Текст книги "Directing Disaster"
Автор книги: Kate Kane
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Directing Disaster
Lane Parker Mysteries #4
By Kate Kane
Directing Disaster is a work of fiction. Characters, Incidents, Names, and Places are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any events, locales, or Persons living or dead is completely coincidental.
Directing Disaster
Kate Kane
Copyright Kane Communications 2014
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited by Kade Kane
Beta Reader Jennifer H
Cover images courtesy of Canstockphoto.com
Cover Design by Kate Kane
Dedication
While the Parker, Bellini, Luciano and Kelly families were born in my brain, I have to thank my own family for their encouragement and help.
Thanks to all of you for listening, laughing, and encouraging me as I talk about the disasters and dilemmas my other family faces. And thanks for telling all of your friends where to find the books.
Visit Kate Kane’s website katekanewrites.com
Author’s Note
I love hearing from my readers you can contact me by clicking this link.
Just a note about the use of Italian dialog between characters. When the Bellini and Luciano families talk to each other, they almost always speak Italian. When they speak Italian in front of non-Italian speaking characters, the dialog appears in Italian. I do this to help my readers feel the frustration and exclusion that the characters in the book feel during exchanges they don’t understand. As an avid reader myself, I hate it when an author uses words, phrases, or complete sentences in a language that’s foreign to me and leaves me wondering and often searching the internet to figure out what the character is saying. So, for my readers, I provide a hyperlink from the Italian dialog to the translation for it. The translation has a hyperlink that returns the reader back to the spot in the book where you were before. I hope you find this helpful.
Other Books by Kate Kane
The Lane Parker Series
Favor for a Friend
Family Secrets
Lunch at the Club
Coming Soon:
Murder, Mystery, and Merlot – The Book Club Mysteries Coming in 2015
Apparently solving mysteries is contagious. Lane’s Book Club members have joined the club, need I say more?
The Chronicles of Gate’s Keepers Coming in late 2015
Chapter One – Reconnecting
Chapter Two – Trial of the Century
Chapter Three – Feeling Sick
Chapter Four – God How Tiring
Chapter Five – A Proposition
Chapter Six – Off the Merry-go-round
Chapter Seven – Truce?
Chapter Eight – That Stain’s Never Coming Out
Chapter Nine – Reunion
Chapter Ten – Paparazzi
Chapter Eleven – The Prosecution Rests
Chapter Twelve – Confessions
Chapter Thirteen – A Merry Chase
Chapter Fourteen – The Eyes Have It
Chapter Fifteen – The Bells Are Ringing
Chapter Sixteen – Tabloid Lies
Chapter Seventeen -That’s Not Funny
Chapter Eighteen – Retail Therapy?
Chapter Nineteen – Wasn’t I Just Here
Chapter Twenty – Dead is Dead
Chapter Twenty-One -That Makes No Sense at All
Chapter Twenty-Two – The Defense Rests
Chapter Twenty-Three – Friday Afternoon
Chapter Twenty-Four – Keeping Secrets
Chapter Twenty-Five – Tossing the Ball
Chapter Twenty-Six – Busted
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Comes the Dawn
Chapter Twenty-Eight – That Makes Three
Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Reception
Chapter Thirty – Sunday Brunch
Chapter Thirty-One – California Here I Come
Italian Translations
Dedication
About the Author
Other Books by Kate Kane
Coming Attractions
Kate Answers your Questions
Preview Lane’s Next Adventure
Chapter 1
Reconnecting
It was Monday of the second week of October. Lane Parker hadn’t heard from her fiancé, Ben Bellini, in weeks, though she had seen him on the news once or twice. Ben was a criminal defense attorney, and his current trial, which started just before he told her he needed a break, was going into its sixth week and was making headlines on both the local and national levels. Rumor was that Kathleen Greene, a former judge who now has her own show on the Justice Channel providing commentary on high profile legal matters, was coming to Kansas City; a sure sign that Ben was about to become famous.
Maybe that was why he’d told her that he needed a break. This was such a high profile case and Lane worried that perhaps he was afraid that his winning streak, zero losses and who knew how many wins, was coming to an end. She wished she could comfort and encourage him, but he’d been clear. Nearly six weeks ago he’d suggested they needed some space and she was giving it to him.
She still wore the engagement ring he’d given her. He hadn’t said he wanted to break things off, only that he needed space. She ran her finger over the diamond and platinum filigree heart necklace he’d given her as an engagement gift. It had a key dangling from it, and when he’d given it to her, he’d said it was to remind her that she held the key to his heart. If he didn’t get over this need for space soon, her heart would break.
Her assistant Meg, who was dating Lane’s oldest son, came into Lane’s office. “You have a call from Detective McGuire.”
A few months earlier, Lane had been involved in a murder investigation. Well, more like she’d been the prime suspect and Mick McGuire had been the investigator. Mick was a friend of Ben’s; they played basketball together once a week in a league consisting mostly of cops. In the end, when Lane had been held hostage by the real murderer, both Ben and Mick had come in to rescue her, with guns drawn. Then, last month, when a delusional woman had broken into Ben’s house, Lane had called Mick.
She looked warily at Meg. “I’ll take the call.”
Meg looked at the carafe of hot tea on Lane’s desk. “Do you need some more tea?”
Lane had been feeling tired and a little sickly. She’d been treating the flu symptoms with tea and crackers and it seemed to be working. She nodded to Meg as she picked up the phone.
“Mick, hi. What can I do for you?”
Mick took a breath. He hadn’t spoken to Lane in over a month, since the night Ben had taken him to her house for dinner. He’d forgotten how much he loved the sound of her voice. When is she going to come to her senses and realize that Bellini just isn’t the right man for her?
“There’s a hearing scheduled for Rochelle Jones next week, and I wondered if you had heard anything from the prosecutor about testifying?”
Rochelle Jones was the lunatic who had broken into Ben’s house last month. Lane had been on the phone with Ben when Rochelle had broken in and waived a gun around at Ben as she declared her love and devotion. Lane had called Mick via three-way calling and he’d heard the whole thing. Rochelle was also suspected of killing a woman who was an ex-girlfriend of Ben’s, and had been put in a treatment facility but apparently now there was going to be a hearing.
“No, I haven’t heard from the prosecutor. Is it a competency hearing or something,” Lane asked as she scrolled through her e-mail in-box.
“Yeah, something like that. I can’t believe Ben hasn’t mentioned it.” Please, Lord, let her tell me they’ve broken up. Mick thought.
“Ben hasn’t said a thing about it. He’s been pretty busy with that trial, you know.”
That sounded like an opening to him, “How about I pick you up and we talk about it over lunch? Can you get away?”
Lane looked at her calendar. She was the Chief Privacy Officer for Telco Unlimited; most days it felt like she spent 10 hours a day in meetings, but today her afternoon was free, and maybe some fresh air would make her feel better.
“I could do lunch. I’m free for the rest of the day.”
“Great. I’ll be there in ten,” Mick said, and not waiting for a response, he ended the call.
Lane laughed. When they first met, Mick had shown up for lunch three days in a row. That was when she had been sure she was his prime suspect. She remembered thinking that you knew you were in trouble when Columbo started showing up all of the time. The other thing she remembered was that Mick McGuire had trouble estimating time. If he said he’d be at her office in ten minutes, chances were good that he was calling from in front of the building.
She hoped she’d have time to stop in the ladies’ room. All of that tea was just running right through her. She told Meg that she was heading out for lunch.
“Meeting Detective McGuire,” Meg, who had a tendency to be all up in Lane’s business, asked.
Usually it didn’t bother Lane, but since Ben had begun their hiatus it seemed like everything bothered her. “Yes, I’ll be on my cell if you need me,” Lane replied as she picked up her purse and headed out of her office.
When Meg had first met Mick, who was six feet four inches tall with dark hair just turning silver around the temples, she had thought he looked a bit like Pierce Brosnan. Meg had called him tall dark and handsome and then she’d met Ben. She had called him tall dark and oh my god gorgeous. Ben was also six feet four inches tall, with dark hair minus the silver. He could be George Clooney’s taller, younger, much, much better looking brother.
Lane stopped in the restroom before taking the elevator to the lobby. As she suspected, she found Mick sitting in front of the building. He quickly got out of his Explorer and opened the passenger door.
Lane had her strawberry blonde hair in a French twist, diamond hoop earrings sparkling as she walked. Mick recalled that she always wore her hair up when she was at work. She wore a red wool suit with a cream colored silk shell and three inch red heels. She was gorgeous.
Mick walked around and got into the SUV as Lane buckled her seatbelt. “How does the Cheesecake Factory sound,” he asked. He noticed she was still wearing the boulder of an engagement ring Bellini had given her.
Lane smiled. “I could stand a little cheesecake.”
They talked a bit about the weather and politics during the fifteen minute drive. Mick could barely keep his eyes off Lane and focus on the traffic as he drove.
They were seated quickly, and the looks the other patrons gave them as they walked to their table wasn’t lost on him. It reminded him of the first lunch they’d shared. He smiled. She’d been wearing red that day too. They’d met at J. Alexander’s. Mick hadn’t recognized Lane that day as she had approached him, but he remembered how the crowd in the waiting area had separated for her like Moses parting the Red Sea. People noticed her and she was oblivious to it, and it was sexy as hell.
The waitress quickly came and took their drink orders. Lane had ordered iced tea when they had lunched together in the summer, but today she ordered hot tea and Mick looked quizzically at her.
She smiled. “I’ve been feeling a little under the weather.”
If this is how she looked when she wasn’t feeling well, he’d like to see her when she was feeling great. He thought about last summer, she’d been suffering from migraine headaches when he’d first met her. He shook his head. It didn’t matter; she was gorgeous even when she wasn’t feeling well. Lane was five feet ten inches tall and his cop eyes would put her at about 175 pounds. She had big blue eyes and didn’t appear to have a single wrinkle on her face.
The waitress brought their drinks and took their order. Lane ordered the Shepard’s pie. How can she eat like that and keep her shape? Mick wondered as he ordered a Caesar Salad. Lane waited for Mick to say something about the Rochelle Jones case, so far he hadn’t mentioned it.
She filled the silence. “Tell me about your kids. When is Michael’s baby due?” Mick’s oldest son, Michael was a pharmacist, married and expecting his first child, but Lane couldn’t remember when.
“Close to Christmas. They’re pretty excited.” Mick was in his early fifties and talking about being a grandfather made him feel old.
“What about Shane? I think I’ve seen him on the news a couple of times.” His middle child, Shane was a sports reporter for the local Fox affiliate. Lane was pretty sure she’d seen him reporting during one or two of her son Jamie’s football games.
“You probably have, he’s been getting a lot of on-air time lately. He’s fine.”
“What about your daughter, Kiley? She’s a nurse, right? How is she?”
“Yeah, she’s doing well, still living at home. She’s working at Shawnee Mission Medical Center. She works in the NICU, the neonatal intensive care unit. You know, for premature babies. She loves it.”
He had met Lane’s daughter last summer at Lane’s birthday party. What was her name? “How about your daughter, how is she?”
Lane smiled. Her daughter, Jess, was fine. She’d been a student at UCLA when she’d been cast in movies being made from a book trilogy. Harts in Time, which was the first book and movie, would start filming soon in Europe. “Jess is doing well.” She smiled, thinking, “Where has Mick been that he doesn’t know about Jess’s movie role?”
“She was cast in a movie and she’ll start filming next month in Europe.” Maybe Mick didn’t pay any attention to entertainment news. She wasn’t sure that she would, if Jess weren’t in the business.
Their lunches were delivered and they continued to talk as they ate. She knew Mick was a widower. She wondered if he dated and thought about some of her book club friends. Maybe she could introduce him to one of them.
When the check came, Mick grabbed it thinking this went far better than their last lunch together. He drove her back to the office, and as she walked into her building, she shook her head. Mick hadn’t said a single word about Rochelle Jones.
Chapter 2
Trial of the century
Ben was exhausted. He was defending a state senator, who had gone out before dawn for his daily run, and had come home to find his pregnant wife dead in their bed. The baby had been cut from her abdomen, and to his amazement was lying on the bed; and she, the baby, was alive. Senator Harold had called 9-1-1 as any good citizen would have done; and in doing so, had become the prime suspect. Partially because of the heinousness of the crime and partially because he was a state senator who was rumored to be exploring a move into national politics, the major networks had picked up the story. Every day was like running a gauntlet to get past the cameras and the news crews as Ben made his way into or out of the courthouse. Thank God there were no cameras in the courtroom.
It didn’t help that he was having trouble sleeping. He’d finished jury selection on the Friday after Labor Day, with opening arguments starting the following Monday. Because he had a crazy woman break into his house and threaten him, and because Lila Crane, an obsessed ex-girlfriend, had threatened Lane; Jess had convinced Ben the only way to keep Lane safe was to step away from her. So before the trial began, he’d told Lane he needed some space. That was six weeks ago and only four days after he’d proposed. It was the worst decision he’d ever made in his life. He was drowning in space.
His family was barely speaking to him, which made things especially difficult since his Uncle Salvatore Luciano was co-counsel and in the courtroom every day. Everyone in his family was tremendously fond of Lane, and they were all furious that she was conspicuously missing and Ben wasn’t talking about why. Ben was notorious for going through women faster than some people changed underwear, and they were sure he’d screwed up. They were right. He had. Just not the way they thought. It was true that Ben had been quite a player before he started dating Lane, and the whole family was certain that he’d cheated on the lovely Angel of the Valley (Lane had been born Angelique Valle). He’d rather cut off his left nut than cheat on Lane. He planned to be faithful to her for the rest of eternity. But he’d still made up some stupid excuse about needing space because Lane had mentioned a prenup.
The truth was the day after Lane mentioned the prenup, he’d had his cousin, Daniella Luciano, a partner in the law firm, draw one up. It gave Lane everything she had before the marriage, everything she earned during the marriage and half of everything he earned during the marriage. Daniella had told him it was the worst prenup she’d ever seen, and she was ashamed to have her name associated with it. It didn’t matter. He knew that a prenup would never be needed. Still, if Lane wanted a prenup to assure her, then she’d have one.
Lane had been married twice before, both times to idiots of different varieties. Her first husband, Gus, had been a musician who couldn’t or wouldn’t keep away from the groupies. He’d come home after having spent months on the road and given her a case of the clap, courtesy of one of his little friends. Her second husband, Phillip, had come home after a business trip, and made love to her before coming out of the closet and walking out the door, leaving her for his boyfriend Ralphie.
Her son Jake was five years old and Jess was 18 months. To make the situation even more complicated; shortly after Phillip left, Lane had found out she was pregnant. Lane had raised her three children alone and Ben didn’t blame her for wanting some kind of assurances. He also suspected her real motivation for asking was to ensure that if anything happened between them, her children were taken care of. What she didn’t know was that he’d already set up a trust fund for each of her three children. In fact, he’d done it nearly a year before he’d proposed. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to broach the subject with her yet.
He’d met Lane three years earlier, when she had first moved to Kansas from Omaha. They had become friends, hanging out together, seeing movies, going to dinner and even going to church together every Saturday night, but he’d kept Friday night open for his date night. He’d spent most of the last three years dating (and screwing) every wrong woman he could find, while the love of his life stood right in front of him. He’d finally figured it out four months ago. It took him another three months after that to get Lane to the place where she could tell him she loved him. He had proposed the next day, giving her a ring from a little blue box from Tiffany’s that he’d been holding onto for weeks.
*****
Uncle Sal had agreed to do an interview with some Kathleen Greene wanna be and he was dragging Ben along. Uncle Sal was perfectly capable of skirting questions and charming the interviewer, so Ben knew it was punishment. Ben and his uncle were Italian; Italians are all about retribution. Sal hadn’t asked about Lane. That’s the thing about lawyers, in the courtroom and often outside it, they don’t ask a question they don’t already know the answer to. That’s why a criminal defense attorney almost never asks his client if he’s guilty. Sal wasn’t going to ask and Ben wasn’t going to tell, but Ben suspected that Sal had their investigator, Roy Tanner, looking into the Lane situation in his spare time. Thankfully, Tanner, who was a retired Kansas City, Missouri homicide detective, was pretty busy investigating for them on the Harold case.
Chapter 3
Feeling sick
Lane had been feeling sick for days now. She didn’t want to think that it had anything to do with the separation from Ben. For heaven’s sake, she was forty-nine not fifteen. They were dating, not married. She’d decided that if she didn’t feel better by the end of the week, she’d go to the doctor. Lane had also been having trouble sleeping. She fell asleep just fine, but she was having weird dreams and she’d wake up with a start, and some nights this pattern repeated more than once. She could never remember what she’d dreamed, but it was strange. Normally, she was a fairly sound sleeper.
She got up, showered and dressed. Years ago, she’d started a rotation method for organizing her closet. She put on the suit that was furthest to the left. When she took it off at night, she’d hang it on the far right. After the second wearing, she would send it to the dry cleaner. It ensured that she didn’t wear her favorite three or four outfits every day, and it took the decision making effort out of getting ready in the morning. She found it shaved off at least fifteen minutes from her morning routine and since she wasn’t a morning person, she needed all the help she could get.
Lane usually got into the office around nine o’clock. She’d started going into the office late when her kids were young so she could put them on the school bus herself. Besides, you couldn’t always control what time you left the office at night, but you could control when you got in.
She was so happy that she’d hired Meg Kelly. Meg always had Lane’s office and appointments organized, and today was no different.
“Any calls,” Lane asked, as she walked in and docked her laptop.
“Just one. Mick McGuire called.” Meg handed Lane the message.
Meg could see the disappointment on Lane’s face. She knew that Ben had been conspicuously absent for the last few weeks. Jake either didn’t know what was going on or just wasn’t talking about it. Lane hadn’t said anything either. God, thought Meg, who was nearly a foot shorter than Ben, I could just get up on a chair and slap him.
Two dozen deep red roses continued to be delivered to Lane each Tuesday. The 24 roses were symbolic, to say Ben thought about her every hour of every day, but he hadn’t called since he’d told her that he needed a break. The roses were in Lane’s office. The fragrance hit her as she talked with Meg.
Lane looked at the printed calendar Meg had laid on her desk. Only a couple of meetings today, both were this morning, a 9:30 and a 10:30.
She picked up the phone and dialed Mick’s cell phone.
“McGuire.”
“Hi, Mick. It’s Lane. Meg said you called.”
“You know, I completely forgot to talk about Rochelle Jones yesterday. I was wondering if you were free for lunch or maybe dinner tonight and we could talk.”
Lane smiled. A dinner could be misinterpreted as a date. She ran a finger over the engagement ring she wore.
“I could make lunch if you could do eleven-thirty or even noon. Where shall I meet you?”
“I can do noon. I’ll pick you up.”
Lane hung up and had Meg put Mick on her calendar. She and Meg had agreed years ago that only one of them would be in charge of her calendar and Meg had won the battle.
She got through her meetings and at noon on the dot, she took the elevator to the lobby. Mick’s SUV was parked in front of the building.
He looked up as Lane walked out. Today, she had her hair in a French braid and wore a black and cream suit. As he opened the door for her, he thought, “She looks like she could have walked out of a fashion show.”
“Where to? Lady’s choice.” He noticed that she still had on that damn boulder.
“How about Aunt Em’s Diner,” Lane replied.
Mick laughed. “Craving desert, are you?”
During the murder investigation a few months ago, he had taken her to lunch at the diner because she was craving pie. Of course, that was the day he’d found the murder weapon that had been planted under her bed. The day he’d had to take her in for questioning. The day Bellini had come to the station like a knight in shining armor to rescue her from the big bad detective. No, their last trip to Aunt Em’s hadn’t worked out so well. He hoped today would go better.
He parked, walked around the SUV and opened her door. As they walked into the diner, he thought she looked a little pale. But when they entered she turned deathly white and he barely reacted quickly enough to catch her so she didn’t fall on the floor. He grabbed his phone, dialed 9-1-1, gave them his cop code and asked for an ambulance.
*****
Lane woke up in the ER with an IV in her arm and Mick hovering over her.
“How do you feel,” he asked.
She shook her head. “Good, I’m good. Where am I?”
“You fainted at Aunt Em’s. You’re at Shawnee Mission.”
He could barely keep his tone civil. He was torn between concern for her and contempt for Bellini. The doctor who had examined her had seen the engagement ring on her finger and assumed he was the lucky fiancé as she congratulated him, not on the upcoming marriage, but for the baby they had on the way.
“I did what?”
She’d fainted only once in her life. It was when she was pregnant and the smell of greasy food had over powered her. Oh, the smell of the greasy diner was the last thing she remembered. She was looking at Mick and tried to turn away, but it was too late. She vomited all over him. Oh, God. Her mind was spinning out of control. Yes, she’d missed her period, but she was fourty-nine and she’d thought she was going through the change.
She squinted her eyes at him. Her voice was barely audible. “Am I … pregnant?”
Mick had grabbed a towel and was cleaning himself off the best he could. She’d vomited all over him the first time they met. She’d had a migraine then and the smells of death and stale popcorn in the theater had caused her to projectile vomit all over his suit.
“You’re asking me?” His voice was a low growl. What the hell? Bellini had knocked her up and was nowhere to be found. She’d said she hadn’t talked to him in a while.
She looked at him, her blue eyes wide, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Well, since you brought me to the ER and you’re the only one here at the moment who might have spoken to the doctor. Yes, Mick, I’m asking you.”
God, he’d been in love with her since the first moment he’d met her. He continued to hope she would realize that she needed a full grown man, not some pup who had a really bad habit of screwing any woman who stood still for long enough. Maybe that wasn’t fair to Bellini, but right now he didn’t care. Ben Bellini might be his basketball buddy, but he wasn’t feeling very friendly toward him just now. Lane was here, in the hospital, and was pregnant and dehydrated and God knew what. She was fourty-nine, that meant a high risk pregnancy, the doctor had told him before Mick explained that he wasn’t the fiancé. No, he wasn’t the fiancé; he was just the schmuck who was in love with her.
Mick was fifty-two, and about to become a grandfather. The last thing he needed was a baby, but if that baby belonged to Lane Parker, then sign him up. He was back where he’d been two months ago. He’d walk into hell and sell his soul to the devil, if Lane Parker would love him. This might be the break he needed.
Mick reached out and took her hand. “Yes, you’re pregnant.”
“Mick, do you think you could find the doctor for me?” She reached for her phone and called her office. Meg picked up on the first ring. “Meg, I’m going to be out for the rest of the day. Yes, everything’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The doctor came into the cubicle. “Mrs. Parker, I’m Doctor Bohnam. Congratulations, you’re pregnant. I guess you didn’t know.”
“No, I had no idea. Is everything else okay? Is there any reason I can’t go home now?”
“No, you were a little dehydrated. Morning sickness I’m guessing. You need to see your own doctor as soon as possible. There are increased risks with a pregnancy at your age.” The young female doctor leaned toward Lane. “Although I hope I look as good as you do when I’m your age.”
“Thank you? Are there discharge papers or something I need to do?” Lane couldn’t believe how stupid, insensitive, and crass some people could be, but it wasn’t her job to educate either the world on etiquette or the doctor on her bedside manner.
“I’ll send the nurse in.”
Pregnant. Well, wasn’t that something? Pregnant. She knew she needed to talk to Ben, but he’d said he needed a break and he was in the middle of that huge trial. She needed to get home. She needed to call her doctor and get a recommendation for an obstetrician. Pregnant.
Mick came back in as the nurse was finishing the discharge paper work. Lane looked at him. “Can you take me back to the office so I can pick up my car?”
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Mick, I’m pregnant, I’m not helpless.” Why did some men think that being pregnant meant a woman was suddenly helpless? She hoped the exasperation she felt hadn’t come through in her tone.
“Sure, let me go bring the Explorer up to the door.”
She shook her head. Apparently he didn’t agree that she wasn’t helpless, well she wasn’t going to waste her breath arguing.
