The Red Scream by Mary Willis Walker

you’re not.”
    She felt it like a kick in the ribs. “Richard!”
    “I’d hate to lose you, Molly, but I am the boss here. I’ve never pulled rank on you before, but I say we’re going to do the piece on Banker Griswold, not Louie-fucking-Bronk.”
    She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her with that macho posturing. Through gritted teeth she said, “Richard, if I didn’t know what an opinionated, snobbish, aesthete you are, I’d really suspect that McFarland got to you on this.”
    She could see by the barely perceptible flinch of a muscle in his cheek that she’d gone too far. His brown-orange eyes narrowed. “Well,” he said in his clipped, mock-British intonation, “if I didn’t know what a death-obsessed, morbid ambulance-chaser you are, I’dsuspect you just want to rake up something new to boost the sales of your book.”
    She felt breathless, as if she’d been flattened by a steamroller. Finally she managed to croak out, “Oh, Richard, I never even thought about book sales.”
    He was breathing heavily. “Molly, I think we need a time-out here. We both need to go back to our corners. Why don’t you hold off on a decision for today.” He walked to the window. “And I need to get a grip on my temper. I really think—” A buzzer on his desk went off. “Damn. Just a minute.”
    Keeping his back to her, he picked up the phone. “What is it?” He listened a minute, turning so Molly could see his smile spreading. “Hold on, Becky,” he said in a light voice, “I’ll see if she’ll take it.”
    Pushing the hold button, he held the receiver out. “For you. Your benefactor. Charlie McFarland calling. From his private plane. Says it’s urgent.”
    Molly took a deep breath and stepped forward to take the phone. As she was raising it to her ear, Richard leaned over and whispered into the other ear, “Be smart, Molly. Tell him you’ll take his offer.” He chuckled and clapped his hands together softly. “Worthy crime writer of the year, indeed. That’s delicious! If you play it right maybe next Charlie’ll set up a retirement home where old crime writers can go in their sunset years.” He went into peals of laughter so loud Molly had to cover her other ear so she could hear McFarland.

chapter 5

    In comes this shrink
    A four-eyed fink
    Asks how I think
    Rinka Dink
    Says he’ll help me
    I should talk free.
    Was I damaged at birth?
    Born under a curse?
    Or something worse?
    Maybe I’m just scared to die.
    He’s got a tic in his eye.
LOUIE BRONK
Death Row, Ellis I Unit,
Huntsville, Texas
    I n spite of the heat, Molly Cates was glad she’d decided to walk instead of driving the six blocks to the Travis County district attorney’s office. Parking at the Stokes Building was impossible, and anyway, she needed to work off some steam. What a horse’s ass Richard could be! She’d never seen him act like that before. Of course she hadn’t exactly covered herself in roses either—losing it like that and calling him names.
    Sweat began to drip down her hairline, but she walked faster, passing the white-pillared Greek Revival governor’s mansion without even glancing up at it.
    Why had he changed his mind in midstream? Months ago at the staff meeting everyone had agreed that it was a good idea to use Louie Bronk’s execution, when it came, as an opportunity to recap the case and to look at the capital punishment situation in Texas. Then when Bronk’s date was set last month, they’d discussed it again.
    It made her jaw clench to think about Richard Dutton calling hermorbid and death-obsessed. Then, to top it off, while she talked on the phone with Charlie McFarland, he had leaned against his desk with that just-swallowed-the-canary look, insinuating she had capitulated just by taking the phone call. When she hung up, they’d looked at one another in hostile silence.
    Finally Richard had said why didn’t she take a day to think it over before saying anything else she might regret. She’d