Business had been brisk for a mid-week day, the shop often filled to overflowing. Bethany had quickly become aware of the fact that more than one customer had stopped by the boutique to get a good look at the woman accused of Jimmy Farraday's murder. Ignoring the rude stares and unpleasant whispers, she'd concentrated on her loyal, supportive clientele.
When Morgan and she arrived at Kane, Walker and Carson, Attorneys-at-Law, Maxine's secretary showed them into her office immediately.
Maxine shook hands with Bethany, then turned to Morgan. "Good to see you again. How long has it been, fifteen or sixteen years? You've grown into quite a man. Your father would be proud of you."
Why the hell, after all these years, did his father's opinion matter? He'd quit trying to please the old man when he was about fifteen. He'd realized then that no matter what he accomplished, it would never be enough to suit his father. Henderson Kane had expected nothing less from his only son than perfection and complete acquiescence to his wishes. So instead of striving to gain his father's acceptance and approval, he'd done everything and anything to achieve the exact opposite. Smoking. Drinking. Dating little tramps from the wrong side of town. Getting himself expelled from school. And eventually getting himself arrested for attacking a policeman after he'd been stopped for reckless driving. What Morgan had gained over the years of rebellious behavior had been his father's rage and contempt.
"My father was proud of his nephew, Amery, and his protégée, you." Morgan assisted Bethany into a chair in front of the massive mahogany desk that had once belonged to Henderson Kane. "Let's cut to the chase, Max. We don't need to waste a lot of your time, or mine and Bethany's time, either."
"Not as charming as you used to be, are you?" Maxine's lips curved into a mocking smile. She nodded toward the chair beside Bethany's. "Have a seat and let's get started. What do you need from me?"
"Other than the obvious—for you to give Bethany the best legal representation you can—not a great deal," Morgan said. "Since we spoke earlier today and I got most of the information I needed from you then, what I'd like for us to do now is compile a list of possible suspects. As soon as we have a list, I can get to work on narrowing down the possibilities. I've already talked to Hal Varner, the detective in charge of the Farraday murder case. Are you aware that he has some doubts about Bethany's guilt?"
"Yes, of course," Maxine said. "Hal has done everything he can to keep the investigation going, but the district attorney has blocked him at every turn."
"I think we may have an ally in Varner." Morgan unbuttoned his jacket, sat down and crossed one leg over the other as he relaxed in the leather chair. "We can count on him to work with us. Unofficially, of course.
"And I spoke to Pat Griswold, the FBI agent assigned to investigate the mail bombing. They don't have any leads in the case. They're assuming a crazed Jimmy Farraday fan sent the bomb, since its construction was so simple that a twelve-year-old could have put it together. But after I spoke to Agent Griswold, she agreed to check into the possibility that, if Bethany didn't murder Farraday, the real killer might have sent the bomb."
"My, my, my. You have been a busy boy, haven't you?" Maxine braced her hip on the edge of her desk. "With Dane Carmichael's connections within the bureau, I'm sure you'll get all the cooperation you need from Agent Griswold."
"We're hoping that, since the FBI knows the package was mailed from the downtown post office, one of the employees might remember something suspicious. It's a long shot," Morgan said. "But it's all we've got right now."
"The person who made the bomb might not have been the person who mailed it." Maxine grunted. "Well, what do you need from me, Morgan?"
"What I need, before I proceed any further, are the names of everyone either of you think might have had a reason for wanting Jimmy Farraday dead." Morgan glanced from Maxine to Bethany. "Who's going to start this little accusation game?"
"I believe most people who really knew Jimmy either disliked him intensely or hated him," Maxine said. "I didn't know him well enough to hate him. Personally, I just despised him."
"Who knew him well enough to hate him?" Morgan asked. "His wife, his son, his stepdaughter, his step-granddaughter and…"
"You're including Anne Marie and James on your suspects list?" Bethany glared at Morgan. "And Mother?"
"I'm not saying that I think one of them killed Farraday, I'm—"
"Anne Marie wasn't even in town," Bethany said. "She'd been away at camp all week. She didn't get back to Birmingham until hours after Jimmy was murdered."
"That still leaves James and Eileen." Morgan could tell that this discussion was bothering Bethany more than it should. Did she know something she wasn't telling him? Something she hadn't even told her lawyer? "Do either Eileen or James have an alibi for the time Farraday was killed?"
"It just so happens," Maxine said, "that both of them were at the television station when Jimmy's body was found. Eileen was meeting him for dinner and James had stopped by to ask his father to pull some strings and get him a couple of Vince Gill concert tickets." Maxine slid off the edge of her desk and stared directly at Bethany. "If he's going to help us, then you're going to have to tell him everything."
Bethany folded her hands together in her lap. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes. "All right." Opening her eyes, she turned in her chair and faced Morgan. "I had lunch with Mother the day Jimmy was murdered. I'd never seen her so upset. She told me that he had disgraced her for the last time, that some young starlet Jimmy had let sing on his television show a few times came to her and told her that she was pregnant with Jimmy's baby. Mother said … she said she wanted to kill Jimmy. And at that precise moment, I believe she meant it."
"So you think Eileen killed her husband?" Morgan asked.
"I honestly don't know," Bethany admitted. "But I can't believe she would let me take the blame for something she did, unless…"
"Unless what?" Morgan uncrossed his legs and eased to the edge of his seat.
"Unless something snapped inside her and she simply doesn't remember shooting Jimmy," Maxine said. "I've seen that sort of thing happen before."
"What about this girl, the one who's supposedly pregnant with Farraday's baby?" Morgan asked.
"She has an airtight alibi," Maxine told him. "She was at an afternoon baby shower her friends gave her where she worked."
"OK, so we put Eileen at the top of our list. Then James Farraday, Jr. Who else?" Morgan dropped his folded hands between his spread knees. "What about co-workers at the television station?"
"Jimmy was so difficult to work with that there was usually a pretty big turnover on his show every so often," Bethany said. "The only permanent fixtures associated with Jimmy's Wake Up Birmingham were his secretary, Vivian Crosby, and his announcer and sidekick, Tony Hayes."
"Crosby and Hayes?" Lifting one hand, Morgan rubbed his chin. "Aren't they the eyewitnesses who not only heard you threaten to kill your stepfather the night before he was killed, but also saw you right outside Jimmy's office the afternoon he was murdered?"
"That's right." Bethany nodded her head.
"We'll add them to the list," Morgan said.
"But they adored Jimmy," Bethany said. "Vivian has been with him for over ten years. She worshipped him. And Tony … well, Tony was the heir apparent. Jimmy had made it perfectly clear that when he retired, he would turn over Wake Up Birmingham to Tony."
"We'll add them to the list. If Vivian's been around that long, there's a good chance there was more than friendship between her and Jimmy. And who knows, maybe Tony didn't want to wait for his boss to retire before taking over. That gives me four names to work with," Morgan said. "Four possibilities."
"Five," Maxine said.
Bethany shook her head. "No. Don't."
"Don't what?" Morgan asked. "Who is this fifth person?"
"Seth Renfrew." Maxine glanced apologetically at her client. "Sorry, Bethany, but we did agree to be totally honest with Morgan. It's the only way he can do
his job effectively."
"Seth Renfrew? Bethany's business partner. What's the guy's motive?"
"Seth loves he loves the whole family," Maxine said. "His and Eileen's friendship predates her marriage to Farraday. He would do anything for her. And he adores Bethany and Anne Marie. He was outraged that Jimmy Farraday actually made a pass at Anne Marie."
"Farraday did what?" Morgan sprung out of his chair.
"That's the reason I slapped Jimmy and threatened to kill him," Bethany said. "That night at Mother's party, just as Tony and Vivian walked into the study. You see I knew exactly what Jimmy was capable of. He—he tried to rape me not long after he and mother married. I warned him that if he ever touched Anne Marie, I'd kill him."
Morgan closed his eyes as pure rage coursed through his body. He slammed his fists into the back of the chair in which he'd been sitting, knocking it over.
"Hell, it's a good thing someone's already killed that sorry bastard or I'd kill him myself!" Morgan paced the floor, his big feet thundering against the wooden surface. "Now, I understand why his own son said that whoever killed Farraday deserved a medal." And he would understand if Bethany had killed the SOB. A mother intent on protecting her child would do just about anything, even kill.
"You see why I said that we had to include Seth Renfrew as a suspect." Maxine calmly leaned over, grasped the back of the overturned chair and set it upright again. "Anyone who cares deeply for Bethany, her daughter or her mother had a motive."
Halting directly behind Bethany's chair, Morgan mentally listed the suspects. James Farraday, Jr. Eileen Dow Farraday. Vivian Crosby. Tony Hayes. And Seth Renfrew. Five suspects.
And one of them was a man who cared deeply for Bethany. Her friend. Her business partner. A man who had spent the night in her home. Was Seth Renfrew Bethany's lover? Anne Marie didn't seem to think so.
"Anyone who loved Bethany wouldn't allow her to go through the nightmare of being falsely accused of Farraday's murder, would they?" Leaning over the back of Bethany's chair, Morgan laid his hands on top of her shoulders.
Bethany closed her eyes the moment he touched her, savoring the feel of his strong hands on her body.
"Perhaps if the person who killed Jimmy is someone who cares for Bethany, he or she is waiting to see if this case goes to trial," Maxine said.
Bethany opened her eyes and took a deep breath, then laid her left hand on top of Morgan's right hand that tenderly caressed her shoulder. "Has a date been set yet for the grand jury hearing?" she asked.
"Not yet, but I don't think it'll be much longer." Maxine stared at Bethany's hand lying on top of Morgan's. "Our D.A. is in a hurry to make a name for himself."
Bethany patted Morgan's hand. "If you're finished here, we really need to go. I want to stop by the hospital and see Lisa for a few minutes. Then we need to pick up Anne Marie from Mother's. We promised her that we'd grill steaks and go swimming this evening."
Maxine shook hands with Morgan, then hugged Bethany when they started to leave. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."
Once alone in Bethany's Mercedes, Morgan knew he had to ask her two questions. He didn't doubt for a minute that she would answer both questions truthfully.
"Beth?"
She wished he wouldn't use the nickname he'd called her after they'd become intimate all those years ago. When he called her Beth, old feelings resurfaced and threatened to consume her.
"Yes?"
"Did you kill Jimmy Farraday?"
She took her eyes off the highway in front of her for a split second, just long enough to glance quickly at Morgan and see the fear in his eyes. He hadn't believed her capable of murder until he'd realized the reason she'd threatened Jimmy's life. A parent would do anything to protect a child.
"No, Morgan, I didn't kill Jimmy."
Relief washed over him, erasing his doubts, like an ocean tide removing footprints from a sandy beach. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had killed the sorry SOB, but he was damned glad she hadn't.
He wasn't sure exactly how she'd take his other question, but hell, if she hadn't been offended by his asking if she'd murdered a man, surely she wouldn't get angry over a little personal inquiry.
"Is Seth Renfrew your lover?"
The absurdity of the question burst a damn of pent-up emotions within Bethany. Once she started laughing, she couldn't stop. Sweet, soul-cleansing laughter eased the tension that had been building inside her for endless days.
"I'm sorry…" She giggled. "It's just that…" More giggles. Clasping the steering wheel in one hand, Bethany lifted the other and covered her mouth in an effort to stem her laughter.
"Dammit, what's so funny?"
Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Bethany stole another glance at Morgan. He glared at her.
"What's so funny? You are," she said. "And I am. The question you asked me is."
"What's so funny about my asking you if Renfrew is your lover?"
"Seth Renfrew is not now nor has he ever been my lover," Bethany said, suddenly sobering, the smile vanishing from her face. "I've had one husband, with whom I had sex. But I've had only one lover."
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
Stunned by what Bethany told him, Morgan didn't react immediately. Perhaps he had misunderstood her. Surely she didn't mean that she hadn't been with a man since Amery died.
But no, he hadn't misunderstood. That's exactly what she'd meant by her profound statement: "I've had one husband, with whom I had sex. But I've had only one lover." His heartbeat accelerated. The deafening roar of blood pumping through his body throbbed in his ears.
How was it possible that a woman as beautiful and desirable as Bethany had been celibate for the past twelve years? It didn't make any sense.
And why had she told him that she'd had only one lover? She'd had sex with Amery, but he hadn't been her lover?
Only one lover. He suddenly felt as if he'd been poleaxed. For a couple of seconds he couldn't get his breath, then his lungs began functioning again and he gulped in a deep swallow of air.
Turning toward her, his gaze focused on her face, he watched her as she looked straight ahead, not taking her eyes off the highway. She clenched her jaw tightly. One lone tear trickled from her eye, slid down the side of her face and onto her neck.
"Beth?" He reached out, intending to touch her. Her body tensed. She bit down on her bottom lip. He dropped his hand, spreading his open palm over his thigh. He realized that she didn't want him to touch her.
They drove in utter silence for a while, north on I-65 and through the interconnecting interstates looping around downtown Birmingham. Watching her intently, Morgan controlled an almost irresistible urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. The idea was laughable. Morgan Kane wasn't the kind of guy who comforted women. Hell, he wasn't the kind of guy who comforted anyone. He'd spent his whole life doing what he wanted, fulfilling his own needs and not giving much thought to anyone else.
"Beth, honey, we need to talk," he finally said.
She gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled ferocity. "I can't talk to you now, Morgan. Not while I'm trying to drive in this traffic."
He didn't press her to say anything else.
But when they arrived at Carraway Methodist Medical Center and she maneuvered her Mercedes into the parking space, he grabbed her arm as she undid her seat belt.
"Let's talk now," he said. "I think you owe me an explanation."
She glanced down at his hand gripping her arm, then lifted her gaze to his face. "I don't owe you anything."
He released her arm. "You're right. You don't. But I need to know, honey. You can't say something like that to a man and not—"
"You want an explanation?" She whipped around in the seat and faced him, her hazel eyes narrowing as she glared at him. "You want to know why I haven't been with a man since Amery died. You want to know why I said I'd had only one lover."
"You had sex with Amery, but h
e wasn't your lover? Yeah, I'd say that needs explaining."
"When I was eighteen I fell in love with you that first night, when you kissed me in the garden." Bethany took a deep, calming breath. "And when I was nineteen I gave myself to you. Body. Heart. Soul. I gave you everything I had to give. I trusted you. I thought you loved me as much as I loved you."
"Ah, Beth, honey…" What could he say after all these years? If he told her that he had discovered, too late, how much she meant to him, would she believe him? Would she think he was lying if he told her that he had come back for her—on her wedding day?
"I was so sure we'd eventually get married. My mother and your parents had everything planned for us."
"But you and I didn't plan anything," he said. "We never discussed marriage. Never made plans for the future."
"You didn't," she told him. "But I did. In my mind." She laid her clenched hand on her chest. "In my heart."
"I was a selfish bastard. I admit it. I gladly took what you offered and I didn't think about you."
She glared at him, her mind accepting his admission for what it was—Morgan's confession of guilt. But her heart would not accept his apology. It was too little, too late. Her heart wanted more. Perhaps more than Morgan Kane had to give.
"When you left … just went away and didn't let anyone know where you'd gone … I was devastated," she told him. "I couldn't believe that you'd cared so little for me, that what we'd shared meant nothing to you."
He reached for her; she eased away from him, until her back pressed against the car door. "What we shared did mean something to me. I did care, Beth. I swear I did."
"Maybe you did, but not enough to stay. Not enough to marry me and build a life with me."
A MAN LIKE MORGAN KANE Page 8