Killed with a Passion
Page 19
I laughed at myself. Dan said, “But you learned the truth eventually. Why couldn’t you just tell the police or something?”
I nodded. “I could have. But I figured that because I was at least partially responsible for the mess she was in, I owed it to her to do it the way I did. Eve tried to talk me out of it.”
“Owed it to her? Matt, are you nuts? You’ve probably destroyed her.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But if I’d gone to Cooper with it, what would have happened? He might not have believed it—it’s not like I had any evidence or anything—and even if he had, he would have come at Brenda like an adversary. She would have been scared. She would have kept lying. You’d be convicted in the meantime, most likely, and by then, no one would believe you hadn’t done it no matter who confessed to anything.
“Besides, despite everything, she’s not a bad kid. I’d given her the idea of letting you take the rap; I had to try to make her see how lousy that idea was, how mean. I pretended to turn on you, made some pointed remarks about what a friend is supposed to do.
“It got to her. I had to help her a little, but she came through. I owed her a chance to do that.”
Dan came at me, his mouth like an open wound in the middle of his beard. “You goddam hypocrite!” he spat. “You sanctimonious bastard! You mean you can actually stand there and tell me you raked that kid over the coals to save her soul?”
“I did it, goddammit, to give her a chance, in a future that looks almighty bleak, to be able to live with herself! And incidentally,” I added, “to save your ungrateful ass!”
The chief came in. “Hey, let the other prisoners sleep, will you?” He shrugged, then said, “Mr. Morris, I’m sorry, there’s no way you can be released before morning. All the judges have their phones off the hook or something.”
Dan, still seething, said he didn’t really mind. “I’ll look around the place and memorize it. In the future, I can remind myself of where I almost spent the rest of my life.”
I got up. “Dan,” I began.
He smiled at me through his beard. “I know, I know, partner. I’m grateful, I really am. I need some time to let it sink in, that’s all.” The smile fell from his face. “Is anything going to happen to Grant?”
“It will if I can help it,” the chief said. “I’ll tell you one thing. He’s through with Whitten Communications. And I’ll nail that bastard on this corruption thing if it kills me. Any help Cobb wants to give me on the New York end of things will be appreciated.”
“You’ve got it,” I told him. I said good-bye to Dan. He saw I couldn’t shake hands, so he got up and gave me a hug. I started to mist up, and I really didn’t give a damn if Cooper saw tears in my eyes or not.
I was about through the door when Dan said, “Matt?”
“What is it, partner?”
“Life stinks sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I conceded. “But consider the alternative.”
CHAPTER 30
“Good-bye for now, and may Gawd bless.”
–Red Skelton, “The Red Skelton Hour” (CBS)
EVE WAS ANGRY SHE couldn’t get Dan out tonight, but happy her client had been vindicated. She kissed me quickly, then went in to speak to him about his release tomorrow.
When she came back down, I said, “Rendering your bill, huh?”
“I always wait a week before I do that. I’ve got to make a phone call when we get home—back to Dan’s place, I mean.”
“To the judge?”
“No, that’s hopeless. I’m supposed to call Mr. Whitten for Dan and tell him no hard feelings, and if there’s anything he can do for Brenda, all he has to do is ask.”
That was my second big laugh of the night. That schmuck, that softhearted, softheaded, impossible schmuck. God bless him, I thought.
Because if anyone owed Brenda anything, I was the one. All the time Cobb, the Grand Inquisitor, was pulling the admission from her, Brenda never threw my own guilt at me, never made me acknowledge that I had been the one to give her the idea that my best friend could have been the murderer. I thought about it all during the time we spent getting Spot from Shirley and arranging for me to ride with her back to New York tomorrow.
“You’re going home,” Eve said.
“Yes, but I’ll be back.”
“Of course,” she said. “You’ll be the star witness at Brenda Whitten’s trial.” By this time, she knew all the details of what had gone on.
“If Brenda Whitten ever stands trial for anything, I will eat a gavel. With mayonnaise. Between her father’s juice, her pretty self, and that genuinely horrible story she has to tell, she’ll be able to cop to a manslaughter beef and get a suspended sentence. If she doesn’t walk for temporary insanity. You’re the lawyer around here, what do you think?”
“I think you’re right,” Eve said. “I don’t know how I feel about that.” I knew how I felt about it. Even if jail was no part of her future, I wouldn’t want to trade places with Brenda Whitten for all her father’s millions.
I smiled at Eve. “You’re not supposed to feel about it. You’re a lawyer. But trial or no trial, I’m coming back anyway. Resolved: Relationships with smart, tough, brave, freckled women who care for a man should be pursued, even if they do have careers that will keep them four hundred miles away from said man most of the time. You take the negative.”
“Not on your life,” she said. She pulled the car over, set the emergency brake, took me in her arms, and kissed me.
It was wonderful, and it came just when I needed it. I tried to lose myself in Eve’s embrace, and forget about a little girl who’d clung to me that night, looking for comfort I couldn’t give her.
For a second I almost did forget, but I never would. Not completely. To save a friend, I’d set off Truth like a bomb, and the shrapnel had wounded everybody in sight, in one way or another. Even Dan. Even me. I wondered where Justice fit into all of this.
But I could drive myself crazy that way.
So I’d spend one more night with this wonderful woman at my side. Tomorrow, I’d meet my friend outside the jail and see him a free man before I had to go. I’d take him to the House of Hans for a lunch we could pay for. Then I’d kiss Eve good-bye, shake Dan’s hand if I could manage it. If they’d let me, I’d say good-bye to a poor little girl who’d gotten angry at her sister, and tell her—God knows what. I’d tell her something. Then I’d get into the car with Spot and Shirley, and ride back to New York. Back to the Network. Back to the problems of people I didn’t care much about—they were always easier to deal with. Back to the familiar places, the familiar people.
Back, in short, to what passes in my life for normal.
But with a difference. Now there was a little portion of my mind that would stay in Sewanka. In the custody of a red-haired lady lawyer. With freckles.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1983 by William L. DeAndrea
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4532-9033-0
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