Truly Married

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Fergus laughed. Anna was right. She was beautiful, sophisticated and streetwise. Not exactly the type the court would approve as a chaperon if one were needed.

  “I agree,” he admitted, still chuckling. “The three of us living together are more likely to be looked upon as a ménage à trois, but the last time I checked that wasn’t a hanging offense.”

  He wiped the smile from his face and became serious. “Unless I’m breaking the law, my domestic arrangements are not open to court scrutiny. Sharon and I were married at one time, and we won’t be setting up housekeeping alone together. While you’re not exactly Mary Poppins, your presence will be noted. I don’t anticipate any problem with professional ethics, but is there a man in your life who might object to my moving in?”

  Anna shook her head. “No man makes my decisions, and it’s okay with me if you want to share our house and expenses. You can bring your things over today if you like.”

  Fergus breathed a sigh of relief. He was an idiot even to consider this arrangement. Living with Sharon and not being able to touch her would be torture, but living without her was hell. “Thanks, but I’m flying back to Chicago this afternoon, so I’ll settle up with you financially now and move in when I return.”

  A phone call to the airport had secured him a seat on a two-o’clock flight, so now he barely had time to get back to the hotel, repack the few things he’d brought with him, check out and return his rental car before takeoff. Anna had disappeared after he’d signed the limited-lease agreement and had given her a check, so he was alone with Sharon as he prepared to leave.

  He toyed with the idea of asking her to ride to the airport with him, anything to keep her by his side as long as possible, but decided against it. He was afraid she’d refuse, and he’d had all the rejection from her he could handle for a while.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her goodbye. God how he wanted that, but he knew it would be a big mistake. He’d lose all his carefully constructed control. It was precarious at best, and he couldn’t chance scaring her or making her so mad that she’d fire him on the spot and tell him never to come near her again.

  He was living in a hades of his own making, and it was doubtful that she’d ever even let him back into her good graces, let alone into her life, into her bed.

  As they walked together toward the front door he was careful not to touch her. “You have both my business and home addresses and phone numbers,” he said urgently, “so, please, call me if anything comes up that upsets you or you think I should know about. I’ll be back in two or three days. Meanwhile I’ll be in close touch with Ray Quinlan. If you need anything call him.”

  “Fergus, I’m not a child,” she said firmly. “I don’t need a baby-sitter or a surrogate parent. I know how and where to get help if I need it. Don’t worry about me. Concentrate on defending your hooker.”

  Dammit, she was being spiteful again. “She’s not my hooker,” he growled.

  Sharon looked genuinely startled and put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said apologetically. “Truly I didn’t. It was just a figure of speech.”

  Her wide blue eyes were filled with regret, and all his good intentions melted as he gathered her in his arms and held her close. “I believe you,” he murmured into her silky hair. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Oh, Sharon, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I’m afraid if I do you’ll disappear, like you did before, and I’ll never see you again. Come to Chicago with me.”

  She didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he felt her arms slide around his waist and she snuggled into his embrace.

  “I don’t want you to go, either,” she admitted, much to his relief. “But I can’t go with you. When they released me on bail they told me I couldn’t leave the jurisdiction of the court. Doesn’t that mean I have to stay here?”

  Fergus groaned and cursed himself for an idiot. “Yes, of course it does. I’m not thinking straight. I’ll be back Tuesday at the latest. Meanwhile Ray will continue his search for potential witnesses.”

  It took all the effort he could muster to release her and step back. “Don’t forget, call me if you need me.” He turned and walked away while he still could.

  * * *

  Time seemed to stand still for Sharon after Fergus left, and as the hours dragged into days her apprehension increased. What had she gotten herself into? How could she be happily contemplating a promotion at work one day and be arrested for murder the next? Things like that just didn’t happen to people like her!

  On Sunday morning Ray Quinlan called to say he was going to be visiting his parents next door to her that afternoon, and would it be convenient for him to stop by for a talk? Sharon said yes. Anna would be tied up all day with an open house at one of the homes she had listed for sale, and Sharon was glad to have the company.

  Ray arrived at a little before two, and after the usual coffee and chitchat he got down to business. “I’ve talked to the three women whom you said were also rumored to be victims of Vancleave’s sexual advances. They all admitted it, but none of them want the publicity that their testimony in open court would attract. With a big-shot attorney like Fergus Lachlan representing you there’s bound to be a lot of media coverage.”

  Sharon’s hopes plummeted. She could understand the reticence of the women, but if they didn’t come forward how was she going to prove what a bastard Floyd was?

  “Elizabeth Williams admitted that she’d given in to his threats and intimidation and had a short-term affair with him,” Ray continued, “but she doesn’t want her teenage daughter and her daughter’s friends to know.”

  Sharon sighed. “I don’t blame her, but how about the other two? They don’t have children.”

  Ray made a face. “No, but they have significant others. Judy Irwin told her hot-tempered boyfriend about the harassment, and he confronted Vancleave and threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t back off. There were witnesses, and Judy’s afraid the guy will be a suspect if that ever comes out.”

  Sharon blinked. “Are you sure he isn’t? I mean, maybe he was still mad enough to—”

  “Nah, I checked him out. He has an alibi that isn’t exactly airtight, but it’s good enough to hold up in court. Besides, that incident happened over a year ago, and Vancleave hasn’t bothered Judy since, so there’s no reason to think the boyfriend was still upset about it.”

  Sharon felt a chill of foreboding. “What about Delores?”

  Ray shook his head. “Delores Garroway has a rich and snobbish fiancé, who has her convinced that he’s doing her a favor by marrying her. She says if he knew she’d been sexually harassed he’d claim it was her fault for leading the man on and break the engagement.”

  Sharon was dumbfounded. “Why would she want to marry a man like that?”

  Ray shrugged. “It takes all kinds. I guess she loves the guy. Is there anyone else who was bothered by this supervisor? What about his wife? Did she know what he was up to? Not many wives will put up with that sort of behavior.”

  Sharon slumped against the back of the chair. “Oh Lord, that’s really grabbing at straws. Floyd sure wouldn’t tell her, and Helen Vancleave is such a shy, trusting, almost fragile woman that it’s not likely anyone would want to be responsible for informing her that her husband was cheating on her. Besides, she’s not the type to stab him in a jealous rage. She’d be more apt to let him convince her it was all her fault.”

  “Do you know her well?” Ray asked.

  “Not really. I’ve met her a few times. She’s the stereotypical subservient wife who watched him adoringly and never disagreed with him or had an opinion of her own. Besides, she wasn’t there.”

  Sharon sighed heavily. “Ray, can’t these other people be compelled to testify?”

  Again he shook his head. “We could subpoena them, but even if we did they could deny it ever happened.”

  “But that’s perjury!”

  Ray spread
his hands in resignation. “Honey, it happens. Unless you have proof to the contrary, you can’t force a person to tell the truth if he or she doesn’t want to.”

  Sharon gave in to defeat. So much for her faith in the American system of jurisprudence.

  * * *

  On Tuesday Fergus drove his black Lincoln back to St. Louis. It was midafternoon when he approached the bridge that took him across the Mississippi River and into the sprawling downtown area, ahead of the peak traffic hours.

  He was anxious to get home!

  But since when had St. Louis been home? He resided in Chicago. He’d been born there, owned real estate there, including the apartment he lived in. He was a senior partner in a law firm, and Chicago was his legal voting residence.

  So why was he rushing to get back to a redbrick house in St. Louis that he hadn’t even moved into yet? The answer was so simple he was surprised he’d ever questioned it.

  It was because that’s where Sharon lived.

  A spurt of excitement set his blood to pounding, and he pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal. Would she be there? She wasn’t working, but he’d had a firm talk with the attorneys for the hotel chain, and it had been agreed that she would be paid full salary until the matter of her guilt or innocence was settled. If she was found innocent her job would be there for her to return to.

  The traffic slowed, and he slowed down with it. Guilty or innocent? There was no doubt in his mind, but how was he going to prove that she hadn’t killed Floyd Vancleave? The evidence was stacked a mile high against her.

  Turning off the highway at the next exit, he wound through the peaceful, upper-middle-class streets until he spotted the house and pulled the car to a stop at the curb in front of it.

  He got out and was rounding the front of the car, when the door was thrown open and Sharon came running across the yard to meet him. Picking up his pace, he caught her as she threw herself into his arms. She was soft, and pliant, and smelled of wildflowers and clover. His heart was beating so erratically that for a moment he didn’t even try to speak but just held her.

  He could feel her heart beating, too, as she clung to him, her arms around his neck and her body pressed against his own. He hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic reception. Surely it meant that she’d missed him! That she was glad to see him!

  “Fergus, I’m so happy you’re back,” she said breathlessly as she hugged him. “Ray just called a few minutes ago. He said he’s found another woman that Floyd hit on, and she’ll be happy to testify for us. This one isn’t afraid of the publicity.”

  Fergus almost groaned aloud as disappointment rolled through him in waves. It was his own fault that he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. She’d told him often enough that she had no intention of getting personally involved with him again. He should be sharing her jubilation instead of wallowing in self-pity.

  Well, he’d put on a good show. After all, that’s what he’d been trained to do. The art of being a good trial lawyer depended as much on theatrics as skill.

  She’d already started to wiggle out of his embrace, when he found his voice and managed to instill the proper amount of enthusiasm in it. “Hey, that’s great, but you mustn’t get your hopes up too high, honey. We’ll have to check out this woman’s story first.”

  He hated to dampen her excitement, but he’d learned not to put too much faith in a witness who was eager to testify at a criminal trial. They often had an ax to grind with either the accused or the defendant, and weren’t above embellishing the facts. That type could do more harm than good to whichever side they were championing.

  Sharon backed away from him, and the radiance that had shimmered around her had been replaced by a cloud of dejection.

  “But why do you think she might not be telling the truth?” she gasped. “She called Ray with her story. He didn’t coerce her or anything, and she’s willing to testify. None of the women I told him about will.”

  Fergus felt like the lowest form of life for quelling her optimism. Who knows, maybe this witness was just the one they’d been looking for? But then again, maybe she wasn’t, and it would be just that much more painful for Sharon if he encouraged her to build her hopes and dreams around a phantom.

  “I know, Sharon,” he said, hoping he could make her understand. “Ray and I have been in close touch while I’ve been away. I know our other witnesses have been reluctant to get involved, but we can’t pin our hopes on someone who walks in off the street, either.”

  He put his arm around her waist and led her back toward the car. “Let me take my suitcases in the house so I can freshen up a little, and maybe you’ll offer me a drink. Then we can relax and talk. Okay?”

  * * *

  Half an hour later Sharon was in the kitchen, fixing Fergus a tall cool vodka tonic, when he came downstairs and joined her. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he’d changed into crisp, tan Dockers and a green plaid short-sleeve shirt open at the neck.

  She wondered if she’d ever get her feelings under control enough that her heart wouldn’t pound at the sight of him.

  “Sorry I took so long,” he said with a smile, “but I’ve been on the road all day, and that brisk stinging shower was a godsend. Can I help you with that?”

  He held out his hand and she put the chilled glass in it. “It’s all finished,” she said with an equally determined smile. “Why don’t you go into the living room and sit down? I’ll be along as soon as I pour myself some plain soda.”

  He didn’t leave, but leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. “I want to stay here and watch you. I missed you, Sharon.”

  He sounded wistful, and his admission flustered her. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said softly, and knew that was a deliberate understatement.

  She’d missed him in ways he’d never believe. In ways she’d neither expected nor wanted to. She’d missed that curious blend of expensive shaving lotion and male scent that was so uniquely his. The one that was nearly her undoing when he’d clasped her in his arms outside on the lawn after she’d run out to meet him.

  She’d missed that aura of protectiveness that wrapped her so securely in its cloak. In the five years that she’d been alone she’d learned not to need a man to lean on, but now she knew that she’d never learned not to need Fergus.

  She was alarmingly certain that was one lesson she’d never master.

  And most of all she’d missed him. His tender smile, his tough yet gentle hands, his green eyes, hooded but watchful, and his arms. Oh yes, his strong, sheltering arms that told her far more efficiently than words that she was a vulnerable woman who longed for his deep and undivided love.

  But was he capable of giving that? He hadn’t been before, and she wasn’t capable of sharing his love with another woman.

  “Are you anxious about tomorrow?” he asked. “You needn’t be. It’s just a hearing to determine if there’s enough evidence to go to trial.”

  Apparently that was supposed to make her feel better, but in reality she was terrified. “So you’ve said, but could you give me some idea of what’s going to happen?”

  She picked up her glass and headed for the living room. Fergus followed and they sat down together on the couch facing the fireplace.

  “Will I have to testify?” she asked as she sipped her soda.

  “No,” Fergus said. “The state will produce witnesses and I’ll cross-examine. I’m allowed to try to discredit their witnesses, but this is the district attorney’s show. We don’t present a defense at this time.”

  “But...but that’s not fair!” she sputtered angrily.

  Fergus took a large swallow of his drink. “I know it seems that way, but you don’t need to defend yourself until you’ve been charged with something. This is just another step in the justice system. The state doesn’t need to show proof of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. All they have to show is probable cause. A reasonable suspicion that Vancleave was murdered and you did it.”

  Sharon sh
rank against the back of the sofa. “And if the judge finds probable cause?”

  Fergus set his glass down on the coffee table and looked at her. “Barring a miracle, he will, Sharon. You’d better accept that as fact. The case against you is too strong to find otherwise. You’ll be charged and bound over to superior court for trial.”

  Even though she’d known that was likely to happen, the horror of Fergus’s words sent chills down her spine.

  “But I didn’t do it!” she cried plaintively. “Why won’t anyone believe me? I wasn’t even there!”

  Fergus reached out and gathered her into his embrace, warming her with his heat and his compassion. “I believe you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he trailed kisses in her hair. “I’ll find a way to make the jury believe you, too, but you will have to stand trial. There’s no way I can prevent that.”

  Another terrifying thought crossed Sharon’s mind. “Do you think the charge will stick?”

  “Not as long as I have a license to practice law,” he said grimly. “They’ll probably go for murder two, but I’m going to argue for involuntary manslaughter. That way, we can compromise on voluntary man.”

  She shivered and forced herself to ask, “What is the sentence for that?”

  Fergus tightened his arms around her. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to let you be convicted. We’ll waive your right to a speedy trial so we’ll have time for a thorough investigation.”

  She pushed back and looked at him. “But I want a speedy trial.”

  He blinked in surprise. “No, honey, you don’t understand. We need all the time we can get to prepare a defense. The district attorney is the one who usually benefits from a speedy trial, while the witnesses are still sure of what they saw and heard. While the evidence is still fresh and the case is being tried in the press.”

  She wasn’t getting through to him. “No, Fergus, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. My life has been put on hold until this mess is settled. I can’t work, I can’t leave town, some of my friends think I’m guilty. I won’t live like this. I need to be exonerated.”