by April Cronin
Peter looked at Erin and nodded.
“My client and I went over this before you got here, he said he gave a couple of girls...I mean, a couple of fans, an autograph, and a picture, and then he headed home. I believe you've already questioned him regarding his movements after the bar, if I'm correct?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Allen said all cordial like, “there was one more question though about that.”
Peter looked to Erin, waiting for the cop to spit it out.
“Why did you take a shower when you got home son?”
What? Peter thought, running through his and Viktor's earlier conversation with the police. When had he mentioned a shower? He hadn't, that must mean... Harmony... they'd spoken to Harmony. Great, just great. What had they said to her? Peter was getting mad then, the tension in him coiling tightly, but he forced himself not to explode.
“My dog. I let my dog out and then back in when I get home. She jumped on me, and covered me in dirt. Is not that reason enough to shower?” he said between clenched teeth. Glaring from one detective to the other.
Allen seemed to flush a little, perhaps embarrassed by the situation, and then reaching into his pocket he pulled out the photograph again, the one he had shown him earlier. It was of a small girl and her slightly plump friend smiling together in a selfie. “Are these the girls?” He asked, handing the photo to him.
Peter looked it over, the girl's image coming back to him now that he had really given it some thought. “Da, yes, that is them,” he said, hiding his dispassion.
“But you didn't recognize them earlier?” Simms said sarcastically, speaking for the first time.
Viktor leapt forward then from his perch in the seat across the room, snatching the photo out of Peter's hand, “let me see this.” he growled, then suddenly laughed.
“What's so funny?” Detective Simms asked, reaching for the picture and looking rather pissed off as well.
Viktor merely laughed again, then allowing her to take the picture, dropped his angry voice to a brooding whisper, though with his vocal capacity, it came out just a few octaves shy of shouting. “If this is girl, you have no case.”
Everyone turned to face him then, waiting for an explanation. Viktor sank back into his chair, shrugging, his face contorted into a self-satisfied grin. “Peter, do you not remember the other night? The three of us? You, me, and Andre? This is the same girl that went home with him.”
Peter shook his head, the memory of that night resurfacing, he could place her, but just barely. No sooner than she and her friend had come over, had he left. “Da, I remember. You are sure is same girl?”
“Oh, is same girl. I never forget a face. Besides, I thought the little plump one was cute. It was too bad she left.”
Simms shot him a disgusted look, then peered down at the picture in her hand, as though contemplating this newest information. Trying to decipher whether or not she believed it.
Allen cleared his throat again, drawing the attention back to him, “Andre, that would be Andre Lepowski?”
“Da. That is him.” Peter replied.
“We'll uh, we'll talk to him as soon as we finish up here,” He pinned Erin with his eyes, the next part of his statement obviously meant for her “I assume he won't need a lawyer too?”
Erin smiled, straightening her shoulders ever so slightly, “I can't imagine why he would. Will there be anything else... detective?” She asked sweetly, pleased by the recent turn of events.
“I think that's about all the questions we have for now. I suppose we ought to get in touch with you first if we have any more?”
Erin nodded, handing him her card.
Allen turned to leave, then as though he had just remembered something, he looked back at Peter, “would you mind giving a DNA sample son?” He asked, trying to play the remark off as an afterthought.
Though no one, including Peter, was fool enough to buy that.
“Is no problem.” Peter said, holding up a hand to cut his lawyer off, “I am innocent, you will see this.”
Detective Allen sent Erin a slight grin, elated by the fact that her client was so easily going against her advice, as surely she had forbid him of such things, just in case. Then shooting a glance at his partner, he nodded to her and said, “Simms, will you tell the crime scene technician to go ahead and get that sample for us.” He put a hand on Peter's shoulder, “thank your son, the sooner we get this all cleared up, the better off you'll be.”
Simms left the room briefly, a small Asian man with thick rimmed glasses, carrying a case that looked more like a tackle box, trailing behind her when she came back. Peter opened his mouth, allowing the technician to take his swab, and then moved to the water cooler for a drink. He wanted to wash the taste of cotton out of his mouth. The man and both detectives filed out of the office, Allen giving the room a small salute before closing the door behind him.
God, Peter just wanted this nightmare to be over.
“Shit,” Darla said, the moment they reached the cruiser and got inside.
“What's a matter Darla? Case not going how you hoped it would?” Allen needled her, laughing under his breath.
“Fuck you Allen.”
“Temper, temper.” He teased, wagging a finger in her face as he maneuvered the car onto the road and in the direction of their next witness.
“I still think he's guilty.”
“Really?” He sounded almost shocked, it got on her nerves that much more.
“The friend's obviously covering for him, you watch, this next friend will be too. How much do you want to bet Petrovic and that giant have already called him? I'm telling you Allen, he tried to rape that girl.”
“I'm not saying you're wrong...”
“But?” she asked piteously.
“The facts just don't seem to support the claim.”
“The facts?” she laughed angrily. “What the hell do you mean the facts don't seem to support the claim? We have pictures of that ass hole with his arms around her! We have a witness, A WITNESS! That saw him run away...”
“No,” he argued, cutting her off mid-rant, “we have a nervous young lady who says she saw a man, who probably had blonde hair, running away. I have my doubts as to her credibility.”
“Oh? And why is that? Please oh mighty Allen, shed on me your wisdom.”
He snorted, turning down one road and then another, “She says she left her friend in the company of Mr. Petrovic and then went back inside to the bathroom. She came out, heard the screams, assumed they were her friend's and ran around the building to investigate.”
“Your point?”
“When you were that age Darla...Okay, never mind, that's not an apt comparison. Let's try this another way. How many girls that age, that have Ms. Thompson's body type, do you think would willingly go out into the streets at night, to investigate another woman's screams?”
She had to think about it for a minute. Then shook her head, “okay, so maybe the friend is lying, that doesn't mean Orsini is.”
“Doesn't it though? It stands to reason that if one is lying then they both are. Or is that not intuition 101?”
“Maybe she just doesn't think her testimony alone would be enough, ever think of that?” She raved, going off on a tangent. “And that Lawyer! Damn it all to hell! Of course he'd hire a woman! Oooh, and I'm sure she'll sell him, good looks and all to any jury. Bat her eyelashes and say 'Why would a man like him have to rape a woman?' It just pisses me off I tell ya!”
“Why are you so hell bent on this kid being guilty?” Allen asked pointedly, pulling up into the driveway of Andre Lepowski.
“Because I'm sick of all these rich athletes getting away with this shit! And who's to say he didn't do it? You saw how he acted in there. That scared and bashful crap is just a bluff, I could practically feel the rage! And the big one! My god! Russian's are such fucking brutes!” She rambled on, her own discrimination coming through in waves.
Allen laughed at her, “a little prejudice are we?
” he joked. “Come along Darla, let's see what Lepowski has to say.” He got out and had a smoke, letting her stew a little longer.
Chapter 8
Can you Trust me?
It was hours before Peter and Viktor finally left the lawyers office. And though he felt a little better after Viktor had pointed out the fact that this was, in fact, the same girl that had slept with Andre, it still didn't make it all go away. And there was Harmony to deal with. What would he say to her? How could he explain this?
Well, he was about to find out.
Pulling into the alley behind the house, she sat on the hood of his car, her car parked behind it. She looked up from her phone as they approached, smiled, kind of sad like, and stood. Peter got out and went to her, telling Viktor he'd close the garage door. Viktor nodded, and headed inside, letting the dogs out so Peter would have one less thing to worry about.
“Peter.” Harmony said, standing just out of reach.
She looked him over, took in his rumpled suit, his hair, mussed up, as if he'd combed his fingers through it more than once, and then gazed deep into his eyes. They were like ice, devoid of most of their color. There was such pain in them, she couldn't help herself, she reached out for him, took him into her arms, and held him tight.
Peter melted into her embrace, his head resting on top of hers, he wanted to cry. But men didn't do that. He had to be strong. He didn't know how much she knew, or how much he should tell her, but right now, he knew he needed this, he needed her. God, she smelled like heaven.
Harmony slowly pulled away after a few more minutes, looking him over once more, the color had come back into his eyes a little, his cheeks heated as well. Was he embarrassed?
“Peter,” she said again, trying to find the right words. “The police came by my work today. They were asking questions. About you.”
He swallowed visibly.
“Did something happen last night Peter? Is something wrong?”
“I can not tell you everything, I have been advised to stay quiet and let the law do as they will.” His voice came out a whisper, he wanted to tell her, he hoped he could trust her. But how could he be so sure? What if she didn't believe him?
“Tell me what Peter? What's going on?”
He could see the hurt, and the confusion in her eyes, and damn it, he didn't want to do this to her! Hadn't he promised he wouldn't?
“Harmony, I made promise not to hurt you, and I will do best to keep it. I can not tell you now, but can you just say you trust me?” He asked, gently reaching out a hand and stroking the side of her face.
Harmony leaned into his touch, there was such tenderness there. She had no idea what Peter was facing, but as of right now, if he asked her to trust him, then she would. “Okay, I trust you.”
“Thank you. Would you like to come in?”
She wanted to, she was about to say yes even, but the knowledge that something was hanging between them, something Peter either couldn't or wouldn't talk about, was bearing down on her just now. She needed to let it sink in for a minute, give her brain enough time to catch up, there was so much going on as of now. What with the future of her father's store, and now this, whatever it was, that Peter was facing.
Besides, she still needed to drop by the lawyer’s office here in town and have him go over the contract she had been extended, and have a little chat about it with her father as well. Maybe she could persuade him to have dinner with her here in the city, keep things on mutual ground.
“I have things I need to get done..” she began, stopping as Peter dropped his hand from her face, taking a step back and looking as though she had burned him with her remark. And so a thought occurred to her... “Why don't you have dinner with me tonight Peter? I'm meeting my father later to go over some paperwork, but we can just have drinks, and then maybe the three of us can go and have dinner?” Peter's lips twitched slightly, she could tell he liked her offer, but he wasn't sold, so she rushed on before he could object. “I'm sure you could use a distraction about now... Let me distract you tonight Peter.”
And she had a buyer.
Peter's soft shy smile returned, her heart melting at the sight of it. “Da, this sounds like good idea. May I ask where and what time?”
She thought about it for a second, and decided maybe getting out of town would be the best route. “How about Marlin Monroe's? That's out on Tybee Island, it's such a nice area. Say 7?”
“Da, I know Marlin's, Dean lives out there. 7 is good. I see you then.” Peter leaned down, brushed a kiss on her forehead, and after another brief smile, he turned and walked into the open garage, the door slowly closing behind him.
Harmony wondered if she was making a fool’s decision.
After taking the elevator to the third floor of the complex, Detectives Allen and Simms found themselves in front of Andre Lepowski's door, and knocking loudly they waited for an answer. Allen was calm, his face a mask of serenity, while Simms was agitated. It seemed that aside from the rape kit itself, this entire investigation may very well hinge on the testimony of Mr. Lepowski.
Andre answered a few minutes later, clad in sweats and a loose t-shirt, his hair was a mop of brown, disheveled as though he had just gotten out of bed. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning in the doorjamb.
Allen introduced himself and then Darla, though he only referred to her by her first name when they were alone, everyone in the station did. That or they called her rascal, after her namesake. It seemed to grate on her nerves, which made everyone enjoy it that much more. He was professional about it though now, referring to her as Detective Simms.
“May we come in Mr. Lepowski, we have a few questions we'd like to ask.”
Andre shrugged and moved inside, allowing them room to pass. “Sure, just let me get rid of my guest first. You can wait in the living room.”
The detectives followed his suggestion, checking the place out as they made their way to the living area, “swanky place.” Darla whispered. Allen nodded, swanky place indeed.
Andre disappeared into a door down the hall, and they could hear voices, too low to be discernible, and they certainly couldn't hear the conversation. But a couple of minutes later, Andre returned, an attractive brunette behind him. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, said he'd give her a call, though Allen doubted that, and ushered her out the door, closing it behind her.
“So what can I help you officers with today?” he asked, walking into the living area and leaning a hip against a lazy boy recliner.
“Have you spoken to Peter Petrovic or Viktor Bortnik today?” Simms asked, nearly butchering Viktor's last name.
Andre considered her for a moment, she sure was a pretty little thing. Feisty too, if he hadn't misjudged that slight attitude in her voice. He shook his head, “I have not. As you could see, I've been a little... preoccupied…so far today. Why do ask?”
Allen cleared his throat, which he seemed to do far too often for Darla's comfort, he was always cutting her off, like she didn't know how to do her damn job. “Mr. Lepowski..”
“Andre, please. Mr. Lepowski is my father.” He shot a crooked grin in the lady cops direction. Darla snorted.
“Andre..” Allen began again, “could you tell us about last night?”
“What about it?”
“Just give us a general rundown of the events of last night, while you were at the bar with Mr. Petrovic.”
Andre narrowed his eyes, his expression shrewd. “Just what are you insinuating, detective?” he asked.
Darla was getting aggravated by that point, they were getting nowhere, and Andre was about to circle the wagons like the rest of them. “Just show him the damn picture Allen.” she hissed.
Startled, Allen cleared his throat again, murmured something unintelligible, and pulled the photo out of his pocket, handing it to Andre, who reached out and took it, sitting down in the chair to study it. “Do you recognize either of the ladies?” he asked.
Andre smiled, one of those, the cat ate the canary ty
pes of grins, and tapped on the image of Ms. Orsini. “Yeah, I know this one....we uh...” he trailed off, some thought or another catching up to him. Tossing the picture on the coffee table in front of him, he stood, arms crossed and scowled at them, one at a time. “What is this? What's she saying? I swear to god, anything that went on between us was completely consensual, and if she's saying otherwise...”
Allen held up a hand, Darla just sat back looking like she'd sucked a lemon, this was not going at all the way she hoped it would. “Now son, just calm down.”
“The fuck you say?” Andre nearly exploded, “I think I need to call my lawyer.”
“This isn't about you Andre, can you just hear us out?” Allen said, as Andre was already grabbing for the phone.
Darla didn't say a word, just shrugged her shoulders when Andre's gaze landed on her. She was pissed, this case was deteriorating right before her eyes.
“Well?” Andre finally said, laying his cell phone on the table next to the discarded photo.
“Can you tell me when you and uh....the lady first met?”
“I thought you said this wasn't about me?” He reached for his phone again. Darla cut him to the quick, snatching it away from him and drawing an indignant glare.
“Just answer the damn question,” she snapped.
“Fine,” Andre barked, sitting down again and leaning back in his chair. He tented his hands in front of him, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. “Sometime last week, Tuesday I think.”
“Where?” Allen pipped in, pulling out his notebook and writing it all down. “And can you explain the encounter in detail? You can uh....leave out the uh....well, you know,” he said, his cheeks flushing.
“Yeah, yeah okay. I was at the bar; you know, the one on Perry Street. It was me and a couple of my teammates, Viktor and Peter. These two girls come up to us, and I figured she was cute, her name was… I dunno, Amanda or Amber, I don't remember.” Darla shot him a disgusted look, though if he noticed it, he didn't show it. “Anyways, Peter left, and her little friend decided to go home too, so it was just me and her, Viktor excused himself about that time as well. So we came back to my place....and we uh... well, you know. And then she left.”