LITMIR.BIZ

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two hoots about the things that were precious to him. “A bunch of old junk,” she’d once said of the priceless antiques that adorned each of the twelve rooms in their home. All the rooms, that is, except her bedroom. She had decorated that room in a garish nineteen-twenties art deco style that made him feel nauseated every time he entered her private quarters.

      His wife might physically resemble her older sister, but that was where the similarities ended. Carolyn was a lady, through and through. Genteel, in the way Jeff Henry’s mother had been. A gentleman never used a curse word in her presence, because it would shock and offend her. Carolyn was a fragile flower to be cherished and protected from the harsh realities of the world. Ah, dear, sweet Carolyn. He had loved her madly when they’d been young, but she had thought of him only as a friend. She had wanted no one but Webb Porter. And what Carolyn wanted, Carolyn got. Who could deny such a woman anything?

      He supposed that, in a way, he was still in love with Carolyn. But it was a pure love, untainted by anything physical. His love for her was a noble thing, much like that of the knights of old for their fair damsels. Carolyn was a part of his heart. That would have to be enough. She was devoted to Webb and would never leave him.

      Jeff Henry sighed as he picked up one of Judy’s homemade oatmeal cookies. He knew he shouldn’t be nibbling, but he’d smelled the cookies baking when he passed the kitchen a half hour ago. In the past few years, he’d acquired a bit of a paunch, but a few extra pounds didn’t hurt a man’s appearance the way it did a woman’s. Some people might consider him vain, but he wasn’t. He simply prided himself on his appearance. Cybil told him that his factitiousness drove her crazy.

      Well, truth be told, everything about his wife drove him crazy. It hadn’t always been that way. Not in the beginning. When they had first married, she’d tried to please him. He’d been convinced that she actually cared for him.

      “I did my best to be like Carolyn,” she’d told him. “I knew I wasn’t your first choice. I tried, damn it. I tried so hard, but it was never enough. I’m not Carolyn and you’ve never let me forget it.”

      He’d made a serious mistake marrying Cybil, but he dealt with things the best he could. He turned a blind eye to her indiscretions. At least she had tried to be discreet about her numerous affairs; he was thankful for that much. The Carlisles didn’t believe in divorce. There had never been a divorce in the family, and he most certainly had no intention of breaking that tradition. Perhaps once he would have considered it, if Carolyn had been free. Poor Carolyn, married to a man who didn’t deserve her, a man who made a mockery of their marriage. But she was happy in her delusional state, and he would do anything—absolutely anything—to make sure nothing and no one ever ruined that happiness for her.

      “Mr. Carlisle?” A woman’s voice broke into his thoughts.

      He glanced at the open pocket doors leading into the hallway and saw Judy Conway standing there. An attractive woman, if you liked the sexual, earthy type. “Yes, what is it?”

      “I’m leaving for the day,” she said. “Dinner is prepared. The roast and vegetables are in the oven and the salad is in the refrigerator. Will you need anything else before I go?”

      “Has Mrs. Carlisle come home?”

      “No, sir, she hasn’t.”

      “Hmm…”

      “I’ll be going now—”

      “Yes. Certainly.” He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m sure you’re eager to go home and spend some time with your son.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “I do hope you understand why I couldn’t recommend that any of my friends give Reed a job. I realize you were disappointed when I refused, but in all good conscience—”

      “I understand.” The tension in her voice said that although she might understand, she didn’t forgive. “Reed has a job with his cousin Briley Joe.”

      “At the garage?”

      “Yes. It’s honest work. Not quite what I’d hoped for, considering Reed has a college degree. But it was the only job he could find. No one would help him except family.”

      Judy’s gaze didn’t quite meet Jeff Henry’s. Her reluctance to look him directly in the eye bothered him. He liked Judy and had a certain amount of respect for the woman. He thought she had always regarded him highly, and he valued her opinion of him. A man should be respected and liked by his employees. That had been his father’s opinion and his grandfather’s before him. For generations the Carlisles had been benevolent employers.

      “Once Reed proves himself, I could be persuaded to reconsider and perhaps help him find more suitable employment. If he stays out of trouble for, let’s say, a year, we’ll discuss my helping him.”

      Judy smiled, but the effort seemed false, as if she had forced herself to respond in a positive manner.

      “Thank you, Mr. Carlisle. I’m sure Reed will stay out of trouble. He knows how much is at stake.”

      “I wish him well. Personally, you know that I always thought he should have been rewarded for killing Junior Blalock instead of having been sent to prison.”

      “Reed didn’t kill Junior. He was innocent.”

      “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sure, being his mother, that’s what you’d like to believe.”

      Judy laid her clutched fist over her heart. “It’s what I know. In here.”

      Jeff Henry cleared his throat. “You have a good night, you hear? I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “Yes, sir.” She turned and disappeared down the hallway.

      Did Judy still truly believe that her son hadn’t killed her second husband? If so, that meant Reed was still professing his innocence. Merciful goodness. Jeff Henry hoped that didn’t mean Reed was going to stir up trouble. It just wouldn’t do for the past to be revisited. If that happened, there was no telling who might wind up getting hurt.

      No doubt by now she had found the letter that had been placed on her desk while her secretary had been down the hall on an errand. How had Ella reacted when she’d read the letter? Had she been shocked? Had she known immediately who’d written it? Was she at this very minute showing it to her father?

      A self-satisfied smile curled moist lips. Ella was such a predictable creature. She would run to Webb and cry for her daddy’s help. Some nasty man sent me this vulgar letter. Do something about it immediately.

      Of course, one letter wouldn’t be enough. There would have to be others. And a few untraceable phone calls—some heavy breathing. One step at a time, building slowly to the point when Webb would know his daughter’s life was at stake. It would actually be fun to watch the senator sweat.

      Nothing meant more to Webb Porter than his precious daughter. He loved her more than anything on earth. More than he’d ever loved his wife. Far more than any of his mistresses. The easiest way to get Webb’s undivided attention was to harass his only child. And that was all it would be at first—just harassment. But later…

      Ella drove past Conway’s garage, which was situated on the corner of West Fifth and Lafayette. Not exactly on her way home, but only a couple of blocks out of her way. She slowed her Jaguar, and with her eyes shaded by sunglasses, she inspected the scene. Two cars were at the pumps, filling up with gas. One of the two large garage doors gaped open to reveal the greasy, cluttered maintenance and repair shop. She caught a glimpse of Briley Joe through the glass front of the building. He was talking to someone she assumed was a customer. Reed’s cousin wore his brown hair shoulder-length and pulled back in a short ponytail. She’d never seen the man wearing anything except jeans, as he did today, and he’d topped off his redneck ensemble with a white T-shirt emblazoned with a colorful emblem of some sort.

      She didn’t see Reed anywhere. No need to stop. She’d have to wait and catch him at work another day. Then, just as she started

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