Waffles at the Wake

by Addison Moore

  I inch back. Their shot at what?

  “Beats me.” Flo shrugs as if she could hear me. “But get this. They’re both wearing pink on my big day in my honor. And Lorena said that when she gets married one day, she’s going to have a single pink rose in the pom of white roses as a symbol of her love for me.” She cocks her head to the side. “Not that the girl has any prospects, but hey? One can dream, right?”

  Everett clears his throat, and my attention shoots that way as he gives a subtle nod to the witness as if asking me to pay attention. Little does he know I’d love to, but my attention has been otherwise hijacked.

  The psychologist leaves the stand, and here I’ve missed everything from start to finish once again.

  Great. How am I supposed to give a fully informed verdict? I wonder if seeing through to the other side during proceedings is grounds for a mistrial? I’m thinking it’s not.

  Fiona stands and walks to the front. “Your Honor, the defense would like to call another witness.” She turns to the jury and smiles. “I’d like to call Allison Gray to the stand.”

  A slight gasp emits from the visitors in the observation area.

  Everett raises his brows as if this surprised him, too, on some level.

  Allison Gray makes her way to the stand, offering a shy smile our way. Her gait is quickened and her cheeks are picking up color.

  Dillard leans my way. “Did you see that?” he whispers. “She looked right at me. I think maybe there’s a connection there.”

  I can’t help but make a face at him. “She’s on trial. I doubt she’s trying to connect with you,” I whisper back.

  Annie leans in. “She could be,” she hisses. “I’m this close to getting the number to the People’s Wolfe.”

  I avert my eyes just as Everett slams his gavel and the three of us look his way in fear.

  “That’s enough,” he says it firmly yet slowly. “There will be no whispering amongst yourselves for the duration of this trial. Should it happen again I’ll be forced to find you both in contempt.”

  “Sorry,” I mouth, and his brows dip as he frowns.

  Fiona clears her throat as she shakes her head at me. “I’ll try not to bore you.”

  Flo brays like a donkey with laughter. “Oh, come on, Lottie. You have to admit, that was hot. I’d make sure that man found me in contempt. There’s not a woman in this room who’s not imagining him naked underneath that robe of his.”

  “Oh, stop it.” I meant to mouth the words but ended up hissing them instead.

  My entire body seizes as I look to Everett, and his eyes are frozen over mine.

  Great, the one person he needs to call into contempt, and it happens to be his wife. Leave it to me to humiliate the man in front of God and his co-workers.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” He nods to Fiona. “Proceed.”

  I’m pretty sure that wasn’t legal ease. It’s safe to say, I owe Everett for keeping both me and the baby out of the pokey.

  Fiona asks Allison how she met Carter and how their relationship started off, and it all falls in line with what we’ve heard. She met him at the dealership, and they hit it off so well they were in a serious relationship in no time. Sort of like Noah and me. But we didn’t meet at a dealership. I met him at his PI office and asked him for a loan. Long story short, I thought he was a banker. Boy, did I get that wrong. But in a twist of fate that only true love could bring, Noah ended up buying my kitchen appliances for the bakery with the money he received as an inheritance when his father supposedly died. It’s twisted, I know.

  Without realizing it, I’ve missed a good chunk of questions, no thanks to my daydreaming, and I’m so appalled, I force myself to listen.

  “Allison”—Fiona starts—“when did things take a dark turn for Carter and you?”

  “About last March. He said he was stressed at work. His sales were low, I guess, and he started drinking and then shoving me around.”

  “Did you tell him to stop?”

  She swallows hard, her eyes flitting our way. “I told him that I understood, but that he couldn’t touch me that way again.”

  “Did you tell anyone what had happened?”

  “No.”

  “And did he touch you that way again?”

  She nods. “Three more times. And with each episode, he grew more violent.”

  “And you still told no one?”

  She glances to the floor. “I was too ashamed.”

  “Then why go back to Carter’s house the day he called?” Fiona shrugs. “You could have easily told him to leave your belongings on the porch or had a friend pick them up.”

  She glances to the floor again, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I wanted to believe he could change. When I arrived at his house, he was making dinner. It smelled amazing. He said we could talk, that he hadn’t been drinking and that he wanted to apologize. I was raised to believe the best in people, and I wanted to believe the best in him.”

  “Take me through the events of that night.”

  “I stepped into his house. I saw a box with my things, so I knew he was serious about wanting me to pick them up. I told him dinner smelled good, and he asked if I wanted to stay.” She shrugs. “I said yes.”

  “Did things get physical, Allison?”

  “Yes.” She looks to the jury and nods. “We started talking about the way things used to be, and he asked if we could go back to the good days. He promised there wouldn’t be any more bad days. He said if I gave him another shot he would be a totally different person.”

  “Pfft.” Flo shakes her head. “Honey, if you believed that, I’ve got a bridge I could sell you that leads right to the other side.”

  “And you believed him?” Fiona asks with her own air of disbelief.

  “No.” Allison takes a gulping breath. “That’s when he started to unravel. He started to say things like no one else can have you, and you’ll be mine forever, and then before I knew it, his hands were over my neck and I couldn’t breathe. I saw the knife on the counter from the corner of my eye, and I grabbed it without thinking. That’s when”—she blows out a slow breath—“that’s when it happened.”

  “That’s when what happened, Allison?”

  “That’s when I decided enough was enough.”

  Flo breaks out into a spontaneous applause. “You tell ’em, hon! Nobody but nobody lays their hands on you. My daddy taught me that.” She winks my way, and I give an appreciative nod in return.

  Allison clears her throat. “He was going to kill me,” she says, looking right at me.

  “Objection.” Mr. Wolfe jumps to his feet. “Leading the jury.”

  “Overruled,” Everett insists. “Go on, Ms. Gray.”

  Allison shudders. “I just wanted to live. I tried to beg him to stop, but I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe. I figured in that moment it was him or me.”

  “Do you recall how many times you stabbed Mr. Cameron?”

  “No. I wasn’t even aware of what happened until he fell and I saw the blood. There was so much blood. I couldn’t leave it that way. His mother stopped by unannounced on occasion. And I was too afraid to call the police. I was afraid they wouldn’t believe me, so I—I cleaned it up as best as I could, dragged him to the living room, and set him in his favorite chair. It was all a terrible mistake, and I feel bad about it.”

  “Your Honor”—Fiona nods his way—“we would like to present photographic evidence to corroborate Ms. Gray’s story.”

  “Objection,” Mr. Wolfe calls out. “I’d like to call for a sidebar to view the material before it’s presented to the jury.”

  Fiona looks to Everett. “Judge Baxter, the material is evidentiary regardless of counsel’s viewing.”

  “Proceed,” Everett says, much to the prosecution’s dismay.

  Fiona points a small remote at what looks to be a large screen television that sits to the right of the jury box, and it lights up with a series of pictures, ten at least, in which Allison Gray
is posing for the camera, black and blue, battered and bruised.

  The entire room gasps at once as Fiona takes us frame by frame, looking in depth at large, dark welts along Allison’s bare arms, her thighs and torso covered in bruises of every shape and color.

  Fiona lifts her chin to her client. “Did Carter Cameron give you these bruises?”

  “Yes,” Allison says it loud and crisp as she looks right at me. “He did that to me. With his own hands, he hit me.”

  “Who took these pictures, Allison?”

  “I took them myself. I made copies, and I also sent digital copies to my mother.” She nods to a tearful woman in the front row.

  “And why did you do that?”

  She takes a breath. “Because if anything ever happened to me, I wanted her to know who was responsible.”

  A stunned silence fills the courtroom as every one of us tries to absorb the horror from those pictures.

  The poor woman was bloodied to a pulp. No human should have to endure what she did. If anyone ever did that to Evie, I’d kill them myself.

  “Allison, why do you think Carter never hit you on the face?”

  The girl’s chest bucks. “So the world wouldn’t know what he was capable of.”

  Fiona nods to Everett. “The defense rests.”

  “Very well.” Everett looks to the deputy DA. “Mr. Wolfe? Would you like to cross-examine the witness?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Wolfe steps forward, and Annie belts out an audible sigh as if she were the president of his fan club, and at this point she just might be.

  Flo raises a brow. “Can’t blame the girl, Lot. The dude’s a hottie.”

  “Ms. Gray, you purchased a movie ticket about ten minutes prior to arriving at Carter Cameron’s home. Why is that?”

  “I thought I would see a movie.” She shakes her head as if she didn’t understand what he’s getting at.

  “But you knew that Carter had invited you to arrive at his house about ten minutes after that movie was set to begin. Could you have purchased that movie ticket in order to have an alibi because you arrived at Carter Cameron’s home with a premeditated plan to kill him that day?”

  “Objection,” Fiona shouts.

  “Sustained.” Everett gives Mr. Wolfe a stern look. “No conjecture, please. Go on.”

  Mr. Wolfe closes his eyes a moment. “Ms. Gray, those bruises in those photographs—that is clearly you in the image.” He glowers at the screen a moment because it’s clear Fiona bested him. “Did you give those bruises to yourself?”

  Fiona stands as the entire courthouse breaks out into deafening groans at the below the belt hit.

  “Objection,” she sings, and Everett nods.

  “Overruled. Ms. Gray, might I remind you, you are under oath. Answer the question, please.”

  She takes another breath before leaning forward. “No. I did not give those bruises to myself. It was Carter who gave them to me.”

  Mr. Wolfe stares at Allison Gray an inordinate amount of time. You can see the frustration in his eyes as he’s slow to concede.

  “Your Honor, the prosecution rests at this time.”

  Wow.

  The fellow jurors and I take a collective breath of relief.

  It’s over. And we survived.

  But, Carter Cameron didn’t survive, and I suppose that’s the point.

  Everett lets us know that bright and early tomorrow we’ll hear closing arguments and then move straight into deliberations.

  And before I know it, the day is done.

  Now to move on to the night.

  Flo gives a devilish grin my way. “You look like you’ve had a hard day, honey.” She gives a wink my way. “Nothing a little time at the strip club won’t cure. And I have a feeling the good judge will forgive you for all those outbursts if you let him tag along.”

  Here’s hoping she’s right.

  Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club, here we come.

  Rocky Romero had better be ready to spill his guts, especially about the things that Flo is trying to keep away from me.

  Chapter 13

  Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club is located right smack in the armpit of Leeds.

  Leeds sits just south of Honey Hollow, and it’s a hard town with a hard reputation but is generally populated with nice people if you’re not counting the mob. But since the mob presence is very real here, it’s a town I’d rather avoid than visit.

  Of course, tonight’s visit is practically a requirement. Everett agreed to join me, but contrary to Flo’s comment back at the courthouse, he has no real interest in the scantily dressed—or undressed as it were—women on stage. Everett truly only has eyes for me.

  “Noah should be here soon,” Everett says as soon as we step into the club. The interior of this questionably moral establishment lives up to the hue in its moniker. The walls are covered with red damask, the carpet is crimson, the lights are dim, and you guessed it, fire engine red, and the seats and tables share the same fiery hue. Loud cheesy music belts from the speakers as girls who wear nothing more than G-strings and pasties dance on the stage that jettisons into the middle of the room.

  The waitresses share the same attire, and judging by the men waving dollar bills in the air, it’s a winning look on both waitresses and dancers alike.

  “You called Noah?” There’s a twinge of a whine in my voice. “Noah is going to ruin everything. This placed is owned by the Canellis, and they are all too familiar with who Noah is.” It’s true. The Canellis not only own the place, but they run all sorts of dubious businesses in the underground—both physical and literal—portion of this place. There’s a full casino, a loan shark division, and a freaky sex club that I once found my mother lurking in. I wish I were kidding about any of that, especially that part about my mother.

  “Lot Lot!” an all too familiar voice calls to me from the bar.

  “Speaking of mothers,” I mumble to myself as Everett and I head over to where Carlotta is seated. And the closer I get, the more I’m forced to squint as I try to make out her outfit. Carlotta seems to be dressed in a black bustier with a green tulle skirt, and I think… “Are those peacock feathers?” I reach out to touch one, and she smacks me on the hand.

  “You bet your nosey little bottom they are. No touchin’. It’s my anniversary with Harry, and I wanted to surprise him. Meg’s gonna let me hop on stage and do a little number. We’ve been working on it all week.”

  “You’ve been dating for a year?” Everett seems a touch amused, as he should be since Carlotta and Harry use the term dating loosely.

  “Now come on, Sexy.” She jabs her straw into her fruity looking drink. “This isn’t eleventh grade anymore. It’s the anniversary of when we met. Harry heard I was having trouble in biology and offered to tutor me after school.”

  “What grade was that?” I ask.

  “Eleventh.”

  “Figures.” I shake my head. “And then he knocked you up?”

  “Nah, we didn’t get to that until after junior prom.”

  “Lovely.”

  Everett straightens. “Evie’s going to junior prom this year.”

  “Yeah”—Carlotta shrugs—“but she’s going to the Winter Formal before that.” She gives a wistful tick of the head. “I may have gotten knocked up during junior prom, but the Winter Formal was my introduction to Harry’s—”

  “I think we get the picture.” I motion for the bartender. “Whiskey neat for him,” I say quickly. Hopefully, if I can get Everett nursing a drink, I might get a moment alone with Rocky. Everett is pretty intimidating. I don’t see a tough mobster opening up about his feelings around a man built like he could step onto a college football field and toss the ball.

  “Nice try, Lemon. It’s not happening.” He cuts the air with his hand at the bartender and kills all of my whiskey dreams in the process. “I’ll need all my senses about me.”

  “Don’t worry, Lot. Give me your coat.” Carlotta helps me strip off my outer layer and quickly chucks it b
ehind the bar. “Now go on and walk around a bit. These men are doling out the big bills to the full-figured gals, and right now you qualify. I’ll let you borrow a couple of feathers, but we’re gonna have to split the take.” She quickly pokes three elongated feathered plumes into the bowtie in the back of my dress before I can protest.

  Everett leans in. “Keep the feathers, Lemon. I can work with those.”

  I bite down on a naughty smile. “Looking forward to it. And for the record, you are a generous tipper.” It’s true, even though we use a whole other currency behind closed doors.

  Meg and Noah pop up at the same time, and I say hello to them both and give my baby sister a hug.

  She’s donned black leather pants and a matching bustier. Her midnight-colored hair is bushy and wild, and her eyes are sirening out like a couple of icy glaciers.

  She pulls back and makes a face at the feathers poking up from my rear.

  “You’re going for a mother-daughter act, I see. We’ll move it back about forty-five minutes. That gives the boys a little more time to sauce up. How are you doing, Judge Baxter? You look like someone ran you over with a steamroller.”

  “A sexy steamroller,” Carlotta adds.

  “Tough day in court?” Noah smacks him on the back before landing a kiss to my cheek. “How’s the baby?”

  “The baby is doing great.” I wince over at Everett. “I, however, may have tried the judge’s patience once again.”

  Carlotta chuckles. “Fess up, Sexy. What did she do? Show a little knee while making her way to the jury box?”

  Meg waves her off. “Knowing Lottie, she was blowing him kisses the entire time.”

  “More like blowing me off.” Everett dips his chin as his eyes narrow in on mine. “Lemon had a case of the whispers. And when I asked her to stop, she just kept right on going.” He gives a short-lived smile, and I can’t help but giggle.

  “Good for you, Lottie.” Noah sheds a dimpled grin. “It’s about time you gave him hell.” He shakes his head over at his old stepbrother. “You’re not holding this girl down.”