by Angela Henry
After throwing away my wet paper towels, I headed to the closed auditorium door and put my ear to the door. I had every intention of skulking back in but couldn’t bring myself to open the door. I could hear Ted Montgomery’s monotone voice droning on about something and turned on my heel and left.
I’d planned to go home, take a hot bath, order a pizza, and crawl into bed until I remembered my dinner date with Lewis’s lawyer, Sharon Newcastle. I thought about canceling until I realized I didn’t have her phone number. I took Queenie out for a quick walk, fed her, showered, and changed into jeans, boots, and a black cashmere sweater Carl had given me the last Christmas we’d spent together, and still managed to arrive at Estelle’s ten minutes early. The place was hopping. I grabbed silverware and menus and took a seat in the back corner away from the front door and the cold draft that came in each time it opened and closed.
Sharon was actually fifteen minutes late and came bustling in, just I was deciding whether or not to leave, still dressed in what looked like her work clothes, a dove grey suit with a peplum jacket and black stiletto patent leather Mary Janes. She was already tall. Her heels made her Amazonian.
“Sorry, Kendra. Got held up in court. Have you been waiting long?” She slid into the opposite side of the booth and ordered a glass of white wine when our server approached. I was tempted to do the same but considering how screwed up my day had already been decided I didn’t need a DUI on top of it. I ordered a lemonade.
“No worries. I haven’t been here that long.”
“Great. What’s good here? What do you recommend?” She perused the menu while I took a minute to study her. At first glance she looked normal enough. But now that I had a chance to get a good look at her, I noticed the dark circles under eyes, the fingernails bitten to the quick, and how thin she was. The break-up with her fiancé must be kicking her ass. Poor girl. She looked up at me expectantly when I didn’t answer her question, and my eyes scanned the menu before setting on the table.
“Depends on how hungry you are.”
“Starving,” she replied.
“Then Mama’s heavenly meatloaf with corn bread, green beans, and parmesan smashed potatoes should fill you right up.”
“Sounds good.” We both ordered the meatloaf. Sharon downed her remaining wine in one gulp and ordered another.
“So, what court case held you up?” I asked for lack of anything better to say. Now that we were both here I had no idea what in the world we’d talk about.
“A robbery. My client is accused of stealing from the cash register at her job at the gas station on Holt.”
“Did she do it?”
“They’ve got someone who looks a hell of a lot like her on camera with her hand in the till.”
“How do you…” I began, not quite knowing how to ask her what I knew was touchy subject amongst lawyers.
“How can I defend people who are obviously guilty?”
“Yeah.”
“Everyone has a right to due process, Kendra. I work to make sure the rights of the accused are being upheld. It’s up to the prosecution to prove their guilt. It’s my job to keep them out of jail or at least get them as little jail time as possible.”
“Okay, I get the due process part. But what if they’ve killed someone? Doesn’t it bother you that you could be putting a killer back on the streets to kill again?” She must have been used to my question because she seemed hardly phased at all. Instead, she shrugged and took another sip of wine.
“You sound a lot like Alex, my ex.”
“Was he a lawyer, too?”
“Are you kidding? He teaches at Perkins.”
“Seriously? What grade?”
“Eighth. He teaches government, and he’s also the basketball coach.”
“How long had you guys been together?”
“Since senior year in college. He was on the men’s basketball team and I was on the women’s,” she recalled fondly.
“Sounds like that movie Love & Basketball.”
“Not exactly,” she laughed and looked into her wine glass. “You must think I’m really pitiful, huh?”
“No. Why would you say that?”
“Look at me, Kendra. I’m a mess. I’m barely holding it together. Why else would you have asked me to dinner if you didn’t feel sorry for me? My dad and friends practically have me on suicide watch.”
“If I feel sorry for anybody, it’s me,” I said with a dry laugh. “I just wanted to talk to someone who would understand. My grandmother’s tired of hearing me whine, and my best friend just wants me to get over it already. It’s been five months. I know Carl’s not coming back. And I even know it’s for the best. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“God, don’t I know it. It’s only been two months for me. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Kids.”
“Kids, as in one of you wants kids and the other doesn’t?” I asked, thinking how ironic it would be if Sharon and her fiancé broke up over the same reason I couldn’t accept Carl’s marriage proposal.
“Kids, as in, we both want them. But I can’t have them.”
“You’re infertile?” She simply nodded.
“What about adoption?”
“I would have been happy to adopt, but Alex wants his own flesh and blood children.”
“What about a surrogate?”
“We looked into it, but it’s too expensive. I’m a lowly public defender making thirty grand a year and he’s a schoolteacher. We just don’t have the money. So, I cut him loose so he could find a woman who could give him what I can’t.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yep.”
“He’d rather have his own children with another woman he may never love as much as you then adopt with the woman he loves?”
“That pretty much sums it up.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and I could have kicked myself for making that last comment.
“What about you and Carl?”
“He broke up with me over a stupid misunderstanding. But there were deeper issues.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one thing, we didn’t want the same things. Carl was ready for a new life away from here, practicing law at a big firm in the big city. I’m a small-town girl. I would have never been happy with that life.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell my dad.”
“Really? I take it big city life isn’t for you, either, huh?” She nodded enthusiastically. I don’t know why that surprised me so much. Maybe I was just so used to everyone else thinking happiness was tied to better opportunities elsewhere that I figured Sharon felt the same way.
“My father’s dream was to practice law in New York or DC. But he met my mom; after I was born she developed health issues and didn’t want to be away from her family, who were helping to take care of her. I was only a year old when she died, and he felt like he couldn’t leave when I was so young. By the time he married my stepmother, he’d already become a judge. Now he’s trying to live vicariously through me and is constantly on my case about how being a public defender is a dead end and pushing me to apply for positions with big law firms in Columbus and Cleveland. And now that my engagement to Alex is over, it’s only gotten worse.” She started nervously chewing on her thumbnail.
Suddenly, what Lewis told me about Judge Newcastle being in the ledger and liking to be pissed on by prostitutes, flashed in my mind and turned my stomach. And the fact that I was sipping on pale yellow lemonade didn’t help one bit. Some of it went down the wrong way and I started to cough and choke.
“Are you okay?” asked Sharon putting her wine glass down and patting my back.
“It’s…okay,” I gasped “I’m…fine.” I used my napkin to wipe my watery eyes and gave Sharon a half smile. Damn Lewis and his problems. Sharon was stressed out and heartbroken and finding out her father was a piss-loving pervert who cheated on her mom with hookers would pro
bably push her right over the edge. There was no way I could hand over that ledger to her.
“Do you ever hear from Carl?” she asked before draining her wine glass. She waved our server over but to my relief just asked for a glass of water. I wasn’t up for driving an inebriated lawyer home.
“No.” Technically that was a lie. He had sent me a letter. But his intentions were to say goodbye and not to stay in touch.
“That’s probably for the best. I wanted a clean break, but Alex is insisting he still wants to be friends. I’m having a hard time moving on when he keeps calling and coming over.”
“Maybe he’s hoping you’ll change your mind.”
“Hardly. I’m pretty sure he’s already dating someone else.” Her eyes filled with tears and I didn’t know what to say. I started to reach out and squeeze her hand, but she put her hands in her lap. Thankfully, our food arrived.
We ate in silence for a while and I noticed for someone who claimed she was starved; Sharon picked at the meatloaf and pushed the smashed potatoes around on her plate like she was trying to be polite. I, on the other hand, practically inhaled the contents of my plate trying not to be annoyed over her wasting good food.
“Can I ask you something, Kendra?” she said, putting down her fork, probably glad for an excuse not to have to put it in her mouth.
“Sure.”
“Is it true you’ve helped the police solve several murder cases?”
That was the last thing I was expecting. And while it was undoubtedly true I’d managed to get myself involved in more than one murder case. My involvement had been greatly downplayed by the Willow police department. That was much to the delight of a certain newly minted assistant police chief who hated my guts even before she started dating a good friend of mine. In fact, I seriously doubt Trish Harmon would even have her new job if I hadn’t stuck my nose into her cases.
“How’d you hear about that?”
“It’s hardly a secret. It used to worry Carl to death.”
“Carl talked about me to you?” Had he really been talking about me to this woman who was practically a stranger?
“No,” she said quickly. “I just happened to be in the Willow police station one day during one of your escapades and overheard Carl talking about you to one of our mutual colleagues. He was afraid you’d get yourself into some real trouble one day if you didn’t learn how to mind your own business.”
“Oh,” I said a bit taken aback. It’s not like I hadn’t known that’s what my ex thought. But still it stung slightly to have him talking about me like I was a child. And I realized yet again how inevitable our break up had been. I wasn’t quite sure I liked Sharon labeling what I’d been through multiple times as escapades. It made it all sound so trivial.
“I’m really not trying to be nosy,” she pressed on when I fell silent. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What kind of a proposition?”
“I have a small budget I can use to hire consultants to help when I’m working on a case. I never really used it before because I’ve haven’t needed to. Most of the cases I’ve worked on have ended in plea deals and probation. Lewis Watts is the first client I’ve had who’s been charged with two first-degree murder charges. I need all the help I can get.”
“And you want my help?”
“Yes.”
“Uh…I’m not sure how you think I can help you,” I said slowly, realizing I’d said almost the exact same thing to Lewis that morning.
“You can talk to people and get information that I can’t. No one will suspect anything if you start asking questions. I could hire a private eye, but there aren’t any in Willow. They would have to come from Columbus or Dayton, and they’d just stick out like a sore thumb in a town this small. I can pay you. Those other cases didn’t earn you a dime, did they?” she asked.
Of course, they hadn’t. The only thing I’d earned was the satisfaction of helping to solve a murder. I hadn’t expected or needed anything more. But now the promise of some much-needed extra cash sounded too good to turn down. And we were talking about Lewis Watts, after all. I’d already earned some kind of compensation because he’d contaminated my apartment and gotten me involved in his mess.
“But, I know Lewis. Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest if you paid me to help you?”
“Not as long as any information you find is obtained legally. I can only pay you for any useful the information you can dig up. It has to be stuff I don’t already know.”
I thought about my poor car in the shop and my $1,000 insurance deductible. I was going to have to bite the bullet and ask to borrow from Mama to pay that sum. Then I thought about the ledger. I felt guilty for holding on to it. But now I agreed with Lewis. I couldn’t turn it over to Sharon. However, if I were a consultant, I could fill two needs, my money issues and helping Lewis, with one deed. I still had no idea how to help him. And if I at least tried, then my conscience would be clear, wouldn’t it?
“Well?” She leaned forward resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. She knew she had me, and I sighed.
“Can I back out if this doesn’t work out?”
“Of course.”
“Okay,” I said, slowly. “I’ll help you.” I knew just who to talk to first—the woman who I’d thought visited Lewis in jail the day I’d gone to see him, Dr. ‘Call Me Joyce’ Kirkland.
Seven
Rhonda came back to work the next day with a box of chocolate cream-filled doughnuts, as well as an apology. I was still kind of hurt. But when I saw her red-rimmed eyes, and realized she was just trying—no matter how misguidedly—to find a way to provide for her kids and keep a roof over their heads, I relented. Plus, I wanted those doughnuts. I pulled her into a bear hug.
“I’m so sorry, Kendra. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her face was pressed into my shoulder and her words were muffled. “I’m so damned scared. The kids are confused. They have no idea what’s going on or why their dad moved out. I just want my family back together.”
“Have you tried counseling?” I gently pulled away and reached over and grabbed a bunch of tissues from my desk and handed them to her. She blew her nose before answering.
“I wanted to try counseling. I begged Dan to go to counseling. But he said he doesn’t love me anymore and he’s been unhappy for a long time. I had no idea he was unhappy, Kendra. He never told me! We had the occasional argument, but for the most part we got along great, and I’m not embarrassed to say we had a wonderful sex life. And she’s not even pretty. She’s got the figure of a ten-year-old boy, short and flat chested, and chinless, with dyed blonde hair and thick glasses. Dr. Sarah Cordell.” She spat out the name like it was poison. “I swear I could just ring her neck.”
“Could this be a midlife crisis?” I asked for lack of anything better to say. I could have pointed out that Dr. Sarah Cordell wasn’t the one who’d stood up in front of God, a minister, and a church full of family and friends and promised to love, honor and forsake all others for her. Dan had. He was the one she needed to strangle. But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She needed someone on her side to listen to her vent. She needed someone to blame. She needed a name for her pain. And I needed a doughnut. I reached out and patted her arm before opening the doughnut box, and we both helped ourselves. I sank my teeth into the thick chocolate icing and a blob of thick, sweet cream spurted into my mouth filling it with the most incredible deliciousness. I could only liken the feeling of pure joy that overcame me to what a junkie must feel like taking a hit from a crack pipe. I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment.
“I don’t know,” she replied miserably as she sank down into her chair. “All I know is since he took up with her he’s like a completely different person. It’s like he’s been kidnapped by aliens or possessed or something. He’s not the man I married.”
“Have you thought about, you know, seeing a counselor by yourself?” I was so busy licking chocolate icing from my fingers that I didn’
t see her horrified expression until I realized she’d stopped talking and looked up. Uh, oh. She looked alarmed and sat her uneaten doughnut down on her desk.
“What do you mean by myself? You don’t think he’s coming back, do you? You think my marriage is over, don’t you?” Her eyes filled with tears again and I wanted to dive inside the doughnut box and close the lid.
“No, Rhonda! No. I just thought counseling might help you to deal with the situation better. You know? Maybe even give you some tips on how to save your marriage. That’s all I meant.”
“Oh,” she said with a heavy sigh and her shoulders sagged. She was silent for a long moment and I licked my lips and tried hard to ignore her abandoned doughnut.
“You’re right,” she finally said, “Because all the crying and begging and pleading I’ve done has had no effect on him at all. In fact, it’s made everything worse and makes him cling to her even harder. It’s like the two of them against the world, and especially me.”
“Then you agree that you need professional help to deal with this, right?” I could hear the students milling around out in the hallway and got up to go unlock the classroom door.
“Yeah, I guess.” She sounded so sad and defeated that I wanted to track Dr. Daniel Hammond down and pull his toenails out one by one with a pair of rusty pliers.
“Good. Because I’m going to stay on your case until you do, got it?” Rhonda nodded reluctantly. And I opened the classroom door so we could start our workday.
I wanted to use the break between the morning and afternoon class sessions to try and talk to Joyce Kirkland, but since Rhonda and I were back on good terms, I didn’t want to do anything that would ruin the peace, like being late back to work. But as soon as class let out at 3:30, I headed over to Kingford College and the Arts & Sciences department in Ellis Hall. The department’s administrative assistant told me that Dr. Kirkland had a full class schedule and would be teaching until seven p.m. Since I had no intention of waiting around for four hours, I left, planning to try and catch her after her last class.