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“He lives with his father? I thought he was a successful real estate developer.”
“And that’s him,” said Jack, as Walter Gates came out of the front door of the house, got into the convertible, and drove off.
They followed.
“Where do you think he’s going?” asked DuBose.
“Maybe to have a clandestine meeting with Pickett and Ambrose.”
“That’s not funny, Jack,” she said sternly.
“Hell, Desiree, after today, I’m thinking anything is possible.”
They drove for another twenty minutes before the convertible slowed.
“Faulkner’s Woods,” noted Jack.
As Walter Gates approached the gate, the guard there waved to him and opened the portal without checking to see if the man was on a list, as had been the case with DuBose and Jack when they had come for the will reading.
DuBose commented, “Looks like they know him here, which is interesting.”
“Wait here,” said Jack after he’d parked on a side street. He opened the car door.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Can you scale a six-foot-high fence in heels and a dress?”
“Well, don’t let anyone see you. Your being arrested for trespass will not help our case.”
Jack hurried to his left and slipped between two trees that stood next to the fence and well out of sight of the guard. He grabbed the top rail, pulled himself up, and nimbly dropped to the other side onto a soft bed of pine needles.
He quickly walked to the main street, hung a left, and soon found himself on Compson Lane, where the Hanovers lived. He got to their house just about the time the same maid he’d seen on the earlier visit was opening the door for Walter Gates.
Jack didn’t see any sign of Christine, or the Jaguar, but it might be in the garage. He looked around carefully, and then inched up to the garage, the doors of which had windows set at eye level. He saw the Rolls in one bay and the Triumph he had seen earlier in another, but he saw no sign of the Jaguar. So what were Gordon Hanover and Walter Gates meeting about while Christine was absent? There was nothing more he could do without giving himself away, so he left, clambered back over the wall, and returned to DuBose.
“Well?” she asked as he opened the car door.
He told her where Gates had ended up.
“What do we do with this information?” she said. “Call Walter Gates to the stand and ask him what he was doing at the Randolphs’ the day of the murders?”
Jack shook his head. “All we have is Donny’s report that it’s the only blue convertible registered in Freeman County. But Jerome didn’t get the license plate. So we don’t even know if it’s the right car. And maybe someone drove a blue convertible in from outside the county. So Gates says it isn’t his car and we have nothing to hit him back with, unless we put Jerome on the stand, and even that won’t be conclusive. And then Battle gets to tear Jerome apart on cross. It could blow up in our faces.”
“I guess you’re right,” said DuBose. Next, she smiled.
“What?” he said, noting this.
“You’re thinking a lot more strategically now than you were a couple weeks ago.”
“Well, look at my teacher.”
CHAPTER 84
THE FOLLOWING DAY JACK RECALLED Linda Drucker to the stand.
