“So what happened then?”
“I asked him to give her up. Stop cheating on me.”
“And?”
“He refused. At that time. I’m sure it was a tough decision for him.”
“How so?”
Andrea paused. It was evident that this was a difficult part of the story to tell, not because it was embarrassing but because she couldn’t find the words to express it properly.
Andrea looked at Christina levelly. “You’re a woman.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you married? “
Christina shook her head. “But I have been.”
“Then you’ll understand. Joe and I were very young when we married. Very, very young. Babies, really. I’d like to say we had a deep and profound spiritual linkage or something like that but, the truth is, I think it was mostly hormones.”
Christina allowed herself a small smile. “I’ve been there.”
“Yeah. Not that I didn’t love him with all my heart and soul. But in the early days, he was a force to be reckoned with. Between the sheets. And I’m not exaggerating.”
“Did that change?”
“Alas, yes. You know how it is. The nasty part of growing old together is that you also grow up. Our … interests changed. His changed a lot. And so did mine, for that matter. We were still cordial and affectionate, but … sexually …” Her hands spread in a helpless manner. “We became distant. So it really shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise that he was screwing around.” She paused. “Shouldn’t have been. But it was.”
Christina nodded. Andrea appeared to be relaxing, settling into the story. She was relieved, and a bit flattered, that the woman felt comfortable enough to discuss these intimate and unpleasant matters with her. “So what did you do when he refused to break it off with Keri Dalcanton?”
Again the level look. “You’re a woman. What would you do?”
“I’d have a few words with Keri Dalcanton.”
Andrea brought her finger around to touch the tip of her nose. “Ding-ding-ding.”
“That must’ve been hairy.”
“It was. Caught her in that crummy apartment where she lived, where she and Joe used to go. She was watching some exercise program on the tube, working out. Wearing one of those sport bras with a matching headband. There she was, silvery hair, big boobs, the works. The child my husband chose to be unfaithful with. I just about died.”
“Did you talk?”
“I thought she’d be reasonable. I thought once she knew there was another woman in the picture, one who wasn’t going away, she’d back off.”
“No such luck?”
“No. Instead I had to hear a lot of crap about what a pistol my man was, about how he and she were heartmates, whatever the hell that is. I think they must’ve carved their initials in a tree or something. I mean, she was talking like a teenager. Hell, she was a teenager. Except the man she was talking about was my husband.”
“That must’ve stung.”
“It got worse. ‘You can’t satisfy Joe.’ That’s what she said to me. ‘You can’t give him what he wants. He wants me.’ ” Her jaw stiffened. “It was—it was just more than I could take.”
Christina reached across the table and squeezed Andrea’s hand. “You hit her, didn’t you?”
“How’d you know?”
“ ’Cause I would’ve.”
Andrea almost smiled. “It was more than just a slap on the chops, I’m afraid. I really went after her, just as I had gone after Joe. We had a regular catfight. We were rolling around on the floor, bumping into her exercise equipment. Tramp got her smelly sport bra all over me.”
“How did it end?”
“The cavalry arrived, in the form of her brother, Kirk. He shares the apartment with her, or used to, anyway. He broke it up. Though not before I got a few good strokes in, I’m happy to say.”
“So you left?”
“Not immediately. I had to put up with a tongue-lashing from Kirk first. Have you met him?”
“Not really,” Christina answered. “I’ve seen him in the courtroom.”
“We’re talking about a man with major issues.”
“Like what?”
“You name it. Sexual ambiguity. Inability to hold a job. Religious guilt. And he’s absolutely irrational on the subject of his sister. He lives and breathes for that girl. There’s nothing he won’t do to protect her.”
“So what did he say to you?”
“I don’t remember the exact words, but the gist of it was, Get out and stay out. He thought I posed some kind of threat to Keri. And he wasn’t far wrong, either.”
“You had cause.”
“Yeah, I thought so, but he didn’t see it that way. So I scrammed. If this mess was going to get solved, I realized, it would be without the help of the teenage tramp and her psycho sibling.”
“May I ask what you did?”
Andrea leaned back in her chair. “Hey, we’ve come this far together. I can’t leave you hanging.” She flashed a quick, if bitter, smile, and Christina got a brief taste of the luminescent beauty on which the papers had often remarked. “When Joe got home, I laid down the law. Told him I was going to talk to the lawyers and he was about to be divorced. He would be publicly branded an adulterer. Given the tender age of his chosen consort, he might even be kicked off the force. That was what did it, I think. That was when he caved.”
“He agreed not to see her anymore?”
“He did. And he went straight over to her place to give her the bad news. And—well, you know what she did next.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Christina said. She didn’t want to risk the relationship she was developing with this woman, but she had to be honest. “I’ve never been convinced by the so-called evidence the police had on Keri. I think she was just the obvious subject. The cops suspected her from the first and they trumped up some evidence to make it stick.”
“You’re wrong.” Andrea glanced over her shoulder, as if making sure no one was listening. “Absolutely wrong.”
“I know you think Ken is guilty, but—”
“I’m not talking about that. I mean about thinking Keri was the cops’ first suspect. She wasn’t. The obvious suspect was—me.”
Christina’s lips parted. This was the first she’d heard of this.
“I tried not to take it to heart. Any time a married person is killed, the cops’ initial suspect is the spouse. And for a good reason—most of the time the spouse is the one who did it. And of course adultery is one of the most common reasons these crimes happen. And the other most common motive is money—which I stood to get a lot of when Joe died. So in many respects, I was the perfect suspect. Perfectly easy, anyway.” She paused a moment. “But it still hurt, you know? To have this whole horrific event twisted around. To realize people who knew me thought I was capable of murder. That was painful.”
“They must’ve realized relatively quickly that you weren’t the killer.”
“They got a better suspect, if that’s what you mean. I think I might still be under investigation, if not in jail, if they hadn’t found all that incriminating evidence in your client’s apartment. Then she became Suspect Number One.”
“Keri thinks you sent the cops out to her place. She thinks you encouraged the police to go after her, to get revenge for the affair.”
“The girl is only nineteen. She thinks the whole world is one big soap opera.”
“I gather … you don’t care much for Keri?”
“Does it show?”
“Well, I saw you try to break her nose in the courtroom.”
“I guess that was telling, wasn’t it?” Andrea’s lips pressed together pensively. “I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t press charges.”
“Ben convinced her it was not in her best interests. You should be grateful to them both.”
“You’re right, of course. But I’m not. I’m not grateful at all. I hate her.” Her delicate neck stiffened. “Hon
estly, who wouldn’t? I mean, I know hate is a bad thing. I’ve talked to my priest about it, more than once. I’ve worried and I’ve prayed for help. But my God, if you can’t hate the woman who slept with your husband, then killed him, who the hell can you hate?”
A point Christina was not prepared to argue. “I understand your late husband was investigating the Catrona crime family. Did you know anything about that?”
“Not much. No details. I do know Joe got a phone call at home, a few days before he was killed, that disturbed him very much. He was agitated enough to slam the phone down. But he didn’t look angry. It was really more like he was—worried. Or scared.”
“Didn’t you ask what it was all about?”
“I did. But he didn’t tell me. He grunted out, ‘Catrona.’ And that was the end of it. I probably would’ve brought it up again, later. Except your client killed him before I got the chance.”
Christina folded up her legal pad. “I think that about covers it. Thank you very much for talking to me.”
Andrea waved her hand in the air. “Sure. It wasn’t that bad, actually. Not like some of them. You’re a good ear.”
Christina had been told this before, but it was still nice. “If I think of something else, may I call you?”
“Of course.” She fell silent for a moment, and the light in her eyes faded. “I did love Joe, you understand that, don’t you? We had our problems. We disagreed. We fought. Maybe I wasn’t the perfect wife, maybe I didn’t give him everything he wanted. Or even needed. Marriage is not a game of perfect. But even after I knew what Joe’d done, even after I knew I’d been betrayed—I still loved him. With all my heart. And I never wanted to see him come to any harm. Never. And certainly not”—she averted her eyes—“not, like it was. So gross and horrible and—public. No wife should have to endure that. No one should.”
Christina laid her hand on the bereaved woman’s shoulder and simply nodded. There was no arguing with that.
16
BEN HAD VISITED TULSA’S downtown police headquarters half a hundred times, but this was the first instance when he felt as if he were walking into enemy territory. Few times in his life had he had the opportunity to enter a building where he knew everyone present would view him as an absolute pariah. He had considered wearing some sort of disguise—dark glasses and a high collar, at least. But he knew that if he was spotted, that would only make matters worse. He passed on the disguise, but resolved to move as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.
He brushed down the fourth floor corridor till he found the cubicle belonging to Penelope, Mike’s secretary. He ducked inside, avoiding detection.
As usual, Penelope’s desk was piled high with paper and she appeared to be juggling three phone calls at once. As soon as she spotted Ben, however, she brought all conversations to an abrupt end.
“Ben!” It was almost like a hiss, because she was trying to be emphatic but to keep her voice down at the same time. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Ben stared down at a spot on the carpet. “I, uh, need to review a file.”
“Ben, you know I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m not talking about my case,” Ben said hastily. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything inappropriate. This is something entirely unrelated. Something, uh… something Mike and I were working on. Before he had to go out of town.” Not entirely true, of course. In fact, one might say it was totally false. But he felt certain Mike wouldn’t object to the unauthorized use of his name and authority. Not too much, anyway.
“Mike didn’t say anything to me,” she said. Penelope had wide eyes and big brown frizzy hair that might make her seem ditzy and comical if you didn’t know she was one of the most efficient and capable assistants who ever lived. “He didn’t leave any instructions.”
“He probably forgot. He had to disappear in a hurry.”
“That’s true enough.” She gave Ben a long look. Her eyes seemed to soften. “What file do you need?”
“The file on the Catrona crime family.”
Penelope winced. “Geez, Ben. You really know how to pick ’em, don’t you? Haven’t you got enough people who want to kill you already?”
Ben gave a small shrug. “It’s … for a case.” Well, that much was true, anyway.
“I didn’t figure you wanted it for bedtime reading.” She drummed her fingers for a moment. “Well, Mike has always told me to cooperate with you in the past.”
“That’s right.”
“Of course, that was before you became a criminal defendant.”
Ben pursed his lips. The woman’s logic was relentless. “I only need it for an hour or so.” Long enough to get to Kinko’s and plug some quarters into the photocopier.
She pondered a few more moments. “I suppose there’s no harm in that. I’ll get the file. It’ll take a few minutes. Let me warn you in advance—it’s a thick one.”
“Thanks, Penelope. You’re an angel.”
“Yes, but my halo’s getting a bit tarnished. Too much contact with criminals. And their lawyers.”
Ouch! Ben thought, but he could live with it—as long as she produced the file.
And quickly. Christina and the others were certain to return to the office soon, and he wanted to be back before they did. It would spare him answering a lot of unpleasant questions, and no doubt elongating his Pinocchio’s nose. Christina had been firm about his staying out of the investigation, and she was probably right, but he couldn’t just sit on his hands and do nothing, not while Keri’s freedom was on the line—not to mention his own. Besides, Penelope would never give Christina or Loving the file; the only one who had a shot was him. Now if he could just get it and get outta here …
“I don’t believe it. You!”
Ben felt his heart sinking and his blood pressure rising. He didn’t have to turn his head to identify the owner of that belligerent voice.
Matthews. “Son of a bitch. Right here in our own offices.” Matthews stomped directly in front of Ben. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
Ben took a deep breath, trying to remain cool. “This is a public building. I’m a taxpayer. I have as much right to be here as anyone.”
“Like hell. You’ve got your snoop harassing us when we’re off duty, and now you’re shoving your stinking face around our offices. This is too damn much.” Matthews glanced at the nameplate on the desk. “She’s Morelli’s secretary, isn’t she? Trying to worm some favors out of your old college buddy? Maybe hide some more evidence to keep your sorry butt out of prison? That’s what you do best, isn’t it? Weaseling criminals out of their punishments.”
“I’m not the one who botched his case with improperly obtained warrants. That was your stroke of genius.”
“Don’t give me any fancy lawyer talk. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. And I don’t intend to.”
His face contorted with anger, Matthews grabbed Ben by the collar and jerked him up to his feet. “Is that right? Let me tell you something. Joe McNaughton was my partner, and the best man I ever knew. The best. And his murder will not go unpunished. That little blond piece of ass you’re protecting is gonna swing. And maybe you with her!”
“If you don’t let go of me—now—I’ll bring charges for assault. And I’m not just threatening, either. An undeniable case of police brutality right now could do nothing but help me.”
Matthews shoved Ben back, his face twisted with disgust. “You revolting piece of—” He drew in his breath, fighting back the bile. “I’m not going to give you an excuse to pull more of your flashy lawyer tricks. Get the hell out.”
“I’ve got business here. And it isn’t over.”
“Your buddy ain’t here, Kincaid, got it? No one’s gonna help you. There’s no one here who wouldn’t like to take you apart and drown the pieces. So for your own safety, get the hell out.”
“I’m not fin—”
“Do you hear what I
’m saying?” It would be impossible for Ben not to, as the man was barking directly in front of his face. “You just being here is an insult to Joe’s memory. And I’m not gonna let that happen. So don’t make me call security, chump. Get out!”
Ben carefully weighed his options, as much as was possible with the man literally breathing down his neck. He could stand fast, but the scene would only escalate, making it all the more impossible for Penelope to help him. Better to concede for now and hope to come back at a later date. When Matthews was somewhere else.
“I’ll go.” Ben turned and started toward the door, but apparently it offered Matthews a target he couldn’t refuse. Just before he left the cubicle, Ben felt the flat of the man’s shoe on his backside. The kick knocked him across the corridor.
Ben pulled himself together quickly and started toward the elevators. Unfortunately, Matthews’s shouts had attracted too much attention; there was no chance of his getting out as surreptitiously as he got in. Practically everyone working on the fourth floor had emerged from their cubicles and stood at the openings. All over the office, people were scurrying for a better look, jockeying for position. Everyone was staring at him, and the stares did not contain much warmth.
It was like walking the gauntlet. True, no one was beating him with clubs as he passed by, but they were beating him with their eyes, pouring out malice with every glance, and in some ways, that was worse.
Ben had never felt such relief in his life as when he made it to the lobby. He decided waiting for the elevator was too slow, plus he might meet someone inside and start yet another unfortunate scene.
He opted for the stairs. He pushed open the pneumatic door to the stairwell …
And found Penelope waiting for him.
“Decide to get a little exercise?” she asked.
“You could say that. How’d you know I’d take the stairs?”
“Intuition. Also, I could hear Matthews ranting halfway across the building. Did he try to rough you up?”
“More intuition?”
“That, plus the imprint of his shoe on your butt.” She held out a thick manila folder. “Here’s the file. Just mail it back to me. They won’t miss it for a day, and I don’t think you want to come back here.”
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