by Erica Abbott
This was getting her nowhere. She couldn’t call Lea to explain, so she was going to have to set up a lunch or something. She could always use their plan to reintroduce Rita to Loren as an excuse, she supposed.
* * *
“Rita Lopez,” Lea repeated, replacing her napkin in her lap. “I didn’t remember her, but I dug out Loren’s yearbook and looked her up. Honor Society, girls choir, debate club. She was a pretty girl, at least at sixteen.”
“She’s the best paralegal in the office and she’s still nice-looking. And by the way, research skills like yours could get you through law school,” Jean responded lightly.
“There’s no need to be insulting,” Lea responded, giving her a crooked smile.
“You are hilarious. And here I thought all you law enforcement types were so serious.”
“Stereotyping is such a bad thing. I’ll have you know I was voted class clown in high school.”
“Now I know you’re kidding.”
Lea grinned again. “Yep,” she admitted.
“I’m going to go with most likely to succeed.”
“Wrong this time.”
“Well, come on, Sheriff, fess up. I’ve only got an hour for lunch.”
“Oh, come on. It’s casual Friday.”
“That refers to my extremely relaxed wardrobe, not to my workload.” Jean was wearing khakis and a cotton cardigan, as casual as she could bring herself to dress for work. “You look fine,” Lea said. “Very informal and southern Colorado appropriate.”
“Says a woman who wears a starched uniform to work every day.”
“It makes decision making in the mornings easier. And remember,” Lea gestured with her spoon, “the most important element: no pantyhose.”
Jean laughed. “I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” She happily tried her tomato basil soup. “So tell me. Why did you pick law enforcement instead of ranching or selling insurance or law school? Was it just that your grandfather was the sheriff?”
Touching her mouth with the napkin, Lea said thoughtfully, “It’s hard to go back and separate your own desires or inclinations from the influence of the people around you. My grandfather was one of my favorite people growing up. He always seemed to be so…I don’t know, calm and in control, as if there were no situation he couldn’t handle. I wanted to be like that.” Her mouth quirked up again and Jean realized how adorable she found that expression. “I have a strong instinct to keep people safe, I guess. I really love my job.” She tasted her green chile stew and smiled. “This is good. So, your turn. Why law school?”
Jean shrugged. “I liked school and I was good at it. Being a lawyer seemed likely to make me more money than being a college professor.”
Lea gave her a sharply assessing look. “Money is important to you?”
“Not per se. But getting away from my mother was very important to me when I was eighteen and money was just a tool for that.”
Lea’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly and Jean realized that she’d been worried that money was Jean’s priority. “So that worked to get you away?” Lea asked.
“Well enough. I escaped to get away from the Texas heat and humidity and moved to California, the land of mudslides and earthquakes.” She finished off her soup. “Enough about me. I thought we were here to talk about Loren.”
Jean didn’t really care very much what the topic was, she realized. The crush she had finally admitted she had on Lea was making the second part of the upcoming conversation between them, the explanation about Charlotte, that much more difficult to think about.
Lea said, “Yes, right. Loren and Rita. We could just do this the old-fashioned way and set them up on a blind date.”
“Well, not exactly a blind date. They have met, even if it was a lot of years ago.”
Lea munched on a piece of tortilla thoughtfully. “I’m really reluctant to get too clever and try to arrange a ‘gee, look who’s here’ encounter. It feels a little manipulative to me.”
Propping her chin in her hand, Jean mused, “If I ask Rita directly if she’s interested in going out with Loren and she says no, that solves the problem, I guess. If she says yes, and I’m betting that she will, do we just get her number and give it to Loren to call her?”
“Seems the most direct way,” Lea agreed. “If he doesn’t want to, neither one of them is risking much in the way of damaged pride.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jean said. “If he doesn’t call her after I get her phone number, I think that might hurt her feelings a bit.”
Lea looked thoughtful and Jean gazed out the front window of the downtown bistro at the people on the sidewalk. The natives were strolling, stopping to chat or go into the small shops, most wearing some variation of denim, cowboy hats and boots. The tourists, and there were always some, usually walked at a brisker pace and seemed to favor polyester and tennis shoes. At length Lea sighed. “Yep, I guess you’re right. We’re making this way too hard. Let’s just go to lunch this weekend, the four of us, and tell everybody what’s up. They can chat and mutually decide to do whatever they want to do. Or not. How’s that?”
“It took forty minutes and two highly intelligent professional women to figure out that strategy?” Jean smiled. “Glad we weren’t doing something really hard.”
Lea, keeping her voice low but with a bantering tone, responded, “It’s because it’s men and women. Lesbians are so much easier to get together.”
Jean laughed out loud, attracting a few curious stares from other diners.
The waitress appeared, to whisk away bowls and refill the iced tea glasses. “So what’s going on with our jail death case?” Lea asked.
“We have a settlement conference set for November, the fifth I think. But the good news is that after your deposition, I got a call from plaintiff’s counsel, which was, you might say, an exploratory one.”
“Sending out feelers for settlement, is that what you mean?”
“Exactly. They’re on their way down in the demand amount and I’m going to the board next week to nail down some settlement authority. It will probably be in the low six-figure range.”
“Still seems like a lot when we weren’t at fault,” Lea muttered.
“It is,” Jean agreed. “But it will cost us at least two hundred thousand or so to try the case, when you figure in time off for our witnesses, attorney costs, preparation for trial and expert-witness fees. It’s just an economic decision, as we talked about before.”
Lea sighed. “I know. Cost of doing the public business, in a way.”
“Exactly.”
Before Jean could determine how to introduce the subject she really had to talk about, Lea reached for the cell phone on her belt. She looked at the number, and then said apologetically, “I’m sorry, it’s the office.”
“I understand,” Jean said, both disappointed and relieved. “You’re always on call.”
“This is Hawkins,” Lea said into the phone. She listened intently for about a minute and then said, “What’s his status?” After another pause, she said, “Okay. I’m on my way in. Tell Cruz and Hopkins I’ll see them before they go in to talk to him. Yes, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
She punched the phone off. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Good news or bad?”
“Good, I hope.” She lowered her voice carefully and continued, “My investigators finally got a tip and they located an individual at the flea market selling some stuff stolen in a couple of the Joya burglaries. We just arrested the guy we think is our burglar.”
“That is good news,” Jean exclaimed. “Are you going to take over the case now?”
Lea frowned at her. “I don’t step in and take cases away from my people after they’ve done all the work. I just want to make sure we’re on the road to getting a confession, especially for the murder of Fred Lambert. And we’ll need to do a press release, or maybe a news conference and that’s my job.”
Jean was afraid she’d offended her. “Sorry, I didn’
t mean to—”
Lea interrupted her with a wave of a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. Look, would you be willing to do me a favor? Work-related, I mean.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll want to brief the board on the arrest but I’ll need more information first. Would you see if they’re willing to meet late this afternoon, say four o’clock? I know it’s Friday afternoon but they really like knowing what’s going on with high-profile cases like this and I don’t want them to be surprised with a phone call from the press later.”
“No problem,” Jean said. “I’ll call them myself and let Del know.”
Lea stood up from the table, but hesitated. “I understand you need to tell your boss,” she said, “but you’re my lawyer. I want you in on the briefing too. All right?”
Jean had a warm flutter in her stomach. Don’t be an idiot, she chided herself. It’s just work.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
* * *
The sun was still above the mountaintops when the three commissioners, two attorneys and the sheriff assembled in the commissioners’ conference room. As usual the commissioners took the seats to give them the western-facing view. Del and Jean sat across from them, as befitted their lowly status as mere employees, though Jean noticed that Del managed to get the seat directly across from Carolyn Forsythe.
Lea sat at the head of the table and Jean observed how her calm presence seemed to fill a room. Lea folded her hands on the tabletop and Jean found herself gazing at her, enjoying the sight.
I have got to get a handle on this, she told herself yet again. But it would be so much easier if Lea weren’t so nice. And attractive. And sexy.
Stop, stop, stop.
“Thank you for coming.” Lea began the meeting. “I needed to update you on the newest developments in the case concerning the Joya burglaries and, of course, the Lambert murder, in case you received any phone calls from the press or constituents.”
“We do so appreciate it, Sheriff.” Carolyn oozed charm.
“Could we get on with this?” Del muttered.
Lea shot him a look that shut him up and Jean realized how much Lea actively disliked Del Franklin. We have so much in common, she thought wryly. Lea continued, “Today at around noon, two of my investigators assigned to the case executed an arrest warrant on one William Crabtree Junior, age twenty, a resident of Joya. He lives with his parents, William Senior and Nina Crabtree.”
She paused a moment to see if anyone reacted to the names, then went on. “The arrest warrant was issued this morning after we received information that Crabtree was selling a video game system and sound equipment similar to items stolen in two of the Joya burglaries. We have since verified that the items were in fact stolen from the homes burglarized last month and by executing a search warrant on the Crabtree home this afternoon, we have recovered most of the stolen goods.”
“Good news,” Jaime Fontana said. “So he’s your guy, then.”
Lea looked hesitant and Jean wondered what was going on. “After being booked, Mr. Crabtree was questioned by our investigators. He declined counsel and eventually admitted to having committed the burglaries.” She cleared her throat and added, “He was apparently under the mistaken impression that since he was not yet twenty-one, he could not be charged as an adult. My investigators have since corrected him and explained that he became an adult at age eighteen for purposes of the criminal statutes. In any event, he has signed a complete confession and stated that he acted alone. We certainly have no indication that he acted with anyone else. He told us the motive for the thefts was a desire to get money to move out of his parents’ home.”
Well, he’s out of their house now, Jean thought, mulling over the irony, and he’s likely to stay that way. She had finally figured out what Lea wasn’t telling them as Jaime Fontana said, “He admitted to the murder too, right?”
Lea refolded her hands and looked him in the face. “No.”
“No?” Del and Carolyn said almost in unison.
“He has categorically denied ever being in the Lambert house and says he had nothing to do with Lambert’s murder.”
Hayward Lyons said loudly, “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard! I hope you recognize a lying piece of shit when you see one, Sheriff!”
“Ward, language,” Carolyn murmured.
“I’m sure the sheriff has heard worse language,” Lyons snarled. “I’m sure the sheriff has used worse language, in fact.”
Lea ignored the comment. “There are a couple of complicating factors. First, Crabtree has an alibi of sorts for the Lambert murder. He was with some friends that evening and didn’t get home until after midnight.”
“Friends!” Lyons snorted. “People who would lie to cover up for him, no doubt.”
“It’s always possible,” Lea said in a tone that indicated she was doubtful. “We’ll follow up of course on the witnesses he mentioned. He told us they were playing some video games and that he was with them from six o’clock on. If we can verify his alibi, it appears he may not have committed the Lambert murder.”
Jean did a quick survey of the faces at the table. Hayward and Del looked deeply skeptical, Carolyn looked shocked and Jaime had the expression of a man who couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I don’t understand,” Jaime said at length. “I thought you were sure that the same man, the burglar, killed Lambert.”
“At the time, it was a reasonable theory,” Lea said coolly, “but there were some inconsistencies that made it less than a certainty.”
“This is still bullshit,” Lyons said decisively. “He did it and you know he did it. He’s just afraid to confess to a murder, that’s all.”
Lea turned to him. “That may be true. But as I said, he may have an alibi. In addition, the Lambert break-in wasn’t exactly the same MO as the others and, most importantly, we haven’t found anything to tie Crabtree to the Lambert murder. No physical traces were left behind that we can tie to Crabtree and there was nothing at the Crabtree house that links him to the Lambert murder. And of course we haven’t found the gun.”
Across the table, Jean could hear Hayward Lyons grinding his teeth. Beside him, Carolyn said, “Oh, Ward, come on now. We know you campaigned on a law and order platform and all that, but really. You have to let the investigators do their jobs.” She flashed a smile at Lea and added, “Ward would have made an excellent hanging judge, I’m sure.”
Del said, “Well frankly, I agree with Hayward. I assume you’ll work to get this resolved as soon as possible, Sheriff.”
Jean watched both Carolyn and Ward glance at Del, but she couldn’t read either expression. At length, Ward muttered, “You’re right, of course, Carolyn. We trust you to wrap this up correctly, Sheriff Hawkins, to see that justice is done.”
Fixing Del with a glare that would have caused Jean to cower if it had been aimed at her, Lea responded, “Don’t worry. We will make an arrest for this murder. We’re starting from scratch, investigating anyone else who had a motive to kill Fred Lambert.”
“You think it was someone he knew?” Carolyn exclaimed.
“The majority of murder victims know their killers,” Lea answered. “If Crabtree did it, we’ll make every effort to find enough proof to go to the district attorney and charge Crabtree with the murder. If we clear him, we’ll find out who did fire the gun. Any questions?”
Her tone wasn’t particularly inviting and Jean wasn’t surprised when no one spoke.
Lea rose. She said briskly, “I’ll keep you updated as the investigation progresses. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you referred any questions from the newspaper or television stations to me directly. I’m preparing a press release for this evening’s broadcast deadlines and doing a stand-up interview in…” she consulted her watch, “fifteen minutes. Thank you for coming in on a Friday afternoon.”
She left without a backward glance. The set of her shoulders looked angry and Jean couldn’t tell
if Lea was more furious at the board or at the suspect. Either way, Jean was glad she wasn’t the object of her wrath.
On her way back to her office, Jean remembered that she still hadn’t talked to Lea about their relationship. She suspected that with the investigation now on the front burner, it would be a while before she and Lea would have another relaxed lunch conversation.
* * *
To avoid going to the gym on Saturday morning, Jean was forced to clean her entire condo, from vacuuming to dusting to cleaning the toilet. She made a list of things she needed to get for the house: bedroom rug, extra light bulbs, a large laundry basket.
When the workout could be delayed no longer, she reluctantly put on her sweats and a T-shirt with a faded University of Texas Longhorns logo. Once on the treadmill she thought, as she often did, that the treadmill used to be a punishment for prisoners sentenced to hard labor in nineteenth-century England. And now we pay good money for the privilege. She shook her head with a small smile.
She finished her forty minutes and eyed the free weights, talking herself out of further exertion. She wondered if Lea worked out in her home gym every morning or if, like herself, she just managed three or four times a week. Jean didn’t think she could bear to have workout equipment at home, always standing mutely, waiting for her and making her feel guilty.
And there she was thinking about Lea Hawkins again. There were probably fewer than a dozen single gay women in the entire county and she had to have the sexiest lesbian available as a client. Just remembering Lea’s long, strong fingers or her crooked smile was giving Jean a burning feeling under her skin, a feeling so long absent she could scarcely remember what it felt like. She knew it was desire, naked and compelling, and she didn’t know what to do with it.
She stripped off her clothes as soon as she walked in the door and started the shower. She ought to take a cold shower, she supposed, but she turned the water steamy hot and stepped into the cascade of warmth. The shower prickled on her skin, washing over her shoulders and down her back. She leaned forward against the tiles, cold against the palm of one hand as she slid her other hand between her legs.