“Then I’ll trail along behind you and sleep in the driveway in my car if I have to,” Katie said. “Your father has been a good friend to me, and I’m not going to let him down. I think the adult thing for all of us to do”—she pierced Sophie with a look—“is to rally behind your dad and see how we can help him . . . starting with a visit to Mr. Parsons. If we can find out what evidence the deputies used to arrest him, then maybe we can help refute its validity.”
“Okay,” Sophie said. Before the younger girls could protest, Sophie turned her stern gaze on them. Both looked . . . not cowed, but effectively silenced. “Let’s go see Mr. Parsons.”
* * *
—
On the drive to Rochester and attorney Bill Parsons’s office, Sadie and Sasha grumbled about why Sophie was so quick to give in to Katie. Katie drove with Sophie riding shotgun and the younger girls in the backseat griping as if their chauffeur couldn’t understand every word of their angry whispers.
“Why did Dad have Mr. Parsons call her and not us?” Sadie asked.
“Or even Grandma and Grandpa?” That was Sasha.
“I don’t know.” Sophie sighed. “But the best thing we can do right now is to go along with her . . . at least to the attorney’s office. Since he called her, she might be able to find out more than we can.”
As soon as they entered the office, however, Katie saw that the battle was still raging. They filed into the reception area, and Katie started to introduce herself to the middle-aged receptionist.
“Hello, I’m Katie—”
Sophie muscled Katie to the side. “Sophie Davenport. We’re here to see Bill Parsons concerning our dad, Raymond Davenport.”
“Mr. Parsons is still at the jail meeting with Mr. Davenport at the moment,” the receptionist said, giving them a pleasant smile. “If you’d like to sit down, he shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Fortunately, there was no one waiting in the lobby. Katie would have hated for a bunch of strangers to have overheard that Ray was in jail. She and Ray’s daughters sat facing the door, so they’d be able to see Parsons when he came in.
Sasha wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock back and forth. “Our dad is in jail.”
Katie leaned over to put a hand on Sasha’s arm, but the girl pulled away. Instead, big sister Sophie went to comfort her youngest sister and pulled her into an embrace.
Sasha mumbled something about Ray being handcuffed and fingerprinted. “. . . so humiliated.”
“Humiliation is the least of Dad’s worries right now,” Sadie said. “If he goes to prison, all of those criminals he’s put away for years will kill him.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Katie said firmly.
“You don’t know that,” Sadie argued.
Katie looked into Sadie’s bleak eyes and had to admit—if only to herself—that the girl was right. She didn’t know anything. She’d never expected Ray to be arrested. She thought Ken Fenton’s real killer would have been found long before it came to that.
Parsons walked in on a scene of three frightened young women and one adult who looked as if she might break into tears at any moment. “And you ladies are?”
The receptionist looked up from behind her computer screen. “Bill, this is Ray Davenport’s wife and daughters.”
“She is not our mother!” chorused from all three girls in strident tones.
Katie stood and stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Katie Bonner. We spoke earlier.”
“Of course.” Parsons shook her hand then gestured to the others. “Let’s step into the conference room.”
Once the women were seated around the rectangular conference room table—the Davenport sisters on one side and Katie on the other—Parsons closed the door and took a seat at the head of the table. He removed a yellow legal pad from his briefcase.
Katie could see that the first page of the pad was filled with notes. She tried to surreptitiously read them but couldn’t make out anything. She made a mental note to call Seth Landers later to find out if Parsons had a good reputation in the legal community. Then she tried to tell herself that because of his years in law enforcement, Ray knew and had chosen a good criminal attorney . . . despite the fact that he might be concerned with the cost.
Parsons folded his hands atop the legal pad. “Thanks for coming into the office. Your dad’s main concern is for you girls, and since your grandparents can’t get here before his arraignment tomorrow morning, he has asked that Ms. Bonner stay with you until then.”
“What will happen at the arraignment?” Sophie asked.
“The judge will read the charges against him, and your dad—through me, his counsel—will enter a plea of not guilty. Then the judge will determine the amount to set bail . . . if bail is granted.”
“If it’s granted?” Sophie asked, her voice rising.
Sadie and Sasha voiced their concerns about bail as well. Parsons raised a hand in a placating motion. “I feel confident bail will be set. Your father is an upstanding member of society, and since you—his family—and his business are here, he doesn’t pose a flight risk.”
“What new evidence did the police find that led to Ray’s arrest?” Katie asked.
“That was . . . ah . . . Mr. Davenport’s wedding ring.”
“What makes the detectives so certain that it’s Ray’s ring?” Even if the ring had Ray’s fingerprints on it, Katie reasoned, that still wasn’t proof that it was his ring.
“It was engraved,” Sophie said, her voice cracking. “It said ‘Forever, Ray. Love, Rachel.’”
“Mom’s ring was engraved, too,” Sadie said. “And Dad never took his ring off . . . at least, not until you came along and started flirting with him.”
“Wait.” Katie ignored Sadie’s dig. “If Ray wasn’t wearing the ring anymore, then how did it get to the crime scene?”
“Not only the crime scene but the closet where Ken Fenton had been keeping his tools.” Parsons wrote something on the legal pad.
Katie guessed he was noting the fact that Ray wasn’t wearing the ring anymore and wanted to know when exactly Ray had stopped wearing the ring. It could definitely help Ray’s case.
“Did your father keep the ring in a jewelry case at home?” she asked the girls.
“He’d been wearing the ring on a chain around his neck,” Sophie said. “But he’d have noticed if it got pulled off somehow.”
“Actually, Mr. Davenport informed me that he often took the chain off and hung it on a hook near the door at Wood U when he was working so that it wouldn’t get caught up on any tools,” Parsons said.
Katie wished she knew what Parsons had written on the legal pad. She brightened. “That’s it, then!”
The four other people at the table looked at her questioningly.
“Just this afternoon, my assistant manager, Vance Ingram, told me that someone broke into Wood U recently but didn’t take anything. The deputies wrote up the incident as vandalism, but it had to be the real killer who broke into Wood U and stole your dad’s wedding ring to frame him for the murder!”
“But how does that help us?” Sadie asked.
“Unless we can prove it,” Sophie said sourly, “it doesn’t.”
* * *
—
Bill Parsons made it clear to Katie and the Davenport daughters that Ray didn’t want any of them to come to visit him at the jail. He’d been adamant that he didn’t want to see them until the arraignment the next morning . . . and preferably not then, but he “knows you’re too stubborn to let him be arraigned in peace.”
As if, Katie thought. She’d go see him now if she could stash the girls somewhere first. But, if she did that, he’d be disappointed with her. Ray wanted her with his daughters for a reason—whether that reason was their protection, his reassurance, or something else, Katie didn’t have a clue
.
Before driving back to Ray’s house, she needed to go to her apartment, feed the cats, and pack an overnight bag. When she pulled into Victoria Square, Sophie demanded to know what she was doing.
“I need to go up to my apartment, feed Mason and Della, and get a few things.” She took some money from her purse and handed it to Sophie. “You three go into Angelo’s and order us a pizza for dinner. I’ll be right back.”
Sophie shoved the money back at Katie. “We’ve got our own money.”
“Just take it and do what I ask you to do. I don’t want to be in this predicament any more than the rest of you, but we need to make the best of it . . . for your dad’s sake.”
“Fine.” Sophie got out of the car. Her sisters followed suit, and the three of them glumly stomped into the pizzeria.
Katie hurried upstairs. Mason and Della were thrilled to see her earlier than usual.
Her ringtone sounded, and Katie recognized the Artisans Alley number. “Katie?” It was Vance.
“Hi, Vance. I don’t have a lot of time to talk right now. Ray has asked that I stay with his daughters. He’s being arraigned in the morning. Have you heard any gossip in that regard?”
“No. And I haven’t told a soul.”
“I knew you wouldn’t, but you know how news travels on the Square,” Katie said gravely.
“Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?”
She sighed. “No, but I appreciate your asking. Just cover for me if anyone wants to know where I am for the rest of the day. Say I’m running errands or something.”
“Will do.”
Katie said good-bye and ended the call. She opened the cat food can, dumping it into one bowl, and the kibble into another, and was filling the cats’ water dish when Andy came through the kitchen door.
“So, what’s going on with the Delightful Davenport Divas?” he asked.
Katie gave him a wan smile. “Good use of alliteration. I’m stuck with babysitting them tonight, so I asked them to get us a pizza.”
“Babysitting?” He shook his head. “Sophie is—what? Eighteen—nineteen? Why do they need babysitting?”
“Her point exactly,” Katie said. “However, Ray’s attorney called and asked me to watch over them. I don’t think Ray wants them to be alone.”
“His attorney? What’s going on?”
“Please keep this to yourself, but Ray has been arrested for the murder of Ken Fenton. He’s being arraigned in the morning. Hopefully, the judge will set bail then, and Ray can get out of there.”
“But why do you have to stay with his daughters?” Andy asked. “They have grandparents they can stay with. Besides, they can’t stand you.”
“I’m well aware of the fact that they despise me. They’ve made that abundantly clear. But their grandparents live too far away to get here before the arraignment. And I’m guessing Ray doesn’t want to tell them anything until he has to.”
“I don’t like the thought of you staying with those spiteful girls.”
“Yeah, I don’t particularly like it, either. But it’s just for one night. And what are they going to do? Murder me in my sleep?” Katie tried to laugh, but the sound came out hollow even to her ears.
“You don’t know,” Andy said. “The apple might not fall far from the tree.”
Katie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Andy, you know as well as I do that Ray didn’t kill Ken Fenton.”
“That’s just it—we don’t know anything of the kind.”
Twenty
After eating their dinner in stony silence, the girls tossed the pizza box and paper plates into the trash can and went into the den. They closed the door behind them with a slam, making it clear that Katie wasn’t welcome.
She wandered into the living room and looked at the furniture. She was drawn to the overstuffed leather recliner, which she knew was Ray’s chair. She walked over and saw that a magazine rack sat to the side of the chair. In it were law enforcement magazines, woodworking magazines, and a couple of crossword puzzle books. As she sank onto the chair, she plucked one of the puzzle books out of the rack. Ray’s pencil marked his place.
Katie desperately wished she could talk to Ray. She knew it was impossible for anyone except Bill Parsons to see him, and even he would have to have a plausible reason at this time of the evening. Even if visitors were allowed, Katie knew Schuler wouldn’t allow her to speak with Ray. If the detective truly believed Ray killed Ken Fenton, he might think it was at Katie’s behest.
With a sigh, she picked up the pencil and looked down at the clues.
A five-letter word for aggravation.
“That’s easy—g-i-r-l-s.”
Nope. As appropriate as it was tonight, that was not the word. This particular five-letter word started with a T.
T-r-i-a-l.
She gulped. The thought of Ray having to endure a trial sickened her . . . especially when she considered that he might be wrongfully convicted and sent to prison. She put the pencil back into the book and returned it to the rack. Then she took out her phone and called Seth.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Seth. It’s Katie. I’ve got a professional question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you familiar with a Rochester attorney by the name of Bill Parsons?”
“Yes. Bill is capable and highly respected. Is he the best criminal attorney in the business? Maybe not. But he is competent and will help Ray build a strong defense.”
“How did you know I was asking about him on Ray’s behalf?” she asked.
“I know because I saw Bill at the courthouse earlier. He was requesting that Ray be arraigned this afternoon, so he wouldn’t have to spend the night in jail and away from his family. But, as you know, that didn’t happen.”
“Could another attorney have managed to get the arraignment this afternoon? Could you have done it?”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you have such confidence in me, but no. I’m a general practice attorney who does wills and real estate closings. It was just too late in the day, and the judge had a full docket.”
“Oh. All right.”
“Don’t worry, Katie. Everything will get sorted out.”
When Katie remained silent, Seth forced a jovial note into his voice and changed the subject. “I should have the Merchants Association contract ready tomorrow.”
“Great. Thanks, Seth. But, I wonder, what if Ray needs help with bail? Is that something the Merchants Association could help him with?”
“Not a chance.”
Ray had only been renting a home in McKinlay Mill. He had probably banked the money from the sale of his former home. How much of that would he have to pay to secure his bond?
Katie looked toward the closed door to the den. If Ray was refused bail, how would his daughters react? Just as troubling, what would Katie do and what could she do to remedy the situation without invoking Andy’s ire?
She didn’t want to think about it.
* * *
—
Katie didn’t know how long she sat in Ray’s comfy leather chair thinking and staring at the wall. As she pictured Ray miserable in his stark jail cell, her mind jumped to Andy—probably perfectly happy in his cozy pizza parlor with the lovely Erikka. Her eyelids got heavy . . . heavier . . .
She and Ray were on a tarmac . . . and the entire scene was in black-and-white. Ray was wearing a trench coat and a fedora, and Katie had on a prim suit with a skirt and jacket. She even wore gloves and carried a dainty purse.
“We’re in Casablanca!” Katie said.
“I’ve been thinking, schweetheart.”
Katie’s eyes widened at Ray’s terrible Humphrey Bogart impression.
“The problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world,” Ray continued
.
“Ray, what in the world are you talking about?” Katie was relieved that her voice sounded nothing like that of Ingrid Bergman.
“You belong with Andy. If you stayed here with me, you’d regret it. Maybe not today . . . maybe not tomorrow . . . but soon . . . and for the rest of your life.”
At that moment, Erikka—wearing a tight white dress—sashayed across the tarmac behind Ray to the cheesy accompaniment of a slide trombone and a snare drum. She stopped and waved a lace handkerchief to someone out of Katie’s line of sight.
“Yoo-hoo! Andy! I’m coming, darling!” Then, with a triumphant glare at Katie, Erikka flounced off to where Andy was presumably waiting.
Ray jerked his head in the direction Erikka had gone. “Go to him, kid. That femme fatale will ruin Andy. You’re the woman he needs. But first . . .” He grabbed Katie, pulled her close, and then bent her over his arm for a passionate kiss.
“What the—?”
“We’ll always have Victoria Schquare,” Ray said. “Here’s lookin’ at you—”
Katie shook herself awake. She blew out a breath and wondered what in the world had been on that pizza. She involuntarily recalled Andy’s words about “those spiteful girls,” but she quickly dismissed the ridiculous notion that Ray’s daughters had poisoned her pizza—everyone had eaten out of the same box.
She rose from the chair and went to find out what the “little angels” were up to.
The Davenport sisters were huddled at the kitchen table around a half gallon of fudge-swirl ice cream.
“Mind if I join you?” Katie asked.
Sophie lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Grab a spoon. They’re in the drawer to the left of the sink.”
Katie got a spoon from the drawer and helped herself to a taste of the creamy treat. She hoped it wouldn’t lead to any more disturbing dreams.
For a minute or two, no one met anyone else’s eyes . . . until Katie couldn’t stand it anymore. “We need to put our heads together and figure out how to get your dad out of this mess.”
Murder Ink Page 18