Текст книги "Family Secrets"
Автор книги: Kate Kane
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
“Do you have a flashlight?”
Lane walked to the nightstand on the side of the bed she still referred to as her side even though she slept alone, opened the top drawer, and retrieved a flashlight. Moments like this one made her glad she’d earned the nickname Felix. She had no doubt the only thing Mick might find under the bed was his sunglasses. She knew there were no dust bunnies under there because in her stress induced cleaning frenzy Sunday, she’d cleaned thoroughly under the bed. Mick took the flashlight, shone it under the bed, and flattened himself to the floor as he reached under the bed as far as he could.
“I can’t reach. Do you have a broom or something?”
Lane thought, how does that old wives’ tale go, your arm span is equal to your height? The guy was six feet four inches tall, which meant his reach had to be nearly three feet. The width of a Queen Size bed was about 82 inches. Lane was doing the math in her head as she walked to the kitchen broom closet and tried to figure out how his sunglasses could have worked their way to a spot under the bed that was unreachable for him. She brought the broom back to the bedroom and handed it to Mick. He bent down and swept under the bed. Out came a pair of sunglasses and a screwdriver.
“What’s that?” Lane said as she reached to pick it up.
Mick grabbed her hand. “Don’t touch it.” He pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket. Who besides a homicide detective or a pervert carried rubber gloves in their pockets?
“Have you got a plastic zip lock bag?” Lane didn’t move. Mick gave her a nudge. “Go, get me a bag, and call Ben. Tell him to meet us at the station.”
Chapter 5
A free tour of the police department
Lane handed Mick the bag as she dialed the phone.
“Red, I just got out of court.”
“Ben, thank God I reached you.”
“What’s up? We’re still on for dinner, aren’t we?”
She started sobbing. “That depends on whether I’m free to have dinner. How soon can you meet me at the Leawood police station?”
Mick came up behind Lane and took the phone from her hand. “I’ve got to take her in now,” he said, “Just get there fast.” He hung up and took Lane by the arm.
She glanced at the clock. One-fifteen. “I’ve got to call Meg and have her cancel my 1:30. I can do it from my cell in the car. Okay?”
Mick nodded as they walked through the house. “Lane, make it quick, and don’t tell her anything else.”
Lane dialed the phone. Meg answered on the first ring. “Lane, glad you called. Craig just called to move your 1:30 to tomorrow.”
“Meg, that’s great. Listen I’m going to be out for the rest of the afternoon. I’m in a hurry and can’t talk right now, I’ll check in later.”
Lane broke the connection and turned to Mick. “Quick enough for you,” she said sharply.
“Lane, I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you. You’re not under arrest. I’m just taking you in for questioning. Please, do us both a favor and don’t say anything else until Ben gets here.”
He knew he was bending the rules for her, and he’d been a cop long enough to know it wasn’t smart. Yet, for some reason he couldn’t help himself.
Mick led Lane into the station. He sat her at his desk, leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Remember, not a word to anyone about anything until Ben gets here.”
He stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he went into an office.
Lane put her elbows on Mick’s desk, leaned forward, put her forehead into her hands, closed her eyes, and began to pray silently.
“…For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future…” (Jeremiah 29:11) “For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.”(Psalm 91:11) “God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding” (Job 37:5) “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
“Lord, I know you’re in charge, not just of this, but of all situations. I know you have a purpose in everything. Help me to put my faith and trust in you. And, Lord, please help me to keep my mouth shut until my lawyer gets here. In Jesus Name, I pray. Amen.”
Lane felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes.
“Ben just checked in. Let’s go into an interview room. I’ll let you talk to Ben alone and then I’ll be in,” Mick said as he led Lane down a hall and into a small room.
Lane looked around. She’d expected something like the interview room on Law and Order. This room was slightly nicer. It was a creamy tone she’d come to think of as Johnson County beige. It had a wooden table and chairs instead of steel. Not unlike an ordinary conference room albeit smaller. Mick motioned to a chair and Lane sat down.
The door opened and Ben walked in. He put his briefcase on the table and put his arms around Lane who had stood up and practically run to him. “Are you all right, Red,” he whispered into her ear.
“I’m okay. Glad you’re here,” she whispered back.
Mick coughed into his hand and said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to talk to your client, counselor,” as he closed the door.
Mick hated that he had to bring Lane into the station. But, he couldn’t ignore that the screwdriver not only looked like it had blood on it, but it was the size and shape of the murder weapon. Mick hadn’t known Lane very long, but he prided himself on his ability to size people up quickly. He’d bet his badge and retirement that Lane hadn’t killed anyone. Not that she was incapable of inflicting pain he mused. He was sure that anyone who posed a threat to one of her three children would indeed have to answer to her and that the perpetrator would no doubt wish for death from the tongue-lashing alone. But, a severe tongue-lashing was a far cry from murder. And, Mick suspected that a tongue-lashing was the most vicious thing Lane would hand out.
Ben helped Lane to a chair. He leaned against the table, his back to the two-way mirror shielding Lane from the prying eyes of the police and his friend Mickey. He took her chin in his left hand. “All right, tell me what’s going on. Try to keep it calm and slow. Okay,” he said as he stroked her hair with his right hand.
Lane nodded and related the events of the day as she remembered them; beginning with the phone call from Mick and ending with the screwdriver that Mick found under her bed.
“So, you let Mick into the house to look for his sunglasses. He didn’t have a warrant, right?”
“No, he didn’t have a warrant. Why would he need a warrant to look for his sunglasses,” Lane asked as she began rubbing her right temple.
Ben smiled. She was the smartest woman he’d ever known and as he’d said to himself many times, she was the most naïve.
“You mean did he have a warrant to look for the screwdriver,” she said, still rubbing her temple. “Ben, I don’t know how that screwdriver got under the bed or why it was there. What I do know is that I was in full stress cleaning mode on Sunday. I cleaned thoroughly under the bed. And there was nothing at all under it when I was finished.”
“Okay, Red. That’s all I need to know. Let’s get the detective back in here. Don’t answer anything unless I give my approval. And, don’t volunteer anything. Answer only what they ask. If you’re not sure about anything, whisper your question to me. Do you think you can do that?”
Lane nodded. She knew Ben didn’t think she was stupid. She knew he was just trying to protect her from herself. She hoped she could let him.
Ben rapped on the door. Mick and another man, who introduced himself as Lieutenant Franklin, entered the room. Ben sat down to Lane’s right and held her hand. Mick sat across the table and Lt. Franklin stood by the door. This may be Lane’s first police station interview, but it sure wasn’t her first experience with intimidation. She’d guess the Lieutenant was a novice compared to her. She’d done union negotiations with the CWA of the AFL/CIO, which was one of the most powerful labor unions in America.
Mick placed a small tape recorder on the table. He stated the date and time for the record.
“Ms. Parker, we’ve brought you in to answer some questions. Counselor, Ben Bellini, represents you. You’re not under arrest. Is that clear?”
Ben squeezed Lane’s hand.
“Yes,” she said.
“This afternoon at approximately 1:00 p.m., I accompanied you to your home to look for a pair of sunglasses that I thought I may have left there yesterday. Is that correct?”
Again, Ben squeezed her hand, silently communicating that she should answer the question.
“Yes.”
“I entered the house and began my search with your permission. Is that correct?”
Lane waited for the cue from Ben. There wasn’t one.
“Ms. Parker?” Lt. Franklin nearly barked.
She turned to Ben and whispered to him, “What do I say? He did enter the house to look for his sunglasses with my permission. I’m not sure about the phrase ‘began my search’”
Ben whispered back. “Yes, he did enter to look for his sunglasses with your permission. He didn’t have permission to look for anything else.” Ben looked at the detectives.
“Define search, Detective McGuire. My client has already agreed that you entered the house with her permission to get your sunglasses.”
“All right, Counselor. Ms. Parker, were you present when I pulled my sunglasses and another object from under your bed?”
Ben squeezed Lane’s hand and watched Lt. Franklin as Lane answered. He knew the relationship between Lane and Mickey was innocent. He also knew that it could look suspicious to the Assistant District Attorney who was, Ben had no doubt, standing outside looking on. Not to mention how a jury would see it, if things ever got that far.
“Yes.”
“Did I remove that object with your permission?”
Lane looked to Ben and whispered to him, “I gave him the bag he put it in, but the truth is, he didn’t ask if he could take it. He just told me to get a bag and to call you.”
“Detective, my client tells me you didn’t ask for permission to remove the object.”
“McGuire!” Lt. Franklin barked and jerked his head toward the door.
“Detectives. The recording,” Ben said.
Mickey reached over and turned it off.
The two detectives walked into the hall and Ben resumed his place leaning against the table. He put his hands on Lane’s shoulders and began rubbing.
“You’re doing fine. How’s your head? Since you’re only here for questioning, I can stop it if your headache’s back.”
“I’m okay.” Lane said as she rolled her head from side to side. The shoulder rub felt good and would help to stave off the tension headache. “I want to get this over with.”
“What the hell was that about, McGuire? You did an illegal search and seizure?” The veins on Lt. Franklin’s temple bulged.
“Come on, Lieutenant. I was invited there. I had permission to look under the bed. I found the weapon. No need for a warrant.”
“Lieutenant, I have to agree with McGuire on this. He didn’t need a warrant. The suspect obviously invited him in and gave him permission to look under the bed. This was no illegal search.”
The ADA turned to Mick. “But, I do have to ask if you have a personal relationship with this woman.”
Mick ran his hand through his hair. They knew he played round ball with the counselor. Since most of Ben’s clients lived on the Missouri side of State Line, this was the first time they’d ever had a professional encounter. She was just a friend of Ben’s. Yeah, like Angelina Jolie is just a friend of Brad Pitt’s, he thought.
“No. I drove her home Tuesday because she had a debilitating headache. Hell, she’s had a headache since the minute I met her. It’s all semantics. I found the weapon. She gave me the bag.”
Franklin smiled. “She’s the one who lost her lunch all over you Saturday.”
“Yeah, she’s the one.”
“I think I’d let her do just about anything she wanted to me,” Franklin said as he put on his game face and opened the door.
The detectives re-entered the room. Everyone assumed his or her positions.
McGuire looked at Ben and nodded toward the tape recorder. Ben nodded and Mickey turned it back on once again stating the date and time.
“Did you provide for me the plastic bag into which I put the item?” Ben squeezed her hand.
“Yes.”
Mickey held up a plastic bag. “Is this the object?”
Ben squeezed, Lane answered, “It looks like the object you found.”
“Had you ever seen this item before today?”
Ben squeezed Lane’s hand. “I don’t think so.”
Mick threw the bag on to the table. “Would you like to take a closer look, Ms. Parker?”
Lane leaned toward Ben. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it, but I’ve read about this kind of thing. I say no, and the next thing I know, he produces a receipt that shows I purchased it five years ago.”
Ben smiled. Lane was a smart woman who knew how important it was to protect herself. Ben paused for a moment and wondered what Mickey’s tactic was. They might have wanted her to pick up the bag and provide them with fingerprints. It didn’t make sense, he knew that as Chief Privacy Officer, she was bonded and had fingerprints on file and readily available to the authorities.
“Pick up the bag, look at it, and just say you don’t recognize it.” Ben said giving her hand a squeeze.
Lane picked up the bag, turned it over in her hand. It was a Philips head screwdriver. It was thin, about six inches long, and had a red plastic handle
“I don’t recognize it.” She said as she placed the bag back on the table.
She rolled her head and started rubbing both temples with tense fingers. Mick looked at Ben. He recognized the signs of Lane’s headache. He’d seen first hand the toll her headaches had taken on her over the last several days, and he didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.
“Ms. Parker, Mr. Bellini, that’s all for now. We’re going to send this to the lab. We’ll be in touch if we have other questions.” Mick reached over and turned off the recorder.
Ben watched the veins in Lt. Franklin’s neck bulge. He knew Mickey had ended the interview because of Lane’s obvious headache symptoms. Lt. Franklin didn’t appear to be too happy, but Ben knew he wouldn’t berate Mickey in front of them. Ben placed his hand in the small of Lane’s back and ushered her out of the room.
He leaned down and whispered to her. “We’ll talk when we get to the car, nothing until then. Okay?”
Lane nodded as they walked.
Then Ben said aloud, “Where are your things?”
“I left my purse at Mick’s desk,” Lane replied
“It’s over here,” Mick said as he walked up behind them. Mick led them to his desk, got Lane’s purse from the bottom drawer and handed it to her. “I assume you can find your way out.”
Ben nodded, and again placed his hand firmly in the small of Lane’s back, and guided her out the front door. Neither of them said a word until they were in the car.
Lane was the first to break the silence. “Okay, what was that about? Don’t tell me Mick thinks that screwdriver is the murder weapon?” She fastened her seat belt and began massaging her temples in earnest.
“I’d say that’s exactly what Mickey is afraid of,” Ben said as he started the car. “Look, Lane, Mickey doesn’t believe you killed that guy any more than I do. But, we’ve got to assume it is the murder weapon and figure out how that thing got into your bedroom.”
He pulled out of the parking lot. “I’ll drive you to the office so you can get your car and I’ll follow you home so we can go to dinner.”
Lane looked at her watch. Seven o’clock. “I don’t think I’m up to a drive to the Plaza, but I am starving. The Hereford House is close by, do you mind?”
Ben always held Lane’s hand in the car, and gave her hand a squeeze. “Of course not, we can go where ever you want.”
Lane smiled and teased. “Are you on the clock? Am I paying you by the hour here?”
“By the hour? Red, by the hour you can’t afford me.”
“Yeah, right, Counselor. I know you’re good, but so good that I can’t afford you? Just how much does a lawyer for ‘the family’ get an hour anyway?”
Kansas City was a mob town and Ben was a first or second generation Italian American depending on whether you were looking at his mother’s side of the family or his father’s. Both sides of his family came from a little island called Sicily. He’d heard rumors about his family being connected his whole life, but it wasn’t as if he grew up living scenes from the Godfather or The Sopranos. Sure, his father owned an Italian restaurant frequented by other Italian families, but he had no reason to believe his father was “mobbed up.”
Lane’s reference made Ben laugh. “A lawyer for ‘the family’ probably wouldn’t even talk to you, Red. But don’t worry; I’ll take good care of you.” He reached over and stroked her hair.
“Okay, counselor, whatever you say. Just park the car,” Lane said playfully pushing Ben’s hand away. “Use the underground lot,” she said as she reached in her purse, pulled out her ID, and handed it to Ben.
Ben pulled into the underground Telco Unlimited lot and parked next to Lane’s BMW.
“I need go to my office so I can get my briefcase and laptop. Come up with me?”
Ben turned off the engine and patted her hand.
“You know, sometimes, you can be so patronizing,” Lane said laughingly.
“I know you’ve had a rough couple of days, Red. I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Ben said as he ran his hand down her cheek, cupped her chin, and turned her head to face him.
“No matter what you need, no matter what time of day or night. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” He kissed her.
“I am glad you’re around.” Lane almost purred into his ear. Then she kissed him again as she thought this man does know how to kiss.
“We’d better go,” Lane said when she finally came up for air.
This time, Ben laughed. “Whatever you want, Red.”
The banter was a good sign, yet he knew she had a headache brewing and he hated feeling helpless over the stress she was going through. Ben was an excellent criminal defense attorney yet, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to prove to her just how good he really was.
Ben had never lost a case. Perhaps it was because he screened his clients carefully, and despite his family’s alleged mob connections, he’d never defended a client he knew to be guilty. He knew Lane was innocent and he knew she was aware of his record in the courtroom. He was also sure that knowledge of his legal prowess was doing little to ease her mind. Ben followed Lane into the building and into the elevator. They rode to the fifth floor in silence. He watched as Lane closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the elevator wall. It was a sure sign that her headache, although not yet in full force, was back.
“Oh, Kyle, excuse us. It’s late and I didn’t expect to see anyone,” Lane said as the elevator doors opened and they nearly walked right into the night guard.
“Sorry, Mrs. Parker, just making my rounds,” Kyle responded as he stepped aside so Ben and Lane could exit the elevator.
The guard said, “Have a good night,” as the elevator doors closed.
“The guards carry guns here,” Ben asked as they walked toward Lane’s office.
“The night guards do,” Lane replied, almost absent mindedly, as she unlocked and opened the door to her office.
Meg, the epitome of efficiency had packed Lane’s briefcase and laptop before she closed and locked the door to Lane’s office and conference room. She had left a note on top of the briefcase. Ben picked up the laptop as Lane read the note.
“You have a 9:00 a.m. with Mr. Edwards. Craig’s moved his meeting again. Check your iPhone for the update to your calendar. Hope you had a good afternoon.”
“I’ve got a nine o’clock with the CEO.” Lane said as she rubbed her temples.
Ben followed Lane home and waited while she dropped her car off. Lane hopped into the Jag.
“Let’s go. I‘m starving. Besides, I can hear Duke calling me.”
“You’re in rare form tonight, Red. Are you worried about your meeting with Al in the morning?”
Lane reached over, rubbed her hand gently on the back of Ben’s head, and stroked his neck. “It’s not that. You know that Al and I have regularly scheduled meetings. He has these meetings with all of his people once a month. It’s his way of keeping in the loop. You know.”
Ben parked the car and they walked into the bar at The Hereford House. The bartender nodded to them. “Hey, long time no see. The usual?”
Lane leaned across the bar and hugged the bartender. “Duke, it’s always good to see you.” She nodded. “Yes and a menu,” she said as she sat in one of the booths.
Ben waited at the bar while Duke mixed the drinks. He shook his head as he placed a drink in front of Lane. “Royal Captain Jack, neat, diet back. I don’t know how you can drink it though,” Ben said as he sat the concoction – equal parts Crown Royal, Captain Morgan, and Jack Daniels neat, meaning no ice, no garnish, and a Diet Coke in front of her.
Lane smiled. It was something Duke had invented one night as the result of discussions about Lane’s usual Jack Daniels and Diet Coke. Someone else was having a Captain and Diet Coke. Lane had tasted it and nearly choked. Duke had combined the Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels and added the Crown Royal. He’d given it to Lane to taste, and to her amazement, it was incredibly smooth. It had become her drink of choice here at Hereford House.
Lane arched her left eyebrow slightly as she raised her glass in a salute and said, “It separates the kids from the grown-ups. Maybe you should give it a try.” Then she took a healthy sip.
A crack about his age, she was feeling feisty. “I think I’ll stick with my Dewar’s,” Ben said mirroring Lane’s salute.
“Suit yourself, counselor, but there’s nothing quite like a little sour mash whiskey to clear the cob webs after a tense afternoon.” Lane downed the rest of the smooth brown liquid and raised the empty glass and waived it in Duke’s direction.
So much for relieving her tension, it appeared that the Royal Captain Jack would do that for tonight.
They ordered steak, baked potatoes, and salads.
Lane had another drink.
“You know counselor, couldn’t it be considered a conflict of interest fraternizing this way with a client.” Lane leaned across the table moving into as close to a prone position as she could get while being held upright by the table and she started stroking Ben’s hand.
“I suppose it could be my loop hole though. If we go to court and your winning streak ends. Couldn’t a new attorney claim that you and I were sleeping together and get a mistrial declared or something?” Lane laid her head on her right arm, which was stretched out across the table.
“That’s it. Consider yourself officially cut off for the night.” Ben reached over and moved her drink away. Sleeping together, he thought, I wish.
“Duke, see if it’s too late to cancel our order. If it is too late to cancel, tell the kitchen to put it in a box.”
Duke sent word to the kitchen and a waiter returned with a bag. Duke brought the check. Ben signed it.
“Thanks, Duke.”
“No problem, Ben. Looks like you’d better get her home.”
Ben sat in the booth next to Lane. “Can you walk?”
“What do you mean, can I walk. I’m fine. Perfectly fine,” Lane slurred indignantly as she poked Ben’s chest with her index finger. Ben slid out of the booth and helped Lane stand up. She stood for about three seconds before she started to sway. Ben caught her as she started to swoon.
“You know, I don’t feel so good,” She said as she closed her eyes.
Ben put his arm around her, picked the bag up with the other hand and slowly maneuvered her out through the door.
She leaned her head against his chest. “You’re so good to me, Ben. Why are you so good to me?”
He unlocked the car and poured her into the front seat fastening her seatbelt securely before he closed the door. “Because I love you, Red. Because I love you,” he said as he walked around the car. He got in and started the engine.
“It’s a good thing that you live close,” Ben mumbled to himself. Lane had fallen asleep.
He parked in the drive, got out, and tapped in the code to open the garage before walking back to the car. He bent down, picked her up, and carried her to her bed. He began undressing her. She stirred and pulled him close to her. She kissed him, purred his name, and was fast asleep again. Ben got her down to her underwear and pulled the covers over her. Again, she stirred, pulled him close, and kissed him. He freed her hair from the braid she’d put it in that morning.
“Don’t go.” She said as she patted the bed next to her.
“You’re not going to remember any of this in the morning.”
“Remember what,” she moaned as she moved toward the middle of the bed. “Don’t leave me,” she said as she tugged on his hand.
“All right, let me get my clothes off,” he sighed as he reached for the light switch next to the bed. He undressed down to his boxers and slid into bed next to her. She curled next to him and put her head on his shoulder. She was moaning and running her fingers through his chest hair. That moaning alone was going to be the death of him.
“God help me,” he mumbled. Ben couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about being in bed with Lane. Kissing her, making love to her as she screamed his name completely overcome with orgasmic pleasure. He stroked her cheek, leaned over, and kissed the top of her head. They’d been together as a couple for two months, and while no one before would have ever called Ben a slow mover, he didn’t want to rush things and was letting Lane set the pace for their sexual relationship. Besides, there were rules, and having sex with a woman who was too drunk to remember it was a definite violation. But, God, that moaning. It was her moaning while she slept that had sent him over the edge two months ago.
“Red, you need to go to sleep now.”
She continued moaning, and had begun kissing his chest, slowly working her way to his shoulder and neck as she rhythmically rubbed her pelvis against his leg. When the day finally came for Ben to make love to her, he sure as hell wanted her to be sober, in full and complete control of her faculties and not only able to enjoy it but to remember it.
He ran his fingers through her hair. “Lane, honey, you really need to stop and go to sleep now. Okay?”
“Mmmm, okay, if that’s what you want,” she moaned as she passed out.
“Thank-you, Lord,” he said as he threw the covers off. He got up and walked to the bathroom, opened the shower doors, and turned on the water. He needed a cold shower.
She had told him once that she had a tendency to get what she called friendly when she was drunk. This was the first time he’d seen it. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her drunk in the three years he’d known her. He’d only seen her imbibe too much once. That was last summer at his house. She’d had a little too much sun, a margarita that was a little too heavy on the tequila and not enough to eat. She had told him she really didn’t drink tequila, but he’d gotten her to have a margarita with the chips and salsa anyway. The tequila had snuck up on her. He’d made her sleep in one of his guest rooms.
He stood under the cold spray and debated whether he should stay or go home. On the one hand, he was reasonably certain she wasn’t going to remember any of this in the morning. On the other hand, she might remember that he’d been there and he really didn’t want her to wake up in the morning and wonder what had happened to him. Besides that, he would really like to get a BC into her. He was sure she’d thank him in the morning.
He finished his shower and went back into the bedroom. Lane was curled up on the left side of the bed. He decided not to wake her, and positioned his six foot four inch frame on the chaise lounge near the fireplace. Lord help him. The last time he looked at the clock it was 3:00 a.m.
