Read Online Uncivil Seasons by Michael Malone - Free Book Online Page A

no one had ever heard of her; if he secretly owed millions, so far I hadn’t found out to whom, and at this point he had as much money as Cloris did anyhow. Even if they’d used the estate she’d inherited from Bainton Ames to help build Rowell’s career, the perks and payoffs of that career were now worth considerably more than his wife’s private possessions. If he secretly hated her, Hillston hadn’t noticed. Rumor was, among Cloris’s many friends, that as a bachelor Dollard had “worshiped” her even when she’d been married to Bainton Ames. They told me now, “He loved her just the same ’til the day she died.” They thought it was the most tragic thing they’d ever heard, for death to part the Dollards after all Cloris had suffered, and when Rowell was destined for even greater office.
    Standing there in the foyer under the donated gilt chandeliers, I noticed how Rowell’s eyes, which were somewhat protuberant—pressing forward, like his voice and his manner—tonight looked sunk back in his skull, their color dead in his florid face. I said, “Rowell, do you want to see the report on the arrest?”
    He hesitated, also unlike him, then answered, “No, just tell me.” I gave a summary of Preston Pope’s statement while he stared past me down the empty corridor of closed doors and at the courtroom doors behind us, the doors—he had told me so often—to Washington.
    We stood alone in the middle of the big marble floor. When I finished talking, he asked, “But you don’t share this Mangum’s opinion, do you? About Pope?”
    “I’m not sure yet.”
    “I see. Walk me to my car, Justin, all right? By the way, your mother mentioned something odd tonight. She said you were out to see Joanna Cadmean earlier. Something about her wanting to talk to you about Cloris.” He paused for my response, but I made none, because I wasn’t certain what I wanted to say, and he added, “I can’t think why. As far as I know, Cloris and Joanna Cadmean hadn’t met in years.” He waited again. “I did notice she visited,” he stumbled, “the grave. It surprised me at the time.”
    “Isn’t that why Mrs. Cadmean came to Hillston, for the services?”
    “No! I’m sure she’s just here to see her in-laws. She’s staying out at the compound with the youngest Cadmean girl, isn’t she? The one that teaches at the university?” Dollard walked toward old Cadmean’s portrait, then hurried back, as if he couldn’t think standing still.
    “Briggs,” I said.
    “Typical of old Briggs to name a daughter after himself. I don’t think he liked any of his sons.”
    “I don’t think his daughter likes him. Mother told me tonight on the phone that Briggs moved out to the lake because she couldn’t stand to live in that brick mausoleum with her father.”
    We crossed to the tall, brass-trimmed front doors. Outside, rain had already started washing the slush over the steps and into the sidewalk gutters; by morning there’d be no trace of the aber rant snowstorm.
    Rowell was tapping the umbrella’s silver knob against his lips. “Did Joanna Cadmean say what she wanted to know?”
    “She wanted to know if Cloris kept a diary. Did she?”
    “A diary?” He was surprised. “Why? No, Cloris didn’t keep a diary.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course, I’m sure! Cloris was a totally…open person. She always left everything out where anybody could see it. I would have known. She would have
read
it to me.” He kept shaking his head. “What did she mean, a diary?”
    I decided to tell him. “Mrs. Cadmean says your wife told her in a dream to look at a diary.”
    Thoughts were shifting through his eyes as he stared at me. The eyes looked angry; but then, they often did.
    “She said she dreamt Cloris came to her and said she’d been murdered, and told her to read the diary.”
    Rowell began pacing again, tapping the umbrella tip loudly on the marble.
    I added, “She described details I just don’t see how she