Page 39 of Judas

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After Lydia was calm enough to return to her desk, Judas set out of the office for the day. The elevator seemed slower today and it annoyed him. He was anxious to get back to the hospital and to be rid of the gnawing in his gut. Having hundreds of years of experience told him the feeling of restlessness wasn’t something he could ignore. His intuition told him that Chet was the shooter and there wasn’t any doubt in his mind. The problem was he couldn’t find evidence that the partner had been inside the building in the last twenty-four hours. He was missing something. As the faint ding of the elevator rang, a lightbulb went off in his head.

Judas researched Paul Arthur thoroughly before his interview. The prospective state senator ranked thirty-third in his Odessa High School class of 1982. He graduated Texas Christian University with a bachelors of business administration before attending law school at Baylor.

While studying to be a lawyer, Paul married Catherine Douglas, a debutante from a wealthy family who had their fingers in most all aspects of Texas life including oil drilling. She was a full-time nursing student and part-time beauty queen. Paul was completely smitten. Their only child, a daughter, was born three weeks after Paul received his degree.

Two years later, Paul and his law school buddy, Chet Branson opened their firm, Arthur and Branson, specializing in real estate and tax law. The business rolled in and the pair easily found themselves at the top of the Dallas social hierarchy. Judas found their names in numerous newspaper articles and even on the cover of a few local and professional magazines. To anyone, whether in their inner circle or from an outsider’s perspective, all is well both personally and professionally.

The question hung in the air: Where did it go wrong?

Judas followed the turn by turn directions of the car’s navigation system. Turning into a sloped circle drive surrounded by lush foliage, he eased the Audi to a stop in front of Paul Arthur’s home. He sat for a moment staring at the crime scene tape and contemplating his next move.

He considered for a moment that Eliza might not like him snooping around her father's home but under the circumstances, he had to be sure that his gut was correct. Something between Chet and Paul occurred here, he was positive. Checking his surroundings, he jogged up the brick staircase to the front landing. After cutting the seal with a small pocket knife, Judas used its tip and his American Express card to open the door.

The foyer looked much like it had the night he and Eliza poured Paul into his bed to sleep off his overindulgence with the exception that every surface seemed to be covered with a light layer of powder in a variety of colors. Judas realized that the Dallas police department was exceptionally thorough with fingerprinting every exposed area of the house; at least when it came to a well-known political candidate. Moving carefully, he walked into Paul's study just off the foyer.

The room was a complete wreck with overturned tables and papers strewn over the floor. As Judas walked deeper into the chaos, he noticed a large pool of dried blood staining the usuallyornate ornamental rug just under the picture window. It was too much blood to be from any of his injuries individually and he knew it must have been where Paul was found. Turning back to the ornate desk, Judas reenacted the scene in his mind.

Paul was sitting in an armchair either working or reading when the assailant, Chet, entered the home. Startled, Paul asked his friend what he was doing there and it was then that Chet raised the gun, pointing it at his colleague. Did Paul stand? Or did he sit very still staring at the gun? Judas saw that the chair had the tiniest bit of splatter, so he must have stood. He probably confronted Chet, either demanding to know why or perhaps he pleaded for his life. Either way, he takes two steps forward before Chet fires the gun. The scattering of books and paperwork indicated that Paul turned his back to run, but was shot again, this time falling into the corner of a heavy-looking side table, head first.

The scene showed him everything except the reason why. Judas rifled through some of the papers scattered on the floor, but nothing jumped out at him. After intentionally wandering downstairs and not seeing anything else out of place, Judas decided his detour was also a dead end. Slipping out the front door, he looked around one last time just to be sure he left everything as it was when he arrived. It was then he saw it. The tiny slip of paper was wedged in the delicate branches of a neatly trimmed Boxwood.

It looked like trash, but Judas knew that Paul was a control freak. He would never allow any amount of refuse to collect or remain on his very expensive landscaping. Stretching his arm through the slats of the handrail of the landing, Judas plucked the paper from the evergreen.

Unfolding it, he saw it was a note, clearly in Paul's handwriting.Dra, 469-555-4495. It seemed meaningless, but he decided to keep it anyway. It could be a clue or it could beworthless, right now he didn't know which. Stuffing it in his pocket, Judas slid back into his car. The engine revved as he sped away from the quiet neighborhood to find Eliza.

Chapter twenty-six

“Dad, I need you to wake up,” Eliza pleaded softly, stroking her father’s hand. The small room was alive with the beeping, buzzing, and dings of medical equipment. The wood and vinyl chair butted as close to Paul’s bed as she could make it, Eliza positioned herself so she would be the first thing he saw when he woke.

Ifhe woke.

She couldn’t allow the thought to cross her tired mind. She focused her attention on the rise and fall of his chest and any movement of his eyes. If she could have willed it, she would have made them open. Yawning wide, Eliza’s body fought the urge to sleep.

“Dad, please,” she whispered.

“You should probably go home for a while,” a deep voice spoke behind her. It was familiar and comforting like hot tea on a rainy day.

Turning quickly, a smile couldn’t help but spread over her lips, “Judas.”

“Can we talk? Somewhere… not here?” his brow furrowed. His eyes darted from where Paul lay back to her.

Nodding, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to guide her out of the room. They walked in abated silence through halls until arriving at an empty surgery waiting area. Judas looked around and seeing no one, he opened a door to a small room labeledQuiet Room.

Eliza’s eyes gazed into his, looking worried, “You don’t look like you got much sleep… if any.”

Shaking his head, he motioned to her to sit, “I didn’t. I have some information and I need to tell you before I say anything to the authorities.”

“What?” her heart raced. She couldn’t imagine what he might know; he had only been gone for… what, six hours? It felt like weeks. But she had to admit that her mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders, as it were. She’d only had an hour of sleep in the last day. She remained standing because she didn’t think her ass could handle any more of the uncomfortableness the hospital seats provided.

Judas cleared his throat, “When I returned home, I found a check someone put under the door of my apartment. It was for five-thousand dollars with a note of thanks in the memo line.

Eliza’s head twitched as though she was shooing a fly, “I don’t understand. Who from?”

“That’s the thing…it’s signed by your dad. But, it’s printed… like off the computer,” he stared into her tired eyes. “Eliza, you know your dad doesn’t pay me like that and certainly not for that amount. Then there's the phone call I received before all this happened.”

She frowned, “From?”

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