Deep Without Pity | Page 8

been given out yet, so I'm afraid that's
no help."
"It's help," I said, "but I wish you could have narrowed it down a bit
more."
"That's the breaks, kid. Now what about that scoop?"
"I'll let you know. 'Bye."
So there I sat. Not at a dead end, but facing an endless field of
possibility. The bond issue mayor may not have been important; it had
been on his desk when he was killed, but I had no way of knowing
what it meant.
I looked at my cards, and I was holding no suspects, no clues, and
didn't even have a long suit. It was time to get some help.

VI
I still had friends at the county jail, and they hustled Marion King into a
visitor's booth for me in no time at all. I could tell from her bearing that
she was merely allowing the guard to lead her. She had a lot of dignity
and authority in her walk. They were obviously treating her with
respect; she was still in her street clothes and her long brown hair was
neatly brushed out. Her eyes looked dull and resigned, but she gave me
a weary smile anyway. "My guard thinks pretty highly of you," she said.
She was naturally gracious, had an instinctive ability to put people at
their ease.
"I try to get along," I smiled. She was a handsome woman, with a sort
of strength that denied the years that were visible in her face. She
settled herself in the chair beyond the glass and waited.
"I'm not sure where to start," I said, "but if it means anything to you, I

know your husband was not involved with Charlene Desmond."
Her mouth made an ugly line across her face. "Tell me something new.
Jason would no more have had that tramp for a mistress than he would
have robbed a bank. He just didn't have it in him."
"Just how do you mean that?" I asked, intrigued by the hint of
resentment in her tone.
She sighed. "You've met Jeff, so I think you can understand. Jason was
very much like Jeff, without the religious mania. That's why they didn't
get along--they were so similar. Both of them were so demanding, so
harsh, even toward themselves. There were times when I wished Jason
would have taken a mistress, anything, just to get him out of his shell.
But I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to my discontents." She was
the hostess again, detached from her surroundings.
"On the contrary. I'll take any information I can get right now. Do you
have any idea who might have killed your husband?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sloane, but I never kept up with my husband's
business."
"Couldn't it have been somebody from his personal life?"
"What personal life? If he had someone over to the house it was either
in connection with the county or with his construction work."
"He was still active in construction, then?"
"Only as a consultant. Anything else would have constituted conflict of
interest. Not that he couldn't have gotten away with it, of course, this is
Texas, but my husband was a very scrupulous man."
"Why did you move out on him, then, if you'll pardon my asking?"
"I didn't move out. I went to stay with my sister because she was ill.
Jason hardly cared whether I was there or not, and both of us knew the
scandal was nonsense. I saw no reason to stay around simply to avoid

gossip."
"I'd like to talk with your sister. Where does she live?"
"Off Cameron Road, north of the airport." She gave me the address.
"Her name is Jenny Shaw. She lives alone. That's why she needed me."
I was silent for a moment, looking at the sunlight through the
intersecting lines of the barred window.
"Do you--" Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. "Do you think
they'll convict me?"
I shrugged. "It would help if you'd tell me what you know."
She looked me in the eyes and said, "I already have." It was not too bad,
but she shouldn't have pulled her eyes away at the end. I stared at her
for a minute, but it was no use. I wasn't going to get anything more out
of her.
"If you think of anything else that might help at all, tell your guard.
She'll get word to me somehow." I couldn't shake the feeling that she
was hiding something, but I had no clue as to how to get at it.
The sergeant at the desk let me use the phone. "Jeffrey? This is Dan
Sloane."
"How are you? Any news?" He didn't sound particularly concerned.
He and Winslow had both given me scenarios of the