  "I wouldn't know about that, Sharon. Is there anything else I can get for you besides the pictures?"

  "No, I'm fine. Actually, it's very peaceful here."

  HARRIETT LEFT THE Allen Center the same way she had entered and drove back to the Hyatt. As she was getting out of her truck, she saw Alex's Mercedes parked nearby. Still carrying her briefcase, she entered the hotel and glanced around the lobby. On her way to the elevator she passed the hotel bar and saw Alex sitting alone at a table against the far wall. Holding the briefcase in front of her, Harriett entered the bar. Alex seemed to be engrossed in reading a folder full of paperwork on the table in front of her.

  "Would you like some company, or is this your favorite new hideaway?" Harriett asked.

  Alex looked up at Harriett and removed her glasses. "I didn't see you come in. Please, join me," she said as she signaled to a waitress. "How did it go?"

  "Hard to tell. She's a little spacey," Harriett answered as she pulled a chair closer to the table.

  A young woman came to their table, holding a tray in her hand. "Refill, ma'am?"

  "No, I'm fine. But please bring a Chivas on the rocks for Ms. Markham," Alex said. As soon as the woman left the table, Alex turned her attention back to Harriett. "Spacey in what way?"

  "She seems fixated on her children right now. I arranged for her to get pictures of them from her wallet before I left. Other than that, she didn't have much to tell me. Didn't know the last victim, admitted she and her husband owned a Browning and that she knew how to use it. Couldn't remember where they kept the ammo. Likes you. Didn't like Gwen."

  "Sounds like an eclectic conversation."

  "It was," Harriett said as the waitress set her drink down.

  "Thank you," Alex said, handing a bill to the waitress. "Keep the change."

  "Are you leaning toward taking or rejecting the case?"

  "I haven't reached the leaning stage yet. I want to interview her family first."

  "Have you eaten dinner?"

  "Uh-uh. I'll order something from room service," Harriett said as she picked up her drink.

  "Why don't you let me buy you dinner?"

  "I'm pretty tired tonight, Alex. Maybe another time. I have to call Lacey before it gets too late."

  Alex finished her drink in one swallow and took a deep breath. "I'd like to see you while you're in Dallas, Harriett."

  "You've seen me all day," Harriett said, sipping her drink.

  "I'd like for us to be friends again."

  "We are, Alex."

  Leaning back in her chair, Alex smiled whimsically at Harriett. "You're going to make this difficult, and I can't say I blame you. I shouldn't have let you leave Dallas eleven years ago."

  "It was the right thing to do. Look, I'm here to review a case, not to rekindle old relationships. I loved you once, Alex, probably more than I should have, but I'm not ready to pick up where we left off. I'm sorry. If I take this case, I can't have it mixed up with a personal agenda."

  Alex nodded. "I understand."

  Harriett finished her drink and took a deep breath. "I'd better get some rest tonight. Seven will get here pretty early."

  As she stood up, Harriett felt a little dizzy and gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. "I'd better get some food pretty quick unless you slipped something in my drink a la Jared Wilkes."

  "Not my style," Alex laughed as she rose from her chair. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

  "I usually hold my liquor better than this."

  "When was the last time you ate?"

  "When we stopped for lunch."

  "That was nine hours ago."

  Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, Harriett fished the room key from her purse and opened the door.

  "Thanks, Alex," she said as the door opened. "I'll be fine now."

  Alex reached inside and switched on a light. Taking Harriett's briefcase, she said, "Go take a shower, and I'll order up something for you. I'll be gone before you're out of the shower."

  Not feeling inclined to argue with her, Harriett dropped her purse on the bed and pulled her boots off before making her way toward the bathroom. As she closed the bathroom door, she heard Alex ordering a hot roast beef sandwich from room service, which was one of her favorites.

  When she came out of the bathroom draped in a hotel bathrobe, Alex was gone, just as she said she would be. The carpeting felt good under her bare feet as she ran a comb through her wet hair. There had been a time when food would have been the last thing on her mind if she had been alone in a hotel room with Alex. Even now, if she allowed herself to think about being alone with her, she felt a faint but familiar tingling sensation along her thighs, remembering Alex's touch, tender and light. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door announcing the arrival of her sandwich.

  Chapter Eleven

  DRESSED IN A powder blue slack suit over a white silk blouse, Harriett stepped off the eleventh floor elevator and into the familiar world of Winston and Dunne. She turned down a back hallway to avoid the waiting room where Sharon Taggart's family was seated and entered the large conference room. Pressing a button on the conference table, she waited to see who answered.

  "Good morning, Ms. Markham," Eleanor's voice came back.

  "Good morning, Eleanor," Harriett smiled. "Who's up first?"

  "Mr. Taggart. Says he has to get to work."
/>   "Then trot him in, and see if you can round up some coffee, please."

  "Right away," Eleanor said.

  A moment later, the conference room door opened and Frank Taggart walked toward Harriett. Extending her hand, she introduced herself and offered him a seat. Frank ran a hand through his thinning hair and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

  "I'm just going to be asking you a few preliminary questions this morning, Mr. Taggart," Harriett began.

  "You're sizing us up to see whether you're gonna take the case or not, aren't you?"

  "In a way. I don't know very much about your wife, and the more I know, the more I'll be able to help her later on."

  "You're gonna take the case then?"

  "I'm inclined to."

  "Even if she's guilty?"

  "Most of my clients are, Mr. Taggart. But if I don't think I can help her, or if there is a conflict between Sharon and me, then I'm not the right attorney for her."

  "Okay. Ask away."

  Eleanor came through the back door of the conference room and set a carafe of coffee and several cups on the table.

  "Thank you, Eleanor," Harriett smiled.

  "There's cream and sugar on the credenza," Eleanor said as she left the room.

  "How long have you and Sharon been married, Mr. Taggart?"

  "Eight years."

  "How did you meet?"

  "When I repaired her car. I'm a mechanic."

  "How would you characterize your marriage?"

  Frank looked at her.

  "Is it a good marriage?" Harriett clarified.

  "It's had its moments, but it's not exactly like you'd see in some romantic movie where everyone lives happily ever after."

  "Has your marriage changed over the last eight years?"

  "We got two kids, so yeah, it's changed."

  "Sharon's very concerned about her children, Mr. Taggart. You might want to consider letting them see her."

  "I'm not taking them down there and letting them see their mother in jail. No way."

  "I can arrange for her to see them in another part of the building if you'd like."

  "I'll think about it."

  "Sharon said the Browning the police confiscated belongs to you. Is that correct?"

  "Yeah, it was a Christmas present a couple of years ago."

  "From Sharon."

  "Yeah."

  "Has she ever fired it?"

  "I took her out a couple of times. She doesn't like to hunt, so I took her to a firing range."

  "Is she a good shot?"

  "A regular Annie Oakley."

  "Can she hit moving as well as stationary targets?"

  "You shoot?"

  "Afraid not."

  "Well, they got these little round things about the size of a half dollar and painted orange. They swing them back and forth at different speeds and out of synch."

  "And she could hit those?"

  "Didn't miss a one."

  "About how far was she from these moving targets?"

  "Oh, forty or fifty yards. Maybe a little more."

  "Were you impressed with her shooting ability?"

  "I guess so. Didn't think much of it."

  "Sharon told me she was at home with you on January eighteenth when the last shooting took place. Can you verify that?"

  "Yeah, we were home. We all ate dinner, watched a little TV. Sharon usually gets the kids in the sack around eight or eight-thirty."

  "Then what?"

  Frank smiled and shrugged, "Then I tried to hustle her into bed. You know, enjoy a little rec time."

  "So you and Sharon made love that evening," Harriett said.

  "I said I tried, but she said she was too tired. One thing led to another, and we had a spat about it. I finally gave up and went to bed alone."

  "When did Sharon come to bed?"

  "Couldn't tell you. She was there when I woke up the next morning."

  "Does she stay up late by herself often?"

  "All the time. She reads, works on the computer. Does just about anything she can to avoid going to bed with me."

  "Do you think she's avoiding being physically intimate with you?"

  "Sharon's what you'd call frigid. Been that way since Laurel was born. I thought she'd get over it, but so far she hasn't."

  "Are you involved with any other women outside of your home, Mr. Taggart?"

  "You want to know if I'm cheating on my wife?"

  "Yes."

  "I've done a little dippin' over the last couple of years. In fact, it was Sharon who recommended it. She told me once when we had a fight that if I wasn't getting what I needed from her, maybe I should look around and find someone else. She just didn't want to know about it if I did."

  "So you took her suggestion."

  "Yeah. But I never told Sharon about it."

  "Do you think she knew anyway?"

  "I don't think so, but I doubt she'd care. She's changed, especially recently. Distant. Argumentative. That kind of thing."

  "I see," Harriett said, making a notation on her pad.

  "I mean once we were horsing around and I grabbed her from behind, just playing around. At first she was laughing. Then I wouldn't let her go when she wanted me to. The woman went berserk. Fought like a tiger and nearly crushed my instep by stomping on it with the heel of her shoe."

  "Did you ask her about that?"

  "She just said she couldn't stand being grabbed from behind and not being able to get away. Claustrophobia or something, I guess."

  "Did she ever behave that way again?"

  "Nope. And I never grabbed her and held her like that again, either. Sometimes, I'd try to walk up behind her and get a little grab, you know. She hated it."

  "You continued to do it knowing she didn't like it?"

  "She's my wife. I've got a right to do some grabbing if I want."

  "Do you regard your wife as property?"

  "A wife should be willing to have sex with her husband, don't you think?"

  "If she wants it, I suppose so."

  "You one of them feminist bra burners, Ms. Markham?"

  "No," she smiled. "Were there any other times when your wife acted differently or erratically?"

  "Can't think of nothing right now."

  Harriett stood up and extended her hand to Taggart again. "If you think of anything else you think I should know, please feel free to contact me through the offices here, Mr. Taggart."

  As Taggart left, Harriett jotted down a few quick notes before pressing the intercom button and asking for the next relative, Sharon Taggart's mother, Clarissa Parker Collins.

  Clarissa Collins was a walking advertisement for good breeding and the social graces. She was impeccably dressed as she entered the conference room, standing tall and erect, her posture straight enough to balance a book on her head.

  "Mrs. Collins," Harriett said as she greeted the woman who appeared to be in her mid-sixties, "Harriett Markham. I've been asked by Winston and Dunne to consider taking your daughter's case."

  "Of course. But if you don't think you'll take it, I don't know why I should be talking to you."

  "Right now, I'm trying to get a clearer picture of Sharon as a person, and even though I haven't officially notified the court that I will be her counsel, anything you tell me will still remain confidential," Harriett explained.

  Clarissa Collins brushed off the seat of a chair with a handkerchief and perched herself on the edge of the chair, crossing her thin legs at the ankles.

  "I don't know how I can assist you, Ms. Markham. I wasn't with Sharon on the night in question."

  "What kind of person would you say Sharon is, Mrs. Collins?"

  "She's a nice enough girl, has always been very obedient."

  "Never rebellious, even as a teenager?"

  "No, never."

  "Never got mad or lost control of herself?"

  "Once. She was angry with me, as usual."

  "Why do you say as usual?"

  "I think Sharon resent
ed me for encouraging her to be more social. She didn't enjoy going out that much. It made her an excellent student, but she lacked the social graces one can only acquire through interacting with others."

  "She didn't date much then?"

  "I can't remember more than once or twice, and they were both younger than she. Hardly what I had expected."

  "How did you feel when she got married?"

  Clarissa leaned forward slightly and glanced around to make sure no one else was in the room.

  "I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was relieved when she got married. On the other hand, I wasn't particularly pleased with her choice. Frank doesn't really fit in."

  "Why were you relieved?"

  "It may sound foolish, Ms. Markham, but when a woman remains single as long as Sharon did and never goes out with men, people begin to talk, you know."

  "You thought Sharon was a lesbian?"

  "It crossed my mind, but thank God I was wrong. Are you married, Ms. Markham?" Clarissa asked.

  "No," Harriett smiled.

  Clarissa leaned away from her slightly. "I see."

  "Probably not," Harriett muttered under her breath. "Is there anything in particular you dislike about Sharon's husband?"

  "He's not very bright, although he thinks he is. Sharon is exceptionally intelligent, has a very high IQ, and I have never understood why she chose to throw it all away on a man like Frank Taggart."

  "Perhaps it was a physical attraction."

  "I suppose it must have been something."

  "You mentioned that Sharon got mad and lost control once as a teenager."

  "Yes, we argued, which was unlike Sharon. She never talked back to adults. I made sure of that. But she became extremely angry. When she turned to leave the room, she lashed out with her fist. Actually made a hole in the wall."

  "Really?"

  "And broke her hand in the process. I told her that violence like that always hurts the person who is angry."

  "You think it's better to suppress your anger?"

  "Absolutely. Once you calm down and think about what made you angry to begin with, it's never as bad as you thought it was."

  "I'm surprised you haven't developed an ulcer, Mrs. Collins. Venting anger is a very natural thing and considered to be quite healthy."

  "Unless you take that anger out on members of your own family. I taught both my children that it's wrong to use violence against members of your own family, no matter how much they aggravate you. As a result, I'm confident that neither of them would ever abuse their children nor tolerate it from a spouse."