Thyme of Death (33 page)

“Because Roz’s affair would’ve given
Jane the leverage she needed to declare herself a player in the Disney deal
and to keep Roz from pursuing the audit.”

“Which would have put the shoe on
the other foot,” Ruby said. “It would have given Roz a good reason to kill
Jane.”

“Well, there go the letters,”
Meredith said, watching the flames eat the last piece of paper. “I think Mother
would be pleased.”

Ruby frowned. “I don’t understand
why the D.A. didn’t charge Jane with both murders. It doesn’t seem right,
letting her off so light.”

“Sometimes the law takes what it can
get,” I said. “The best the D.A. figured he could do was a plea bargain—Jane
pleads guilty to Violett’s second-degree murder. In return, the D.A. doesn’t
pursue an indictment in Roz’s death.”

“But she’s getting away with it!”
Ruby protested angrily.

“Sure,” I said. “That’s why it’s
called a bargain. If I were the D.A., I might’ve gone for first degree on both.
But I see his problem. Without a full confession—which Jane is too tough and
too smart to give— the case against her for poisoning Roz is entirely circumstantial.
There’s also the political heat. Senator Keenan’s been leaning on the D.A. He
wants this thing wrapped up as fast and as quietly as possible.”

“It would have been different if
Violett had talked before she died,” Ruby muttered. “Then Jane couldn’t have
gotten away with it.”

“Yes,” Meredith said, “but if she
talked, she would have revealed Roz’s relationship to Mother.  So I guess—” She
didn’t finish her sentence.

“What’s the maximum Jane can get for
second-degree murder?” Ruby asked.

‘Twenty-one years,” I said. “When
she finishes serving that term, she’ll face more time in New York—if the D.A.
there runs up enough evidence to make an embezzlement charge stick.” I’d talked
to Roz’s secretary on the phone. It sounded like the auditors already had
enough to build a case.

“I think we did the right thing,
deciding not to pursue the matter of Mother’s murder,” Meredith reflected,
watching the flames die away. “It’s likely that she had only a few more months
to live. This way, she died painlessly, quietly, without being hospitalized
again or having to be dependent on other people. Maybe Roz did for her what
Mother was planning to do for herself. Final exit.”

“Yes, but there’s the airport,” Ruby
reminded us unhappily. “Jo knew something that could have stopped the airport,
and the secret died with her.”

Meredith laughed. “Maybe it didn’t,”
she said. “Mother got a letter yesterday from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service.” She took an official-looking envelope out of the top drawer of Jo’s
desk and began to read.

Dear Ms.
Gilbert:

Subsequent
to the receipt of your letter of September 25, ornithologists from the Fish
and Wildlife Division conducted a preliminary survey of the acreage described.
It has been determined as a result of this survey that the findings reported by
you are substantially accurate, thus confirming that the aforesaid acreage is
subject to likely designation as prime habitat of the golden-cheeked warbler.
This office is proceeding to implement appropriate measures under the existing
regulations on a priority basis. Thank you for calling this matter to our
attention.

Very truly
yours,

Douglas C.
Arbingast

Regional
Director

Ruby looked at me. “So
that’s
what
a little bird told Jo,” she said.

“I get the general drift,” Meredith
said, “but exactly what is a golden-cheeked warbler?”

I grinned. “It’s a rare bird that
nests in a limited area. It comes under the protection of the Endangered Species
Act. A developer can’t cut down, dig up, or pave over its habitat without an
act of Congress.”

Meredith laughed. “So what this
letter really says is bye-bye airport.”

Ruby nodded. “That bird has already
shot down a couple of big developments around Austin. When Arnold’s buddies
realize how much red tape they have to cut to make the airport fly, their
dollars will evaporate like a mud puddle in August.”

I stared at Ruby. It was the most
impressive group of mixed metaphors I’d ever heard assembled in one place.

Meredith folded the letter and put
it back in the envelope. “Way to go, Mom,” she said quietly, and sat down by
the fire again.

After a few minutes I asked, “When
are you leaving?”

“Next week,” Meredith replied. “I
turned in my resignation, and I’m going out to Flagstaff for an interview. I’ve
been thinking how nice it would be to find a little place in the mountains.”
She nodded in Ruby’s direction. “We can’t close the house until after probate,
but the new owner’s anxious to move in.”

Ruby looked around. “I’ve got some
redecorating to do: I hope you won’t mind.”

Meredith shrugged. “The place is
yours,” she said. “I’m happy, because I don’t have very good memories of it.
And Mother would be thrilled, especially if you fix that kitchen light.” She
turned to me. “What’s going to happen to Violett’s place?”

“Violett left everything to the
Humane Society,” I said, “with the stipulation that her animals be placed in
good homes.”

“Dottie Riddle is taking all of the
cats,” Ruby said, “as if she didn’t have enough already.” Dottie is Pecan
Springs’ cat lady. She has dozens of her own and she feeds countless strays
around the university. “Except for Pudding, of course,” Ruby added. “China
adopted him. And I’m taking the canary.”

I shuddered. “Cat,” I said. “His
name is Cat. And it’s the other way around. He adopted me.” It was true. I
still wasn’t keen on cats, but this one had decided to come home with me and I
don’t have what it takes to argue with him. He is a cat of great determination.
“The Humane Society can’t be getting much out of it,” Meredith said. “Violett
didn’t have more than a few thousand dollars in the bank, did she?”

“Don’t bet on it,” I said. “Violett
has a legitimate claim against Roz for copyright infringement. Charlie Lipton,
who’s representing Violett’s estate and the Humane Society, has contacted Roz’s
lawyers and Disney’s lawyers, and they’re thrashing it out. I assume it’ll be
settled out of court—in about ten years. The wheels of justice grind
exceedingly slowly.”

“But they do grind,” Meredith said.

“Yes,” I said. “And I suppose when
you get down to it, justice was pretty well served in this case.”

“But not by the law,” Ruby said.

“No,” I said. “Not by the law.”