Free Double Take by Catherine Coulter Page A

merlot and heard himself add, “Perhaps you know my father-in-law, Mr. Pallack. His name is Chapman Holcombe—everyone calls him Chappy. His main interest is banking, owns Holcombe First Independent. Well, that’s not quite accurate—to be closer to the mark, I’d have to say his major interest is making money.” And Dix smiled, a man of the world.
    Thomas Pallack nodded. “I thought the name of your town sounded familiar. Yes, Chappy and I did business some years ago, very profitably, I might add. However, I haven’t been in touch with him, haven’t seen him since that time. How’s the old curmudgeon doing these days?”
    “He’s the same as ever. His son Tony runs the banks now, but Chappy hasn’t entirely dropped the reins. I doubt he will until he passes.”
    Judge Sherlock said smoothly, “You said this man was your father-in-law, Dix? Yes, I remember now my daughter Lacey saying you were married to his daughter. I’m sorry, but I don’t know her name.”
    “My wife is dead,” Dix said, feeling raw ugly bile in his throat and at the same time admiring Judge Sherlock’s chutzpah and his acting ability. “It’s been over three years now. Her name was Christie.”
    “I’m so very sorry,” said Charlotte Pallack. “My own father died when I was young.”
    “Well, Dix,” Thomas Pallack said, “you’d best warn Chappy not to bend the law or Judge Sherlock here might send him off to one of our federal gulags.”
    “Gulags?” Dix asked, eyebrow raised. “I didn’t know we’d built any here.”
    “Our prison system,” Thomas said, sitting forward, eyes fierce, “is a disgrace. Our prisoners are in appalling, overcrowded facilities, and the prison administration system is bogged down and incompetent.”
    “I agree with that,” Judge Sherlock said. Thomas Pallack gunned forward. “The only solution is to release some of the inmates, a furlough system, and then reintegrate them back into society.”
    Judge Sherlock said, “Don’t you know what the recidivism rate is, Thomas? It’s higher than the state income tax. I’d say the last thing society needs is to let robbers, murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and assorted other lowlifes back on the streets to wreak havoc.” Judge Sherlock paused a brief moment, realizing he couldn’t pound Thomas Pallack like he wanted since the man was his guest, dammit. “But you have a point. We need to overhaul the system—and build more prisons.”
    Thomas Pallack opened his mouth, saw Evelyn giving him a hostess’s gimlet eye, and closed it. “Some would agree” was all he said. Dix admired his restraint, but he wondered and questioned: Since Thomas Pallack knew Chappy, had he met Christie, seen her photo in Chappy’s library? Hadn’t he also at least heard Dix’s name? And if he had met Christie, hadn’t he noticed how alike his wife and Christie looked?
    Evelyn offered Thomas some French green beans with tiny pearl onions and blanched almonds on top. “You, Thomas, know Dix’s father-in-law. Such a small world, isn’t it?”
    Thomas Pallack said, “I remember meeting briefly with Chappy in Maestro—that’s the name, right? Then we went on to Richmond to meet with another couple of bankers. I remember asking him why he wasn’t in New York. I mean, what’s to do in a little one-horse town in western Virginia? Ah, no insult intended, Sheriff Noble.”
    Dix said easily, “I like the one-horse town very much, sir, even willingly moved my family from big exciting New York to live there.”
    But Thomas Pallack didn’t seem at all interested in that. Between a bite of the French green beans and a dinner roll, he said, “My candidate for district attorney, Corman, Galen Banbridge, is running on a hard-line law-and-order platform. It’s possible he might even be interested in more prison construction.”
    Dix grew still. He looked up at Thomas Pallack, well fed, so very certain of his place in the sun. Who and what was he? He asked, “Does