LifeoftheParty

by Trudy Doyle

  Which normally he’d think would be a good thing. But on that morning the only thing in his head as he snaked around the avid supporters, chanting protesters carrying signs, the loyal opposition and the random nutcase was finding Ted Parks and strangling his scrawny neck.

  The podium at the top of the steps was vacant, the high muckity-mucks still assembling behind the big glass doors. Ted was no doubt somewhere inside, and Doug sincerely hoped Falco was keeping him out of the way for the moment. Just below, the local high school band played, squeaking out the occasional flat note. The police had the perimeter, squad cars lining the curb and uniforms milling about, and Doug headed for them.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he asked an officer leaning against his cruiser.

  The man eyed him. “Why? Someone steal your sign?”

  Doug flashed his shield. “Cut the comedy, I’m not a fan. Now who?”

  The officer sniffed, thumb jutting over his shoulder. “Captain MacDuff. In the brown overcoat.”

  Doug found him near the juror entrance talking to some more officers.

  “Make it quick,” MacDuff said, looking tired and impatient. “I’m about ten quarts low on caffeine.” He eyed Doug’s shield for a moment before dismissing the officers. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, Lieutenant. This better be good.”

  “It isn’t, and that’s the problem.” Doug gave him the thirty-second lowdown. “You can check with Halchak if you want.”

  “You realize you’re talking about the district attorney.” MacDuff pulled out his phone. “Don’t think I won’t.”

  “If you want proof, don’t use that phone—use mine.” He held up Gina’s BlackBerry. “Everything you need is right inside here.”

  * * * * *

  HENRY STREET—CITY OF CAMDEN

  11:52 A.M.

  Gina rubbed her wrist. The damn thing was chafed as hell. Doug had handcuffed her three bars in, so the only way she could get a good two-handed grip on the iron headboard was to stand with her back to the bed and yank it in inches, alternately pulling and pushing it away from the wall, literally having to turn it around. It was slow, methodical work, getting to the key on the other side of the room, especially with her bare legs banging against the frame. The bed made a scraping sound against the wooden floor as she worked but apparently Doug had thought of that too. It being Sunday morning, the whole house was at church, and Gina was effectively on her own.

  “Bas-tard,” she grunted, yanking again, yet inwardly, she exalted. Two and a half years was a long time to carry around such guilt, and to have it lifted now, her psyche felt as naked inside as she currently was outside. Because he loves me. She closed her eyes and yanked, the bed turned almost three quarters, the key a little more than a couple yards away. And I love him. Best feeling in the world. Yank.

  She glanced around the room, catching little pieces of personality in the things scattered about. Police thrillers on his bookshelves—Lisa Scottoline, Pamela Flynn. James Lee Burke. A book of poetry by Robert Burns. Biographies of Abraham Lincoln and FDR. Pudd’nhead Wilson, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs. Two Bill Brysons. Push.

  What looked like original photography was on the walls—beach scenes, the RCA Victor building near the river, an old family photo. A three-gauge brass weather station, temperature, humidity, barometer. On the small table, a blue wristband, a pack of Dentyne, loose change, the remote, a laptop. Two beer caps. Yank.

  She was almost there, and even though she was naked, she wasn’t cold. Sweating, in fact. Sweating and still flushed from their lovemaking, covered in passion bites and deliciously sore, no matter what she told him. She felt well-fucked and still aching for it. And to get at Ted Parks. Oh yessiree. She gave the bed one more push. Not even Doug’s going to rob me of that. She stretched, straining toward the key.

  * * * * *

  COUNTY COURTHOUSE

  12:14 P.M.

  The point of Lee Roland’s finger met the resolve of Doug Welland’s chest. “No scene,” Lee said. “And I mean it. I want this done as unobtrusively as possible. We do not need bad press this early in the game.”

  “I get you, Roland,” Doug said, glancing down. Lee’s finger quickly withdrew. “But neither do I want that fuck slipping away.”

  Lee tossed his gaze up the courthouse steps, past a union representative spouting his spiel to the crowd, to the opaque glass doors. “He’s not going anywhere. MacDuff’s got cops at every exit and Parks has every expectation of joining the Congressman at the podium. All I’m asking is to wait until Falco goes out there.”

  “I can’t wait that long,” Doug said, his hand fisting.

  “Well, you’re going to have to,” Lee said, turning away. “A half hour, tops.”

  The crowd gave a round of polite applause. Another one down, Doug thought, another one on his way up. He glanced at his watch and smiled, sincerely hoping Gina didn’t have to piss. Her phone rang.

  “Doug.” It was Falco. “How’s it looking?”

  “Where is he?”

  “I have him in my sights right now. Don’t worry.”

  His hand fisted again. “Oh believe me, I’m not.”

  * * * * *

  HENRY STREET

  12:21 P.M.

  Gina shoved the cuffs into the pocket of her skirt, figuring they might come in handy. She yanked Doug’s shirt on over her bra and belted it, slipping into one of his jackets, rolling the sleeves and straightening the collar. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, a stab of loneliness shooting through her. She tossed her head, glimpsing herself in the mirror. With her tangled hair long and loose, her feet in her highest shoes—four-inch faux alligator man-killers—she looked like an urban Amazon, especially when she slid on some Jungle Red lipstick. She tossed the tube into her purse. It clinked against the clasp of her wallet. Somewhere inside it was a single sheet of paper folded four times, tucked into one of those pockets rarely used, like the one that held Social Security or voter registration cards.

  She never looked at it except to tamp it back in from time to time when a corner eased out. She carried it like an old scar in some private place, healed over but still aware of it. Gina eased open the wallet, thumbing back the pocket to take a glimpse. Of course it was there. The things you never wanted to carry in the first place usually were. But now it meant something altogether different. And that difference, for the first time, gave her courage. Down below a door slammed, and Miss Ella’s voice floated through the house. Gina slung her purse over her shoulder and ran toward it.

  Gina caught her just before she disappeared into her apartment. “Miss Ella?”

  The woman turned, her brow arched. “Well, look who’s here. Where’s Douglas?”

  “He left without me, and that’s part of my problem. Miss Ella, Doug told me that’s your grandson’s car out front.”

  The older woman glanced toward the old green Monte Carlo on the curb. “He’s in the army. Korea, right now. Why?”

  “I need to borrow it for a couple of hours. My rental is back at the hotel, and I really need to get up to Riverboro.” She dug into her purse, bringing out a wad of bills. “I can give you a hundred dollars if you let me use it.”

  “You crazy, girl?” She shoved the wad back. “I’m not gonna take your money.” She eyed her warily. “Why did Douglas leave you here in the first place?”

  Gina sighed. “Miss Ella, have you ever had a man keep you from doing something, saying it was for your own good? Like you’re a little child, and he can’t figure out how you possibly could’ve made it to the age you are without him around, watching your every step?”

  “He doing that to you? Well, he must’ve had a reason.”

  “Sure he does. He wants to wrap me in a little box and keep all the bad away from me. Well, I’ve seen a lot of bad and a lot of bad’s seen me, and there really isn’t too much that surprises me anymore. Except that maybe Doug thinks there is.”

  She came closer. “Miss Ella, I h
ave to get up to Riverboro. There’s something up there I have to finish for myself. And although Doug means well, he can’t do it for me. If he does it’ll never be over, and I can’t live like this anymore.”

  “He’s a good man, you know. A good man who been troubled a long time now. You the cause of that?”

  “Yes, I’m ashamed to say. But this is my one chance to make amends. I love him, more than anything in the world. But I have to do this myself if it’s ever going to be right between us.”

  Miss Ella considered it a moment, her lips pursed, before finally turning into her apartment. “Come on then.”

  Gina followed her into a bright, cheery space, photos lining the walls. Miss Ella reached into a dish at a small secretary, pulling out a set of keys. “I want you to know I’m not doing this for you but for Douglas. That man been in pain too long. But I can see he’s in love. It’s plain on his face when he looks at you. And no one should ever be alone.”

  As Gina pocketed the keys, she asked, “Are you alone, Miss Ella?”

  The older woman snorted dismissively. “I’ve outlived three husbands and two more are lined up wanting the job. I’ve got four kids, two of them down the hall, and a pack of grandkids, all of whom are gonna be here in two hours wanting my home cooking and anything else they can get out of me. Missy, I am the most un-alone woman on the face of the earth. If it wasn’t for the lock on this door, I’d never get any peace.”

  Gina laughed. “Well, thank you, Miss Ella. I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Just one more thing.” The old woman looked to a framed picture of the president, her eyes softening. “Have you ever met him?”

  Gina came up to her. “Yes, once. At a state dinner last spring.”

  She smiled wistfully. “Is he as handsome as they say?”

  “Yes. And very charming.”

  “Was she there too?”

  “Yes. She’s very elegant.”

  “Well, then.” Miss Ella took her hand. “If those two people could tackle the biggest problems in the world and still be as much in love as they look to be, then there’s hope for you two yet.” She gave it a squeeze. “Good luck, honey.”

  “Thank you,” Gina said. Because surely she’d need it.

  * * * * *

  COUNTY COURTHOUSE

  1:22 P.M.

  “Just give me two minutes alone with him,” Doug said. “Then I don’t give a damn what you do.”

  “Don’t push it, Welland,” MacDuff said. “You’re already too close to the case.”

  “Two minutes, then send him to Guantanamo for all I give a shit.” Doug disappeared through the doorway.

  All the major players were already on the dais, the governor just introducing Jack Falco, formally throwing him his support and opening up Jack’s campaign. After a short speech, Jack would name his successor. Doug slipped up the back staircase and into the courthouse lobby where Parks waited in a side office, fully expecting to be called out by Falco and named his successor. Doug inched to the doorway, glimpsing Parks gazing out a window to the dais.

  “Yo, Parks.”

  Ted spun around. “Jesus, Lieutenant! You startled me. Where’s Gina?”

  Doug leaned against the jamb. “She couldn’t make it.”

  Ted shook his head slightly. “What do you mean? She was supposed to be here hours ago. Who’s going to talk to the press after Falco announces?”

  “Jack’s a big boy. I’m sure he can talk for himself. The bigger question is who’s going to talk for you?”

  Parks eyed him coolly. “I’m doing it myself. I already have a press kit made up.”

  “Really. I bet that’s a hell of a read. What’s it include?”

  “Standard stuff. My accomplishments and family. About when I was mayor, district attorney, my interests like running, duck decoys, sculling—”

  “You mean stalking?” Doug pushed himself from the doorway. “Or how about aggravated assault?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Ted asked, taking a step back.

  “I’m talking about making terroristic threats, breaking and entering.” Doug grabbed his lapel. “About using something as innocuous as a phone and a computer to drive someone half out of their mind.”

  “You’re half out of your mind!” Parks said, pushing him off. He looked to the hall. “Where’s security? Where the hell’s SECURITY?”

  Doug shoved him against the desk. “No one can hear you, you little fuck. When I’m done with you I’m gonna get you for everything short of murder and—”

  “Rape. Let’s not forget that.”

  They both looked to the doorway. “Gina,” Doug breathed, alternately angry and amazed.

  Ted straightened. “Gina! Jesus, what the hell’s going on here?”

  “Why’d you do it, Ted?” she asked, sauntering in. “Why’d you send me all those nasty little messages? What were you trying to prove?”

  “Messages!” He looked from Gina to Doug and back. “Are you both insane?”

  Doug pushed him again. “I know I am. Ask anyone. Now, should Gina repeat the question?” He grabbed his tie. “Or should I rephrase it for you?”

  Ted shrugged him off, scrambling past him. “You can call me anything you want, but I’ll tell you what she is. A murderer.” His gaze shot to Gina, his eyes wild. “You’re down in Washington pushing for DNA verification for criminals. For murderers? When you’re a murderer yourself? You killed our baby. Didn’t you think I’d find out?”

  “Our baby?” Gina cried, livid. “You bastard! You raped me!”

  He laughed. “Gina, everyone knows you can’t rape a whore.”

  Doug lunged at him, slamming him against the wall, his arm against his throat. “You piece of shit! I’ll fucking kill you!”

  “Get…him…away…from—” he struggled out. “It was your…decision. No…one made you do…anything.”

  “Oh no?” She unfolded a piece of paper, shoving it into his face. “You know what this is? This is the violations report of one Lucas Mumsford, one that would have sent him to jail for five years.”

  His eyes flared. “I destroyed those files! Where—?”

  “Out of the folder at the scene of the crime. Not like you noticed because rapists rarely notice anything when they’re otherwise engaged. Took me until today to realize if I turn it in, Mumsford risks going to jail. If you do, it’d prove you were suppressing evidence. Double checkmate, Ted. You can’t hold anything over me again.”

  Applause went up outside. Ted flinched toward it.

  “Oh don’t worry about that. They’re just introducing Jerry Szabo as the new candidate for Congress. Looks like the bus to Washington is leaving without you.”

  Ted went wild, struggling within Doug’s grasp. “Fucking bitch. Liar! I’ll get you—”

  Doug’s fist clenched, ready to launch, but Gina grabbed his wrist. “No, darling, this pleasure’s all mine.” She hauled back and lunged, hooking Ted with a solid left. He slumped to the floor.

  “Gina!” Doug cried. “I never knew you were a leftie.”

  “Ambidextrous,” she said, shaking her hand. “Ow.”

  Two uniforms shoved into the room, MacDuff, right behind them. “Welland!” he cried, eyeing Parks. “What’d I tell you? You bucking for a brutality charge?”

  He threw up his hands. “Don’t look at me. We got us a Million Dollar Baby here.”

  “Hi,” Gina said, hand flexing, the uniforms hauling out a dazed Ted Parks.

  MacDuff snorted. “Gina Bardone, right? I’ve seen that name before.”

  “Yeah, well, my days as the savior of lost causes is long over. I never want to see a courtroom again.”

  He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Are you related to someone name of Erika Bardone?”

  She did a double take. “She was my aunt.”

  “And a court reporter, right?”

  “For over forty years.”

  “Go to Courtroom Four and look on the right side of the bench. It
’s—”

  “One floor up, I know. Why?”

  “Just go and find out.” He looked to Doug. “But before you do…” He waggled his fingers. “The phone, please.”

  Doug pulled the BlackBerry from his pocket. “Sorry, doll. They need it for evidence.”

  “My phone? How will I ever…?” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I suppose I’ll just have to manage.”

  “Come on,” Doug said, nodding toward the door. “Take me upstairs.”

  He trailed her out into the corridor and up the staircase, their footsteps echoing through the empty building. Gina skulked through it all with a church-like reverence approaching awe when she yanked open the big carved door to Courtroom Four. It was a wide, classical courtroom, with Ionic columns in the corners and murals on the walls, huge leaded and arched windows on either side of the tall oaken bench, streaming rays of afternoon sun. She slowly walked up the aisle, head craning around, ending up at the left side of the bench. She bent into it.

  “Oh my God,” she said softly.

  Doug joined her. On the side of the bench was a small brass plaque.

  Dedicated To Erika L. Bardone, Court Reporter. Forty Years Of Service.

  “I never—knew,” Gina said, her voice cracking. She turned around, sweeping her gaze over the courtroom. “I can’t tell you how much time I spent here. And you know, Doug? I miss it.”

  “Then come back,” he said. “And while you’re at it…” He took her into his arms. “Come back to me too.”

  “Oh Doug.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I never really left.”

  “Neither did I.” He kissed her, tangling his fingers in her hair. She sighed against him and he deepened his kiss, pulling her against him.

  He nuzzled her neck. “You seem…taller.”

  “There’s something to be said for four-inch heels.”

  “My wild woman,” he said, growling in her ear. “You were magnificent back there.” He slid his hands inside her jacket. “And you look totally smokin’ in my clothes. Though I can’t help thinking how much better you look out of them.” He slid his hand down the slope of her behind, trailing it under her skirt to suddenly stop. “Hm, it looks like we’re back to not wearing underwear.”