Body of Evidence

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Jennifer cleared her throat. “So, the witnesses you’re seeing in the next few days will sit in this chair where I am now and you’re there behind your desk and…I just want to be certain I have the details right. I might decide to shoot your office with no one in it, then explain what will transpire behind the closed door that would be shown next.”

  “Actually, no. I use the conference room for this type of thing. I don’t want to make my witnesses feel like they’re in the principal’s office with me looming over them from behind my desk.”

  Jennifer frowned. “What conference room?”

  “Follow me, ma’am,” Evan said, getting to his feet.

  They crossed the large room to a door on the far wall and entered an even bigger room that held a long table surrounded by chairs, a sofa and easy chair grouping, a small refrigerator and a multitude of filing cabinets and bookcases filled to overflowing. The table had a row of neatly stacked papers as well as several accordion files.

  “This is impressive,” Jennifer said, walking forward. “I didn’t even know this room was here.”

  “This is where I get organized before a trial. Plus we have department meetings in here on a regular basis so the A.D.A.’s can bring me up to date on their cases. I go over testimony with witnesses in here because we can sit on the sofa and chairs, or whatever, and it’s less intimidating.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Sticks and I will film this room with no one in it, then show the closed door. Okay?”

  “That’s fine.” Evan paused. “You know, Jennifer, the first days of the trial will be spent on jury selection. Again, I’d like to protect the jurors’ identities as far as the documentary goes, even though the press will be hovering around with cameras outside the courtroom.”

  “In other words, you don’t want me filming during jury selection.”

  “No, and no footage of the jury once the trial begins.”

  “I have no problem with that, Evan,” she said, turning to meet his gaze.

  “Well, there is one problem with it.”

  “Such as?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  Evan closed the distance between them and looked directly into her eyes.

  “Well, if I’m tied up with witnesses for the next several days, including through the weekend, then the trial starts next week and jury selection takes place, that’s a whole lot of time during which I won’t see you. That’s not good. Not good at all.”

  “It’s not?” She smiled up at him.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, matching her smile. “I’ve gotten used to you hanging around, so to speak. I’ll be looking over my shoulder wondering where you are, which would be hazardous to my concentration.”

  “I see.” Jennifer laughed. “Well, is there a solution to this dilemma?”

  “Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight and discuss it?”

  “Well, I certainly want to do everything I possibly can to assist you, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casually. I know a restaurant that serves the best steaks in town, but it’s rustic. You know, wooden tables and benches, that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds like fun. Oh. Maybe we’re not supposed to have fun while we’re discussing details of this and that regarding this case.”

  “I won’t tell, if you won’t.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Evan’s expression became serious and he drew one thumb over Jennifer’s lips, causing her to shiver at the sensual foray.

  “Your lips,” he said, his voice very deep and very rumbly, “are so kissable they should be declared against the law.”

  “So, arrest me,” she said, hardly above a whisper.

  “No, I’d rather…” he lowered his head toward Jennifer’s “…much rather kiss those lips that are so…”

  The hazy mist that was settling over them was shattered by the sound of Belinda’s voice in Evan’s office beyond the conference room.

  “You don’t have an appointment,” Belinda said. “You can’t just barge in here and…”

  “I can and I am,” a woman said. “Now where is Evan Stone? I don’t intend to leave until I’ve spoken with him.”

  “What the hell…” Evan muttered, striding toward the door leading to his office.

  Jennifer was right behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Evan,” Belinda said, throwing up her hands, “but she wouldn’t listen to me and…”

  “It’s not your fault, Belinda. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Thank goodness,” Belinda said, stomping from the room and closing the door behind her.

  “Mrs. Gardner,” Evan said, “won’t you have a seat?”

  So this is Cecelia Gardner, Jennifer thought, the grande dame of Chicago society. Or she was until this scandal broke. This was Franklin and Lyle Gardner’s mother. She was definitely an intimidating figure. Tall, thin, white hair swept up and couture clothes that suited her perfectly.

  “You’ve been refusing to accept my calls,” Cecelia said, sitting down opposite Evan’s desk, “so I came in person.” She swept her haughty gaze over Jennifer. “I’d prefer to speak with you privately, Mr. Stone.”

  Evan stepped forward and moved the second chair from in front of the desk to the side and away from Cecelia.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Ms. Anderson is filming a documentary on the inner workings of the D.A.’s office, per strict instructions from His Honor the mayor. Anything you say to me will be said in front of Jennifer.” He looked at Jennifer. “Jenny? Your chair?”

  Jennifer sank onto a chair, her eyes darting back and forth between Evan and Cecelia. The tension in the room was a nearly palpable entity. She studied Cecelia more intently, looking for the sorrow, the mother who had lost one son and had another facing charges of murdering his own brother. All she could see was anger flashing in Cecelia Gardner’s icy blue eyes.

  Evan sat down in the leather chair behind his desk. “Now then, Mrs. Gardner, what can I do for you?”

  “You can drop the charges against my son Lyle,” she said, lifting her chin. “This trial is a travesty, part of a conspiracy carefully planned by those who are jealous of the social standing, wealth and power that my family possesses. The lies being told about Franklin now that he’s no longer alive to defend himself are further proof of the evil forces who wish to diminish us. I won’t stand for it.”

  Evan leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t speak.

  “The story in the newspapers,” Cecelia went on, “relating that Franklin was involved in some sordid nonsense about young girls being sold into prostitution is ridiculous, and I plan to sue for slander, believe me. And as if that isn’t enough, you have all gone on to accuse Lyle of murdering his own brother.”

  Evan nodded.

  “Do you know, Mr. Stone,” Cecelia said, her voice quivering with fury, “that I have been asked to resign from the governing board of six charities that I have helped establish and run for many years? Do you know that the name Gardner is to be removed from the shelters and halfway houses I worked tirelessly to put into operation? Do you have any idea what you have done to my reputation in this town?

  “You will pay with your job, as will the mayor and governor. Yes, you will pay for what you’ve done. But you will first petition the court to drop all charges against Lyle so I can begin to reestablish my name and status to its proper place. Is that clear?”

  “Dear heaven,” Jennifer said, speaking aloud before she even realized she had done it, “where are your tears? Where is your grief for your dead son and for the other son who faces charges of taking his brother’s life? What kind of mother are you, Mrs. Gardner? All you can think about is you, your wants and needs.” She slid one hand protectively across her stomach. “Your…your baby boys, your babies are… Don’t you care?”

  “You have no concept of what is important in my level of society, young woman.” Cecelia glared at Jennifer. “Respect for me, my name, my power a
nd wealth must be reestablished before more damage is done.

  “Once I have regained my proper standing, I will see to the clearing of Franklin’s name and, in the meantime, Mr. Stone will drop the charges against Lyle so I don’t have to be concerned about that. I will have the respect due me. That is first and foremost on my mind.”

  “Incredible,” Jennifer whispered, as she stared at Cecelia.

  “I trust we understand each other, Mr. Stone?” Cecelia said, getting to her feet. “I doubt seriously that you intend to see your career destroyed over this nonsense. I expect Lyle to be released from jail before this day ends. I will also be looking for a public apology from you. A brief press conference should take care of that nicely. I will, in fact, be making a list of everyone who owes me an apology and I will see to it that they are forthcoming. I assume you have no questions regarding this matter?”

  “Just one,” Evan said, a steely edge to his voice.

  “Yes?” Cecelia said.

  “Do you plan to attend Lyle’s trial,” Evan said, “or just catch the highlights in the evening paper since you’ll be so busy attempting to repair your status in Chicago’s Gold Coast society? Can you fit witnessing your son convicted of murdering his only brother into your schedule, Mrs. Gardner?”

  Cecelia Gardner narrowed her eyes. “You are finished in this town, Stone, and I will see to it that no one, no one, across the entire United States will hire you. You don’t seem to comprehend who I am.”

  “I understand perfectly who and what you are,” Evan said, “and I think it’s very, very sad.”

  Cecelia squared her shoulders, then turned and crossed the room, leaving the door open as she left the office.

  “If I hadn’t seen it, heard it,” Jennifer said, her voice quivering, “I wouldn’t believe it. She’s not a mother. She’s not. How can a woman give birth to two sons and not be a mother?” Two tears spilled onto her pale cheeks. “She’s horrible, Evan. Didn’t she hold her babies in her arms, nurture them, sing to them, read them stories and…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Evan said, getting to his feet and hunkering down next to Jennifer’s chair. “Ah, man, she really upset you, didn’t she? I’m the one who is sorry, Jenny. I shouldn’t have subjected you to that despicable woman.”

  “No, no, it’s not your fault. I’m overreacting,” she said, swiping the tears from her cheeks, “because…I’m…tired. Yes, that’s it. I’m just tired.”

  Evan slammed his hands onto his thighs, pushed himself to his feet and began to pace around the office. He dragged one hand through his thick, dark hair, a deep scowl on his face.

  “Damn that Cecelia Gardner. I should have just called security and had her hauled out of here instead of allowing her to sound off.

  “No, no, she’s not a mother, not really. You’re right about that, Jennifer. She might have gained the title by giving birth but she doesn’t have a clue as to what it really means. She is the most selfish, self-centered…

  “I’ll tell you this, Jenny,” Evan ranted on, as he continued his trek. “I don’t have one iota of experience in the role of father, parent, but I don’t have to even think twice about how I would feel about my child, how I’d move heaven and earth to protect him, her, whatever. I’d put my life on the line for my son or daughter if it came to that. I would. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Evan stopped in front of Jennifer and met her wide-eyed gaze.

  “Yes, I’m listening, hearing, everything you’re saying, Evan,” she said, her voice still wobbly as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t realize you felt so passionately about being a father.”

  “I didn’t either until that witch came in here and did a fine job of show-and-tell of what a lousy parent is.” Evan shook his head. “That woman is…”

  “Hello,” Belinda said, rapping on the open door, then coming into the office. “I was stuck on the phone when Cecelia Gardner stormed out of here. She was one furious lady, that’s for sure.

  “Jennifer? Oh, my dear, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? And Evan? You look like you’re ready to chew nails. Oh, gracious, Cecelia upset both of you, didn’t she? What an awful person she is.”

  “I should never have let her get on her rip,” Evan said, taking a steadying breath.

  “I overreacted to her, I guess,” Jennifer said, then sniffled. “I just assumed that Cecelia Gardner was a…a mother who was in pain, who was heartbroken over losing one son and standing helplessly by as she faced the truth that her other son killed his brother. I was wrong. Giving birth doesn’t make a woman a mother. That title is earned, comes from the heart, from the love, from…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

  “Damn straight it does,” Evan said. “Cecelia Gardner isn’t a mother, she’s a social-climbing, power-hungry…”

  “Watch your mouth now, Evan,” Belinda said. “We get the point. Let’s back up to why I came in here, besides wanting to know what happened with Cecelia, of course.

  “This envelope was just delivered by a uniformed police officer, who actually ran down the hall to give it to me. It’s from Detectives Waters and Wilson.” She extended the interoffice envelope to Evan.

  Evan took it and opened it so quickly he tore the flap off, then pulled out the contents, reading the enclosed note, then looking at the other piece beneath it.

  “Yes!” he said, punching one fist in the air.

  “What is it?” Belinda and Jennifer said in unison.

  “Waters and Wilson are good, they are very, very good at what they do,” Evan said. “All we had to go on as far as the description of the ring that Lyle wore when he beat up his brother was a rather blurry print from a newspaper photograph that showed Lyle wearing the ring.

  “Then Maggie Sutter, a forensics detective, did an absolutely brilliant job of lifting an impression of what caused the bruises on Franklin Gardner’s face. She determined that it was, indeed, a heavy signet ring with the letter G engraved on it.

  “Now? Waters and Wilson contacted the Gardners’ insurance company on the off chance that since the ring is valuable there was a picture of it on file there.”

  “And?” Belinda said.

  “Here it is,” Evan said, turning a photograph around to show Belinda and Jennifer. “A crystal-clear picture of that ring. This has got to help in locating the damn thing. It just has to.” He reached for the telephone receiver. “I’m going to call those detectives and tell them what a fantastic job they did getting this.”

  “Evan, wait just one second, please. I know I said I’d go out to dinner with you this evening, but I’m going to take a rain check. I have a headache and I’m exhausted. The best place for me is home and early to bed.”

  “Are you sure?” he said, frowning as he released his hold on the telephone receiver. “You have to eat. We can make an early evening of it.”

  “No, I’ll have some soup and toast. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon and see how things went with your witnesses. I must go. Bye.”

  Jennifer got to her feet, took one step forward, then gasped as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She reached out blindly for the chair as black dots danced before her eyes.

  “Evan, quick,” Belinda said, “catch her. I think she’s going to faint.”

  Evan closed the distance between himself and Jennifer and swept her into his arms just as she began to crumble.

  “I’m…I’m fine,” she said, blinking several times. “Evan, put me down. I’m fine. Just…just a little…dizzy and…”

  “Take a deep breath, honey,” Belinda said. “Slow and easy. I fainted a few times at the beginning of my first pregnancy, too. It’s nothing serious, but you should tell your doctor about it. Your body is going through a great many changes right now and sometimes it just blinks out from the overload. Deep breath.”

  “What…did…you…say?” Evan said, looking at Belinda, Jennifer, then back to Belinda.

  “I really don’t wan
t to be here right now,” Jennifer said, then slumped against Evan’s chest as everything went black.

  Chapter 4

  Jennifer wondered hazily why she was standing in the shower allowing icy cold water to cover her forehead and dribble down her face and along her neck. She frowned, opened her eyes, and found herself almost nose to nose with Belinda, who was pressing a wet paper towel to Jennifer’s forehead.

  “What…”

  “Easy now,” Belinda said, removing the soggy wad of paper. “You’re all right. You fainted, but you were only out for a little bitsy time. Evan carried you in here to the conference room and you’re on the sofa. Are you with me so far?

  “I sent Evan off to bring his vehicle around to the front of the building so you won’t have to traipse all the way through the parking garage before he can take you home.”

  “Oh, but…” Jennifer said, struggling to sit up.

  “Stay,” Belinda said, pushing her back gently to a prone position.

  Belinda got to her feet, pulled a chair next to the sofa and settled onto it.

  “I…” Jennifer’s eyes widened as she stared at Belinda. “Oh, dear heaven, Belinda. I heard you say that you had fainted during your first pregnancy, too, meaning just the way I was fainting during my first pregnancy and…” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh-h-h, this is terrible. How did you know that I… Oh-h-h.”

  Belinda lifted Jennifer’s hands and placed them on her stomach.

  “How did I know that you’re pregnant?” Belinda said. “It’s just a silly knack I’ve had forever. I can just…tell. You’re going to have Evan’s baby.”

  “Your strange powers announce who the father is, too?” Jennifer asked, frowning.

  “No, of course not.” Belinda laughed. “That’s just simple logic, for mercy sake. The sparks between you and Evan are enough to start my backyard grill. What I want to know is when you intended to tell him he’s going to be a daddy?”

  “That’s a rather moot point, isn’t it? You already told him, Belinda. I wanted to postpone it for as long as possible because I knew he’d be upset, probably angry and… What kind of mood was he in when you shuffled him off to get ready to play taxi?”