Morton Cheswick washed his hands in the men’s room, and then re-entered the interrogation room where Brian Riley sat staring, with a queasy look on his face, at the hamburger that had been delivered to him by a uniformed officer.
Morton sat down beside his client, carefully shifting his open briefcase away from the food, so that the greasy onions which had dripped on the waxed paper holding Brian’s meal did not stain the calfskin.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Morton asked.
‘Not really,’ said Brian. He wrapped up the sandwich and stuffed the waxed paper bundle back into the brown delivery bag.
Morton nodded. ‘I think we’re almost through here.’
‘I hope so,’ said Brian dully.
Morton closed his briefcase and folded his arms over it protectively. ‘Well, the fact is that any steps the chief might have taken to shield you were the results of a unilateral decision. There’s no evidence to suggest that you needed protecting.’
‘I still don’t know why he did that,’ Brian said. ‘I mean, I did call him after that business with Dena, but they seemed to think there was a lot more to it than that.’
‘They’re not telling us everything,’ said Morton Cheswick. ‘That much is obvious. At any rate, you are not responsible for the chief’s actions. They know we’re unshakable on that score. Of course, we’re hurt by this longstanding animosity between you and Mrs Hubbell. But, the rest of their case is flimsy. Not much in the way of hard evidence. Circumstantial.’
‘So, you don’t think they’re going to arrest me?’ Brian asked hopefully.
‘Well, if they do, I doubt they’re going to be able to convict you.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ said Brian.
Morton, who had defended many a client in the criminal justice system, did not place a lot of weight on the profession of innocence, since he’d never had a client who professed anything else, at first. Still, he knew a weak case when he saw one. ‘It would be helpful if you could account for where you were at the time.’
‘I told you, I was at the barn, working. Alone.’
‘As I say, I don’t know that they have enough to hold you, right now.’ Brian rubbed his palms together nervously. Then he turned back to Morton.
‘You’re a lawyer. Let me ask you something,’
‘Of course,’ said Morton calmly.
‘What kind of rights do I have to a child if I’m not married to its mother?’
Morton frowned. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I saw this show on TV and it got me thinking. Doesn’t she have to let me be with the kid? I mean, she just can’t take the kid and go …’
Morton felt a little jarred by this non sequitur, from a man who was trying to face down a murder charge. ‘No, she can’t,’ said Morton, ‘although this might be something you want to think about when your other problems are resolved …’
‘I need to know this right now,’ he insisted. ‘What are my rights here? What does she have to give me?’
Morton shook his head, and drummed on the briefcase with the fingers of one hand. ‘I assume you’re referring to the woman you … allegedly battered,’ he said.
Brian flexed his fists and then gripped the back of a chair. ‘It was … accidental,’ he said. ‘I never meant to hurt her.’
Morton nodded. He’d heard that one before. ‘Well, this is an area of the law that’s in transition right now. The law hasn’t been able to keep up with the changes in our society, and thus is constantly being challenged. You do have rights. But I think we can assume, given the hostility of your current relationship with this woman, that you will be facing a court battle for every inch of ground. Your history here is not going to help.’
‘But she can’t shut me out of her life.’
‘Of her life? Yes, she can. Of the child’s life, no, within limits.’
Brian nodded. ‘Good.’
The door to the interrogation room opened and a patrolman stuck his head in. ‘Mr Cheswick. Somebody here to see you.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Morton. Brian sat back down and cupped his hands together, tapping them thoughtfully against his upper lip. He did not seem to notice that the lawyer was leaving. Morton Cheswick stood up, shooting his cuffs, and shaking out the creases in his pants. Then he stepped out into the hall. A good-looking businesswoman in a gray suit and pumps was standing there, nervously fiddling with her purse straps. Beside her stood a teenaged girl, tall and thin, with shiny hair pulled back, and braces on her teeth. Her face was pale and she looked terrified to be in the police station.
‘This is Mr Cheswick,’ the patrolman said to the older woman.
She stuck out her hand. ‘Mr Cheswick. My name is Pamela Pittinger, and this is my daughter, Vanessa.’
‘How do you do?’ said Morton gravely.
‘You’re representing Mr Riley?’
‘Yes.’
The woman put her manicured hands on the girl’s narrow shoulders. ‘Vanessa has something to tell you which may be important for your client.’
Morton raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, let’s find a quiet place where we can sit and talk.’
Dena got out of her car and watched as Peter loaded a couple of boxes into his trunk and slammed the lid. She sighed and walked over to him.
‘All ready to go?’ she asked.
‘Well, not quite. The girls still have a few things to load up.’
‘Tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Tory’s insisting on going to school cause they’re having some kind of party. So, we’ll leave after school.’
Dena nodded. Then she looked toward the house. ‘Is Hilary here?’
‘No, actually. They’re at Hilary’s house tonight. Since their toys are packed and all, I told them they could go to Hilary’s. They watch TV there,’ he said.
‘Ahh,’ said Dena, bemused.
‘Well, sometimes you can’t avoid it.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to go up and take a bath.’ She hesitated, then decided to tell him. ‘Sergeant Watkins came by the restaurant tonight.’
‘Oh?’
‘Since you don’t have a TV, you probably don’t know this. Brian’s being questioned about my friend Jennifer’s murder.’
‘Brian,’ he said.
‘Yeah. Sergeant Watkins thinks they’re going to arrest him.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Peter. ‘Well, great news.’
She reddened, a little put off by his reaction. ‘It’s not what I would have wished for,’ she said.
‘Why not? I’m relieved. He can’t bother you if he’s in jail.’
‘I suppose,’ she said ruefully. ‘Where are you off to?’
‘I’ve still got twenty errands to do before we go.’
‘Well, maybe we can have a … glass of juice together, or something. Toast your departure.’
‘Maybe later,’ he agreed.
‘I think I’ll go take that bath,’ said Dena. ‘I’ve finally gotten that bathtub clean enough to soak in it.’
Peter got into his car with a wave. ‘Light some candles,’ he said. ‘Think pleasant thoughts for the baby’s sake.’
Dena nodded and trudged up to the house. She still could hardly believe that Brian was now the prime suspect in Jennifer’s murder. Every time she thought about all the things she hadn’t known about him, she felt dazed. Wearily, she unlocked the door and entered the little foyer. She stopped to look at the mail on the table. It was the usual couple of circulars. She didn’t know why she looked. So few people even knew she was here.
She started up the stairs, rummaging in her purse for her keys. Just as she reached her door and inserted the key in the lock, the doorbell rang and made her jump. It probably isn’t for me, she thought. She was tempted to ignore it. But, after a moment’s hesitation, she walked back down the stairs, and went over to the door, first putting on the chain.
A plump, middle-aged woman with graying curly hair stood on the doorstep, holding a black-and-white checkered wool coat together at the neck with her left hand. She gave Dena a nervous smile. ‘Is Peter here?’ she asked.
Dena undid the chain and opened the door. She shook her head. ‘No, he’s out.’
‘He wasn’t at the restaurant,’ the woman in the checkered coat said.
‘No,’ said Dena, realizing this had to be a friend, someone who knew about his job. ‘He had a lot of errands to do. I don’t know when he’ll be back.’
‘Well, um, OK. Are the girls asleep?’
‘Oh, no. They’re at the baby-sitter’s.’
‘Oh, I thought you might be … no, never mind. OK,’ said the woman. She was squinting into the distance, obviously thinking about what to do next.
‘Shall I tell him you were here, or to call you?’ Dena asked politely.
‘No,’ said the woman slowly. ‘No, that’s all right.’
‘Who shall I say was here?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Don’t say anything. I want to … surprise him.’
‘OK,’ said Dena. ‘No phone number or anything?’
The woman smiled briefly. ‘No. I’ll come by tomorrow.’
‘Better make it early,’ said Dena.
The smile faded from the woman’s face. ‘Why?’
All of a sudden, Dena thought she shouldn’t be telling Peter’s plans to anyone who knocked at the door. It wasn’t her place. ‘It’s just easiest to catch him then.’
The woman looked at her quizzically. ‘OK, well, thank you. Good night.’ She turned and headed for her car, a little purple Geo that was parked in front of Dena’s Camry. Wielding her keys, she went around and let herself in to the driver’s side.
Dena gave a half-hearted wave and looked back up the stairs, as if it were a mountain to climb. Time for that bath, she thought.
Brian reached out and hugged Vanessa as hard as he could and Vanessa wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring the moment she had dreamed of for so long. The stubble on his face, the rough cloth of his jacket collar against her soft skin made her want to rub against him until her own cheeks were raw. His shoulders were trembling and she thought he might be weeping. Blood pounded in her ears, like the sound of the ocean, and she was transported. She closed her eyes and, for that brief moment, she floated in some paradise better than any she had ever imagined. It was over in an instant, but it made everything worthwhile, and, at the same moment, filled her with despair.
‘Thank you, Vanessa,’ he whispered.
She smiled, keeping her lips closed so that he couldn’t see her braces, and nodded, her eyes searching his for a sign. All she could see was weariness and distraction.
Morton Cheswick shook Pam’s hand and then reached for Vanessa’s. She shook it, scarcely able to take her gaze from Brian’s face. ‘That was a very commendable thing you did, Vanessa. Coming forward with that information.’
‘I was glad I could help,’ she said, looking down.
‘Indeed,’ said Morton, pulling on his topcoat.
Tyrell watched their parting in the hallway in amazement.
‘Sergeant Watkins,’ Van Brunt commanded. ‘In here.’
Shaking his head, Tyrell followed the captain into his office.
‘Close the door,’ Van Brunt barked.
Tyrell shoved the door and it slammed.
Van Brunt’s eyes were white around the pupils. ‘Sergeant,’ he barked.
‘Sorry, Captain. I’m just frustrated to see him walk out of here.’
‘You’re frustrated? You’re the one who made it possible.’
‘Me? How is this my fault?’ Tyrell demanded. ‘He has an alibi.’
‘She’s lying,’ said captain disgustedly. ‘Any fool can see she’s lying.’
‘Hey, I don’t like it any more than you do. But the kid said she saw him there. She’ll swear to it.’
‘She’ll swear to anything for that dirtbag’s sake. The lawyer knew it. I could see it in his face. She has the hots for Riley and she was just making it up as she went along, hoping he might give her a roll in the hayloft in gratitude.’
‘She’s a child, Captain. Just a kid trying to do the right thing …’
‘Your judgment, Sergeant, as we already know, cannot be relied on.’
‘Captain, I know you hate to lose your prime suspect, but I don’t see how you can blame me because the kid came forward and gave him an alibi.’
‘I’ll tell you how it’s your fault, shall I? You and that old man in the hospital. You two bungled this investigation from the very beginning. Now, I’m in charge and have to deal with your mess. Lou Potter thinks you can run the police department like a clubhouse, and you, you don’t even have the qualifications for your job. The chief completely ignored the code requirements when he gave you your rank. In the old days, you would have been called his fair-haired boy, although in this case it doesn’t really apply, does it?’
‘He’s had no reason to regret his decision, Captain,’ Tyrell said stiffly.
‘Well, fortunately, it’s no longer up to him.’
‘What are you talking about? You’re just fillin’ in,’ Tyrell blurted out.
Van Brunt could hardly keep the satisfaction out of his voice. ‘Oh, come now, Sergeant. You can’t seriously believe he’ll be back. Not after the way he abused the power of his office. Apparently the city council had a vote on it today. As soon as he’s off the respirator, he will be offered either prosecution or an early retirement. Effective immediately. Which do you think he will choose?’
Tyrell did not reply. For a moment Tyrell felt betrayed by Lou. How could he just give up like that? Not try to fight. It was like admitting to whatever they wanted to say about him. But what did he expect? Lou would be lucky to recover from this heart attack. The stress of defending himself would probably kill him. ‘Retirement, I imagine,’ said Tyrell grimly.
‘Yeah, well, you better believe it, Sergeant. And your free ride is about to end.’
Free ride, Tyrell thought, outraged. My free ride. He had worked as hard as he could these last two years to prove himself worthy of Lou’s confidence in him. Years of military discipline warred, inside Tyrell, with the urge to say what he wanted to say. He knew he had to keep a lid on it, before he threw everything away. But what was the use of buckling under? It was one thing to try and win a man’s respect. This man didn’t know the meaning of the word. He told himself that if he spoke out now, that would be the end of it. He thought of his grandmother, and how disappointed she would be. And Cletus, who would smirk.
Van Brunt tugged at the hem of his coat and then adjusted the university ring on his finger. ‘In fact, Sergeant, in light of your part in all this, I have decided to suspend you …’
‘Suspend me! For what?’ Tyrell blurted out.
‘Read the manual, Sergeant. Failure to comply with General Order 43 of the Monroe Township Code – Domestic Violence Policy and Procedure. If you and the chief hadn’t covered up for that Riley boy in the first place, this whole situation wouldn’t have gotten so screwed up. Do you think these domestic violence complaints are a joke, Sergeant? Something for you boys to laugh about in the locker room?’
Tyrell despised being lectured by Heath Van Brunt, a man who had just implied that a skinny teenage girl with braces was a slut. A man who had baldly stated that any husband had more than enough reason to want to kill his wife. Hypocrite, Tyrell thought. Bigot. But, at the same time, a part of him could not react with too much righteous indignation. He had gone along with the chief, and let Riley walk out after he hit Dena Russell. He hadn’t liked seeing a pregnant woman with a bloody face, but he hadn’t insisted that Riley be held accountable either. In fact, when the chief made apologies for him, Tyrell had agreed. Not just gone along with the decision. Endorsed it. Maybe he’d seen too much of the underbelly of human nature in this job. Admit it, he thought. At least to yourself. It was a crime, and you let it slide. Tyrell wanted to call Van Brunt an asshole and storm out, but a sliver of self-doubt wouldn’t let him do it.
Van Brunt was droning on. ‘I’m going to run this place, and I’m going to run it by the books. And I’m going to start by making an example of you. You are hereby suspended without pay for thirty days.’
Tyrell hesitated. Then, he unhooked his badge and threw it on the desk. He walked out without a word and shut the door quietly behind him.