Hush Money

by T. E. Woods

  “Call it what you will. There she was in all her glory. Glowering down at us from under an inch of dust.”

  “Twenty bucks, as I recall. And you talked the guy down to thirteen. I remember you said it would take up an entire wall. And with that big metal frame, it did.”

  “Cheapest piece of decor we could find.”

  “I’ll bet it scared off half your patients.”

  “It did no such thing, thanks to my clinic manager. Barbie used to tell people who asked—and of course everyone did—that the lady in the portrait was Millicent Denitra VandenHovel, of the Newport VandenHovels. She made up an entire backstory about how Millie was a suffragette instrumental in securing women the right to vote. She even decided that October fifth was Millie’s birthday. Every year the office staff would bring in cake and cookies. Patients came to love Old Iron Guts.”

  “I never knew that story.” It often surprised Sydney that her friend might have a life that didn’t include her. “What happened to her?”

  “A nonprofit is in the Victorian now. When Barbie took their exec on a walk-through, she told them her fable, which by now I’m sure she believes. They were so impressed they offered me five hundred dollars for the painting.”

  “You made a profit?”

  “Which I promptly signed over to Planned Parenthood.”

  Sydney smiled. “Old Iron Guts would like that.” She paused. “Speaking of tough broads, I encountered one of your patients on the way in.”

  Ronnie said nothing. Her ethics would demand no less.

  “Cynthia Conyer. I met her opening night at Hush Money. She seemed aloof that night. Today she was downright rude. Like I was dust she needed to brush off her shoe. So now I know how you knew Andrew Conyer was a man used to getting his way. Cynthia told me she was pregnant. Another success for you, huh, Doc?”

  “C’mon.” Ronnie shifted away from divulging any information about her patients with well-practiced grace. “I’ve got a two-hour window. Let’s get while the getting’s good.”

  —

  Ronnie flipped down the sun visor and fussed with her short blond pixie cut.

  “I’m a mess! But it was worth it to ride in this convertible. Promise me you’ll never sell it, Syd.”

  “How about I give you first dibs if I ever decide to.”

  “Oh, no! I couldn’t. It doesn’t fit my style. Better to have a BFF who has one.” Ronnie pulled her purse from the backseat and got out of the car. “I gotta run. Thanks for lunch. Tell Nancy I said hi…and let me know when you want me to interrogate your handsome new man.”

  “He’s not my man.”

  Ronnie grinned. For a moment she wasn’t the respected women’s health physician. She wasn’t the scholar who’d entered medical school at an age when most girls were wondering who would ask them to prom. In that instant she was a playful woman. Teasing her friend about a boy. “Give me twenty minutes with him and I’ll determine whether he is or not.”

  “Don’t you have patients to see?”

  “I do. And you have places to be.” Ronnie’s impish smile disappeared, along with the teasing lilt in her voice. “Be careful, Syd. I can’t understand why you’re so involved with this Windy Fields, but I’m going to stand right beside you no matter what. Just promise me you’ll keep your eyes open. Lead with your head this time, not with your heart, okay?”

  They’d taken the entire two hours Ronnie had set aside for her conference and enjoyed a long lunch at a barbecue joint that offered outdoor seating. As was typical for the two of them, they covered a wide range of topics. When the conversation got around to Sydney’s plans to visit Windy in jail, Ronnie struggled to comprehend Sydney’s involvement with a woman who’d just been charged with murdering the mayor, but it was obvious she was willing to substitute trust for true understanding.

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.” Sydney shifted into reverse. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Let’s do something soon.”

  —

  Sydney was making her way through the downtown crush of busy Madisonians scurrying about their day when she heard her name. She turned to see a handsome man in a police uniform waving to her. She recognized him, waved back, and waited as he dodged traffic to jog across the street.

  Rick Sheffield’s smile was as warm as she remembered. He looked up at the City-County Building. “What brings you down here? Anything you need a cop for?”

  Sydney liked his open ease. It inspired confidence and trust. She wondered if it came from working with his canine partner. “I’m visiting someone. In the jail. I’m more than a bit nervous, if you really want to know.”

  “Who’s your person and what’s their offense? And if it’s someone who’s run off with your chef’s burger recipe, let me know. I’ll get an APB out faster than you can blink. Throw a couple of choppers in the sky. Hunt this desperado down.”

  “An employee. And if I told you what she’s been arrested for, you’d probably tell me to turn around and go back home.”

  The look in Rick Sheffield’s eyes morphed from gentle teasing to understanding. “Wanda Fields. The mayor.”

  Sydney nodded. She remembered that old saying: Madison is the world’s biggest small town. She wasn’t surprised this officer knew who she’d be coming to see. “This is the place, right?”

  “It is. C’mon. Things can get a bit grim jailside. Let me see what I can do to get you to the right place.”

  He waved his arm in the direction of the door and she followed, somehow confident this man would get her to wherever she needed to be. He led her down corridors and through reinforced doors, nodding to various officers they passed, giving each the impression the woman next to him had his approval, perhaps even his protection.

  “I gotta leave you here,” Sheffield said when they got to a set of solid steel doors. “Do what the guards tell you. You’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you so much. I appreciate this.”

  His smile was mischievous again. “Do you, now? Enjoy your visit.”

  Twenty minutes later she was seated in a plastic chair in front of a Plexiglas barrier in the basement of the City-County Building. She’d been patted down, led through a metal detector, and told the rules of visitation by a police officer who looked like her assignment to the city jail was a purgatory she was too bored to earn her way out of. There was a long line of visiting stations. Sydney was glad to see only two others were occupied.

  “Wait here,” the officer ordered her. “Talk to your prisoner through the phone. Do not attempt physical contact of any kind. Not even by pressing against the glass. Your time here is monitored. Should we see any indication of you attempting to hand something to the prisoner, your visit will end. At that point the best you can hope for is an immediate invitation to leave. The worst is you’ll be facing charges yourself. There’s to be no sexual discussions, no loud talking that might interfere with the other visitors’ conversations, and when we say time is up, time is up. Got it?”

  Sydney assured the woman she did. The guard nodded and turned, speaking Windy’s name into a walkie-talkie as she stomped away.

  Sixteen minutes later a door opened behind the long row of visitor stations. Sydney drew in a startled breath as Windy walked toward her. The pale blue scrubs she wore seemed three sizes too big. Her brown eyes were wide, frightened. She picked up her pace when she saw Sydney. Both women reached for the phones mounted on either side of the glass.

  Sydney’s eyes were drawn to the scratches on Windy’s pale arms.

  “Have you seen Gabby?” Windy held her phone in trembling hands. “Is she all right?”

  “I haven’t seen her. But I know she’s well. Aubree’s called me twice since you’ve been here. She assures me Gabby’s fine. She misses her mommy, of course, but she’s safe and well cared for. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you. I know I am.”

  Tears streamed down Windy’s cheeks. She shook her head. Her shoulders heaved.

  “I know things look dark, Windy.” Sydney kept he
r voice as reassuring as circumstances allowed. “But you’re not alone.”

  It was several minutes before Windy could calm herself enough to speak.

  “I’ve been arrested.”

  Sydney made an exaggerated show of looking around the brightly lit cinder-block room. “You mean this isn’t the Hilton?”

  Windy huffed out a tear-choked laugh. “I guess that was a dumb thing to say.” She looked at Sydney for several long moments. Sydney hoped she’d see the trust she was offering.

  “I met your lawyer…my lawyer…Andrew. I met with Andrew. Twice now. He said you’re paying his fee.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “I don’t know if I can pay you back….”

  “Like I said, don’t worry.”

  “Andrew said you hired Aubree to take care of Gabby. Is that true?”

  “I thought it would be better for her to stay with someone she’s used to. Aubree tells me she often watches Gabby while you work. That the two of you are close friends.”

  Windy nodded. “Why are you doing this? For me, I mean? Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it. Especially what you’re doing for Gabby. That policeman said they could call in social services.” Windy’s tears returned. “I don’t want my baby in a foster home!”

  “Then it’s a good thing she’s not going to one.” Sydney struggled to keep her own voice light while her heart was breaking for the desperate mother sitting across from her. “I got a call from Andrew after the two of you met with the judge this morning. He’s taking care of things even as we speak. You should be released this afternoon. He’ll drive you home, Gabby will be there, and we won’t have another thought about foster care. How’s that?”

  “Released?” Windy’s eyes shifted in confusion. “They don’t think I killed the mayor anymore?”

  Sydney lifted her hand to the Plexiglas but pulled it back when she remembered the guard’s warning. She wanted so much to offer some sort of human comfort. “We’ll talk about that later. Okay? Andrew’s arranging your bond. It means the police are still going to do what they need to, and of course it means Andrew’s going to do the same. And while everyone’s busy doing their jobs, you won’t have to sit in here.”

  “The judge said my bail was two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “I understand that. And she set it that low because of who you are, Windy. You have no criminal record. You have ties to Madison. A daughter. Friends. A job.”

  “I can’t pay two hundred thousand dollars!”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “You? Why?”

  “I’ve been asked that question a lot lately. Not sure I have an answer. I only know this is what I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

  “Like, what?” Windy sounded doubtful. “You’re some superhero who saves damsels in distress?”

  Sydney considered Windy’s question. Horst, her mother, Ronnie, Andrew…Every person she told about her desire to help Windy met her with the same concerns.

  But not Rick Sheffield, she realized. He didn’t bat an eye when I told him I was here to see Windy.

  “I don’t have any superpowers, Windy. But something tells me you deserve a friend right now. I’d like to be that, if you’ll let me.”

  Windy sat there, head bowed, for several moments. When she finally looked up, her eyes glistened with new tears.

  “You haven’t asked me if I did this,” she whispered brokenly. “You haven’t asked me if I shot the mayor.”

  Sydney glanced toward the guard. She remembered Andrew’s warning: Every statement was being recorded.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” she said firmly. “Right now I want you to focus on getting home to Gabby. My mom’s fixing up a basket of Roland’s greatest hits. It’ll be waiting for you when you get back to your apartment. Andrew’s going to pick you up and take you home. When you’ve showered and gotten yourself as pretty as I know you can be, I want you to call Aubree. Tell her to bring Gabby home. Then I want you to smile and laugh and promise your daughter that everything’s going to be okay. Because it is.”

  Windy’s eyes flickered with a ray of hope. A small smile tugged on her lips. Sydney’s breath was pulled from her as, in one heartbeat, Windy’s eyes went dark. Her smile disappeared.

  “No, Sydney. Nothing’s going to be okay. Not ever again.”

  Chapter 19

  FOUR WEEKS AGO

  “Hold it right there, Windy.” The mayor closed the door to a wall safe while she stood in the doorway of his home office. He moved a wall panel back into position to cover the metal plate. “You must never come in while my safe is open. Do you understand that? In fact, don’t come into this room unless I’m here with you. That makes things easier for all concerned.”

  Windy stood where she was told. He’d called her earlier that morning, insisting she be at his home at three-thirty. She knew from the tone of his voice that his wife wouldn’t be anywhere around.

  “Come in, girl. Don’t stand there like you’re in enemy territory.”

  But I am, she thought. I’m deep behind the lines.

  She stepped into his office.

  “I hope you were happy to get my call.”

  I’m never happy to get your call.

  The mayor reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fat stack of folded bills. She could see the top was one was a fifty.

  “There’s five hundred dollars.” The mayor’s smile held no warmth. “That’s more than half your rent money, isn’t it?”

  She said nothing. Her mind drifted back. She’d met men like the mayor before. Men who viewed the ring on their finger as nothing more than a reminder to be discreet when planning their sexual escapades. She’d become convinced some men actually preferred to be married when they set out to go where they never should. It somehow made the chase and the conquest all the hotter for the risk of getting caught. The mayor was like that. She’d seen it in his eyes the first time he came home in the middle of her cleaning day. Mrs. Millerman had been there and she had introduced Windy to her husband. The mayor had been polite. Shaken her hand. Said how pleased he was that she could help them out by taking such good care of their home. The words he spoke were as innocent as snow on Christmas morning.

  But the leer in his eyes was another thing. He’d stood with his wife behind him, speaking civilly while slowly scanning her body. He’d let his eyes linger on her hips and breasts. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, there was no mistaking the message he was sending. Despite doing her best to keep her own eyes cold, Windy knew the mayor had assumed she’d be interested in accepting any invitation he’d decide to offer.

  Men like him always assumed that.

  After that day she made a point of never being alone with him. If the mayor happened to come home while she was cleaning, she’d hurry into the next room. There always seemed to be people coming and going from the mayor’s office. It wasn’t a problem to find someone standing by something that needed dusting.

  Even with that, the mayor never missed an opportunity to soil her with sidelong glances.

  Seven months ago she’d come to work tired after a night of no sleep. Her head ached from time spent worrying about finances. She’d received a letter from Gabby’s preschool. They’d raised the tuition. The same morning she’d heard from the mechanic. That noise rattling her fifteen-year-old Toyota was a timing belt screaming out its last goodbyes.

  “It’s gonna cost at least three grand to replace it,” the mechanic had told her. “It ain’t the part so much as the labor. Gotta take the whole front end off to get to the damned thing. Car’s not worth more than a couple thousand as is. I was you, I’d scrap the damn thing and get a new car.”

  She knew her bank balance by heart. She had $167.89 in savings. She’d hoped to spend at least half of it giving Gabby some sort of Christmas. Her checking account had the five dollars she needed to keep it active. She hadn’t made a deposit in months. She and Gabby were eating off whatever leftovers he
r housekeeping customers told her to throw out as she cleaned their refrigerators.

  She’d been so tired that cold day in November. With just enough energy to do her job. The mayor had come up behind her before she realized there was no one in the house except the two of them.

  It seemed so easy. All I had to do was kneel there. He put his hands in my hair and did the rest himself. It didn’t even take very long. He gave me a hundred dollars. He told me I was a smart girl.

  Since that day she had been his. The mayor knew it. So did she. His requests became more and more frequent. The money disappeared like fog on a sunny day. But Gabby never went hungry. She was able to stay in the preschool she adored. And in a few weeks she and Gabby would have been in their small apartment for a whole year.

  An entire year without an eviction. I’m giving my little girl some stability.

  So when he called, she came. And now he’d laid five hundred dollars on his desk.

  “What is it you want?” she asked.

  He picked up the money clip, stepped around, and came to stand in front of her. He cupped a hand next to her cheek.

  “You’re quite lovely, you know. In a homespun kind of way.”

  She said nothing.

  “It occurs to me we’ve never used one of the beds.” He looked at the ceiling, as though he had X-ray eyes. “God knows we have enough of them. Phoebe always wanted to fill ’em up with kids. Well, that never happened, did it? Only people sleeping in those rooms are donors or hacks.” He held out his hand, indicating she should follow. “Come. Let me show you.”

  “I know what the upstairs looks like. I clean up there.”

  The mayor’s smile never seemed to hold any good humor. Still, he offered it. “I don’t want you to think of yourself as a cleaning lady today.” He walked out of his office.

  She knew it was her job to follow him.

  These are the steps I vacuum. She kept her eyes lowered as they climbed. Here is the first guest bedroom. It’s done in shades of blue. She followed him down the hall. Past the main bathroom with those small hexagonal tiles she had such trouble keeping clean. Past the second guest bedroom, the one done in browns and greens.