The Prosecution of General Hastings
Page 11
CHAPTER TEN
Jana sat waiting in the hotel suite. She had dressed in a simple but elegant black shift that had always been one of Jack’s favorites. As she slipped into that dress after her bubble bath she thought of how he used to tease her saying “The only way that dress can look any better is lying in a heap on the floor by the bed.”
As nine o’clock passed, she took out her cell phone and called her husband. The call went directly to voice mail and she left a quick message saying, “It’s just me. You must have been delayed. Wondering if you’re coming to dinner. I’m going to go on down to The Dining Room. I’m famished. Hope to see you soon.”
Jana left the suite and descended in the elevator to the lobby. When she approached the host’s station and announced, “General Hastings…party of two,” Stefan, the maitre d’ looked past her, over her shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” he said, “Did you say ‘two?’”
“My husband will be along shortly. But I’d like to go ahead and be seated, please.” Jana suffered no shyness when it came to forging her own way. She’d had a lifetime of it.
“Please, ma’am, follow me.” Stefan made his way through the room, moderately full of diners and showed her to a table overlooking the street. The temperature had dropped, and a few flakes o snow could be seen illuminated by the streetlights. The forecast for the oncoming snow made sidewalk traffic sparse. As Stefan held the chair for Jana to sit, her waiter, wearing a starched white jacket poured a glass of water.
“Good evening, Madam,” he said. “My name is Ricardo and it will be my pleasure to serve you this evening. I understand someone will be joining you?”
“Yes, my husband should be here soon,” she answered. For a split second, she wondered just how long it would be.
“May I bring you a beverage, ma’am?”
“Yes, that would be good. I’ll just have a glass of wine. What red would you recommend?” she asked. She had already enjoyed two glasses of the Shiraz as she bathed and dressed in the suite. Another wouldn’t hurt.
“We have an excellent pinot noir from the Columbia Valley. Woodbine Estates?” he suggested.
“That sounds fine, Ricardo,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. I will leave you with the menu and be right back with your wine. This evening’s specials are listed here,” he said, handing her an additional card. “I highly recommend the Fried Lobster. It is a specialty that only our chef has perfected.” He paused a second, then turned and left.
Jack Hastings was a basket case. He drove around aimlessly with no idea or plan of where he was going. He soon found himself back on I-235 heading north. He then took the John Kirkpatrick Turnpike, east. His cell phone had rung a couple of times but he ignored it knowing there was absolutely no one that he wanted to talk to. He continued to drive with no conception of time. He had to figure things out. What was he going to do? ‘Keep driving,’ he thought. ‘I just need to think.’
Jana had ordered a starter of fried calamari and another glass of wine. She tried Jack’s cell phone again with the same result. Though she had given her husband the benefit of the doubt, her patience had worn thin… very thin. At five minutes to ten, she asked Ricardo for her check. He returned it with a sheepishly apologetic look as if he understood her frustration. She offered no more excuses for her absent husband as she signed the check to their penthouse suite and abruptly left the restaurant.
Hastings continued to drive east, then headed north toward Stillwater when he reached I-35. After driving for some unknown distance, he exited, crossed over and reentered in interstate heading south. He knew that he had to get back to Jana. He had to explain things. And, yes, he had to go to the Police. But what would he say? It was well after ten o’clock when he exited at NE 23d Street. He would go back to Jana at the hotel and call the Police. She would understand. She would help him get through this, the worst night of his life. But what would he tell her? How could he explain Diana Ricci and what was he doing at her apartment? How could he explain to anybody what he was doing at that apartment?
He was driving west on NE 23d Street, back to the hotel. He pulled up to the stoplight at North Kelley Street, completely focused on the street that lay before him and his path back to the Prairie Plaza and to Jana. The light turned green and he started across Kelley. He heard the single blast of the Police horn and in his rearview mirror saw the blue lights that filled his rear window. His heart sank. He pulled over to the curb after clearing the intersection.