Beauty vs. the Beast
Page 16
“Ms. Kellogg and I are due back in court in less than twenty-five minutes. I must find something between now and then to wear in place of my ruined suit coat, which you’re now holding as evidence.”
“Now, wait just a min—”
But Damian didn’t wait. Not even for a second. He pivoted sharply and walked away. As Kay scurried to keep up with him, she stole a glance at his profile. It was calm and serene, just as it had been throughout the difficult interview with that difficult man.
Yes, Damian Steele was a superbly disciplined man. Even the dangerous part of him that Kay occasionally sensed below his surface calm seemed a servant to that splendid discipline.
Only once had she seen him lose control—Sunday afternoon on Lake Union, when he had held her so closely and cursed that speedboat operator so magnificently.
Kay moved closer to his side as they headed for the door. “There’s no reason to rush. I’ll go to Judge Ingle and obtain a continuance until tomorrow.”
“If you tell the judge about the threatening notes and the fire, the press will get hold of the story. I think this letter writer wants that to happen.”
“You think that’s why this sicko is doing it?”
“Whoever slipped that envelope rigged to burst into flames in my pocket did so to see and hear about the result. The person is probably eagerly waiting for news this very moment.”
“And you don’t want him to get it?”
“Or her. No.”
“Because you think if the sicko doesn’t receive satisfaction, he’ll stop?”
“Possibly.”
“But what if not receiving satisfaction just goads this person into doing something else? Something even rasher, perhaps?”
“That’s also a possibility.”
“He could decide to send a letter bomb next. What if—”
“Don’t worry. I was caught off guard this time. I’ll be prepared if there’s a next time.”
“Damian, since you obviously had this all figured out, why didn’t you explain it to Detective Roth?”
“Roth wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.”
Kay couldn’t argue. She knew he was right. “You realize you’ll never be able to buy a new coat before court resumes.”
“Then I’ll roll up my scorched sleeve, keep my bandaged hand under the table and appear with no coat. You said the jury’s mulling over Fedora’s testimony all through the lunch hour would be harmful, and I agree. Letting it stand overnight would be worse. The longer a point of view is held, the harder it is to extinguish. Whatever you can do to challenge the woman’s testimony needs to be done this afternoon.”
He was right, of course. Again. It was getting to be an irritating habit. Still, Kay hesitated. “We never got a chance for lunch. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I can wait. But you’re the one who has to be thinking on her feet. There’s a grill down the street. We could get something quick to go.”
A grill? Seared flesh? After seeing his injury? No way. “I’ve rather lost my appetite,” Kay admitted aloud. “Besides, I think we’d make better use of our dwindling time by taking a trip to the lost and found at the courthouse.”
“The lost and found?” Damian repeated, obviously surprised.
“Yes. You wouldn’t believe the selection of coats, jackets and sweaters that people have left around the building. Just tell them you lost a sweater and suit coat and they’ll bring out the bunch. You’re bound to find something that fits and that works with your suit slacks. I’ll help you pick it out.”
A charming smile raised the corners of his mouth. “Well, well. I am truly shocked. The ethical Ms. Kellogg not only suggesting a theft, but offering to aid and abet. And as we’re walking through a police station, too.”
That smile of his was too damn infectious. Kay had difficulty sprinkling the proper amount of starch on her tone.
“You’re not stealing the clothing. You’re borrowing it. Have whatever you select cleaned before you return it, and your conscience should be clear.”
“Should it?”
“Are you one of those sneaky psychologists who always answers a question with a question?”
“Are you one of those sneaky lawyers who never answers a question?”
His ruggedly charming grin perfectly matched the deep, green glint in his eyes. No one could have guessed what he’d just been through. He possessed real strength—the kind that wouldn’t let adversity break his stride. Damn, but this guy could be absolutely irresistible. And for once, Kay didn’t even try to resist. She beamed back at him.
“I like your smile,” he said as he curled her hand into the crook of his arm. “Very much.”
And she liked being this close to him, feeling the strong muscles of his forearm beneath her hand, inhaling the exciting male scent of him. She liked it way too much.
And then there it was again. That strange, warm sensation, streaking down the back of her thighs.
Stop signs and red warning lights flashed in her mind. This was not the way an attorney felt about or behaved with a client. Particularly not her and particularly not with this client.
She should move away. She didn’t.
What was happening to her? Why were all the inescapable conclusions of her infallible logic no longer able to push her away from this man and let her reestablish her professional distance?
We are all just mysteries, waiting to unfold, his words repeated in her mind. She was beginning to think he was right about that, too. Too damn right.
Trouble lay ahead. Plenty of it. With the trial. With this kook who had targeted Damian. With these illogical, crazy, exciting feelings she had for this man. No matter what direction she looked in, Kay Kellogg saw herself in a lot of trouble.
* * *
“MRS. NYE, are you feeling better?” Kay asked of the obviously nervous woman in the witness box.
Damian watched a look of surprise steal over Fedora’s face. He suspected that Croghan had told his client to be prepared for an adversarial attack from Kay. The solicitous inquiry left the woman clearly off balance—which Damian suspected was just what Kay had intended.
“I’m...better,” Fedora said, obviously uncertain she should be admitting it.
Kay smiled at her. “You had a nice lunch?”
Fedora’s death grip on her purse relaxed a little. “Yes. Mr. Croghan took me to a restaurant. I’m not used to being waited on, so it was a nice change.”
“You’re not used to being waited on?” Kay repeated politely.
“I’m a waitress. I’m usually the one waiting on people.”
“Oh, I see. How long have you been a waitress?”
Fedora leaned back in her chair. Kay’s soft tone, clear attentiveness and encouraging smiles were working to extinguish the woman’s initial nervousness. Her answers were coming faster and far more easily now.
“Twenty-two years.”
“Twenty-two years,” Kay repeated, letting the awe creep into her tone. “That’s a long time. Ever have any problems with your legs from being on your feet all day?”
“Oh, no. I have strong muscles.”
“Developed during the time when you were a cheerleader in high school, no doubt,” Kay said, still with that encouraging tone and smile.
Fedora actually smiled back, seeming to be happy to be reminded of that time. “I certainly exercised them a lot then.”
“How old were you?”
“The year I was a cheerleader?”
“Yes.”
“Sixteen.”
“And how old are you now, Mrs. Nye?”
The question seemed to surprise Fedora. “Thirty-eight.”
Kay paused and let her eyebrows rise. She wasn’t the only one. Damian saw similar surprised looks on several members of the jury, who had obviously been judging by appearance and thought Fedora Nye much older.
“So, it’s been twenty-two years since you were a cheerleader in high school,” Kay continued. “Right around the
same time you started waitressing?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Croghan said you and Roy would have been celebrating your silver wedding anniversary soon if Roy were still around and if you two were still married. When did you marry Roy, Mrs. Nye?”
Fedora answered a bit more hesitantly. “Twenty-two years ago.”
“So you were married to Roy when you were only sixteen?”
Fedora shifted a bit uneasily in her chair. She didn’t look quite as relaxed. “Yes.”
“Did Roy attend the private school where you were a cheerleader and where he came to watch you when the team played?”
“No.”
“What school did he attend?”
“He didn’t attend school. He was older.”
“How much older?”
“Twenty-one.”
Kay paused again to raise an eyebrow.
“Did your parents know you were seeing this man who was so much older?”
Her voice lost some of its volume. “No. They didn’t allow me to date at all.”
“But they allowed you to marry at sixteen?”
Fedora’s chin sank to her chest. Her voice got even smaller. “I...had to.”
Kay’s voice remained soft, understanding. “Because Roy got you pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Because if Roy hadn’t married you, your father was going to have him prosecuted for statutory rape?”
“Your Honor, I object!” Croghan bellowed. “This is totally irrelevant!”
“On the contrary. It is totally relevant,” Kay said. “These incidents explain the character of the personality known as Roy.”
“Roy is not on trial here!” Croghan protested.
“But he is!” Kay answered. “Your Honor, the plaintiff’s attorney has painted the Roy personality as a loving husband and father. Defense is fully entitled to test this characterization to see just how well it holds up.”
“Right you are,” Ingle said, his eyes bright in anticipation. “Objection overruled. Go for it, Ms. Kellogg.”
Kay’s voice remained soft as she turned back to Fedora. “Mrs. Nye, is it true that your father had Roy arrested for statutory rape?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true that if Roy hadn’t married you, your father was going to have him prosecuted on that charge?”
“But he didn’t. Roy married me. And he never divorced me, not through all those years.”
“Let’s talk about those years, Mrs. Nye. You testified this morning that Lee divorced you four years ago, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“So, in fact, you and Roy were married for eighteen years, a full seven years short of that silver anniversary Mr. Croghan alluded to earlier, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You said you started waitressing twenty-two years ago, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So you began working right after you married?”
“Yes.”
“You went to work even though you were pregnant and only sixteen?”
“I had to. My father could only give us a little money to get started with.”
“Wasn’t Roy working?”
“Roy had...difficulty finding work.”
“Difficulty,” Kay repeated. “Mrs. Nye, in the eighteen years that you and Roy were married, what jobs did Roy hold?”
“I...don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Are you saying he never held a job?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mrs. Nye, would it be true to say that you know of no job that Roy might have held during those eighteen years because he was seldom living with you?”
“He...left a lot. And he didn’t always come back right away.”
“Right away? Isn’t it true that Roy often only spent a few weeks with you before he would take off for one, two, even three years at a stretch?”
“Y-yes.”
“And when he did return, isn’t it also true he did not contribute to the support of either you or your two children, but, rather, you supported him on the money you made waitressing?”
“I...”
Kay still spoke softly, gently. “Mrs. Nye, please tell us if that is true.”
“Yes.”
“These Saturday afternoons in the park and the Sunday mornings in church that you described earlier, did Roy ever attend any of those events with you and the children?”
“I...no.”
“Did Roy ever express any desire that his children be sent to religious school or taken to church or, in fact, did he ever show any interest in them at all?”
“No.”
“So you alone saw to the children’s needs and welfare?”
“Yes.”
“Did Roy get drunk often?”
Fedora’s fingers dug into her purse. “He liked his whiskey. And beer. He got...upset if I didn’t keep enough on hand.”
“He got upset,” Kay repeated. “Did he physically abuse you?”
“I... He used to get very...upset sometimes.”
“Upset,” Kay repeated before returning to the defense table to retrieve a file. “Your Honor, may I approach the witness?”
“Yes, Ms. Kellogg,” Ingle said.
Kay stepped up and handed Mrs. Nye a page from the file. Her voice was still soft, her manner gentle.
“Mrs. Nye, you have in your hand a police report on Roy dated twelve years ago. Would you read for the court what charge he was booked on?”
“Assault with a deadly weapon.”
“Whom did he assault?”
Her voice was tiny, barely audible. “Me.”
“There is a description of your injuries beneath the charge. Would you read them, please?”
“A fractured jaw, a fractured wrist, severe bruises and abrasions over shoulders, back and legs.”
A small murmur rippled through the courtroom. Kay waited until it died down.
“What was the instrument that Roy used on you to cause these injuries?”
“My son’s baseball bat.”
This time, the murmur that ran through the courtroom was louder and longer. Shoes shuffled. Benches squeaked. Damian knew that Kay had again paused to let the horrific images sink in.
The harshness of Kay’s next words were once more mitigated by their soft delivery. “Was this the only time that Roy became upset and inflicted such severe injuries on you, Mrs. Nye?”
“I...don’t remember.”
“Perhaps this will help to refresh your memory,” Kay said as she handed the witness another piece of paper from the file she held, still keeping her voice and manner gentle.
“This is a copy of an arrest report for Roy dated ten years ago. Please read the list of your injuries this time.”
“A concussion, a broken hip, severe bruises and contusions.”
“And how did you receive these injuries, Mrs. Nye?”
“Roy shoved me down the stairs.”
“Were you the one who called the police on these occasions?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Neighbors hearing the noise, I think. I’m not sure.”
“Are you not sure because you were knocked out from these beatings and woke up in the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Was Roy ever tried and convicted for these assaults on you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I...wouldn’t testify against him.”
“Why not?”
“A wife cannot dishonor her sacred vows to love, honor and obey her husband.”
“Do you think your adherence to those vows might have been the real reason that Roy never divorced you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, Mrs. Nye, that you were the perfect wife for Roy. You served and supported him on the rare occasions when he chose to come home to you. You endured his drunkenness and violent abuse. Why would he have wanted to divorce you?”
“I object! Argumentative!” Croghan bellowed.
“Sustained,” Ingle answered.
Kay stepped a little closer to Fedora, her voice as soft and gentle as always. “Mrs. Nye, you didn’t contest the divorce when Lee brought suit four years ago, did you?”
“No.”
“Were you glad Roy was gone?”
Her head rose, her face clear and childlike. “How could you think such a thing? That would be a sin against God.”
Damian had heard these kinds of statements before from battered women. That didn’t make Fedora’s statements any easier to listen to.
“You testified this morning that you received no financial support as a result of that divorce. Isn’t it true that you didn’t receive anything because Lee didn’t have anything?”
“He was only a mail clerk at some marketing firm making minimum wage.”
“So the fact that Lee said that he didn’t consider himself to be your husband or the father of your children had nothing to do with the judge’s decision not to award spousal and child support, did it?”
“No.”
“You didn’t get anything because there wasn’t anything to get, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes.”
“But Lee’s financial status has changed significantly during the last four years, hasn’t it, Mrs. Nye?”
“I...believe so.”
“You believe so? Mrs. Nye, isn’t it true that last year you filed suit to reopen your divorce settlement?”
“I...yes.”
“And in that suit, didn’t you state that evidence uncovered by a private investigator showed Lee to now be worth in excess of five million dollars and that you were claiming half his current assets plus half his future earnings in alimony?”
“Your Honor, I object!” Croghan shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Neither that suit nor any other suit has a bearing on this case!”
“Nice try, Mr. Croghan,” Ingle said with a smile. “Overruled. Answer the question, Mrs. Nye.”
“Mr. Croghan hired the private investigator,” Mrs. Nye said.
“Mr. Croghan?” Kay repeated. “Your attorney in this suit?”
“Yes.”
“So Mr. Croghan represented you in this reopening of your divorce settlement last year?”