When We Were Married Ch. 05D

"It's just you, Clint. No one night stands, no pulling some young stud lawyer's pants down and sucking him off, no zipless fucks. Just you. You believe me?"

"If you say so, Deb, I believe you. We're not married. You've got no reason to lie."

"I think...the gossip is...he's probably had other women. I'm not surprised. Since he started getting into shape, got that new look, I knew he'd find somebody. But why her?"

"What is so special about this Aline?"

"Because," and she took a deep breath to avoid screaming, "because she's beautiful and French and she's a fucking bone and standing next to her I felt like a 400 pound hippo. She doesn't have any tits, but what she's got looks good. Shit, I felt fat, and old next to her. And she LOOKS at me like I'm fat and old."

She turned to look at him.

"Women don't look at me that way, Clint. They're jealous, they're contemptuous because they think I'm a slut and a threat to steal their husbands or boyfriends, but not like....I didn't....I didn't....threaten her. She thought she was hotter than I am...and the bitch rubbed it in that she had Bill now.

"She walked out in front of my whole familly, my parents, our children flat naked, rubbing her pussy. The only way she could have made it more obvious is if she'd thrown Bill down and started fucking him."

Clint shook his head.

"She walked out in front of your whole family naked?"

"Long story. They pretended it was an accident. But I know the bitch planned it. Not a fucking ounce of fat on her. Every guy in the room got hardons, I know it. And what could I say? Everybody knows about me and Doug. I had to swallow any comment I could have made about her being a cheating fucking slut tramp."

"Okay, I can see that would be...traumatic. But, still, you knew he was going to find somebody. He found a beautiful woman. He did it before. What's so different about this?"

She leaned into him and nestled her head against his neck and shoulder. He couldn't' see her eyes.

"I....this sounds crazy....I know it does. But....it was the WAY he looked at her."

"How?"

"I know that look, Clint. It was the way he looked at me. Even....even after things blew up, when he was hurting, I knew when he looked at me he still loved me. He was looking at her that way. And it drove me crazy."

He felt moisture on his neck and realized she was crying.

"What kind of terrible fucking monster am I? I didn't love him and I went to another man and I enjoyed the fact that the man I'd thrown away was still hung up on me and now when I can see that he cares for somebody else, it's killing me."

He held her until the tears stopped and then pushed her away. He wiped the tears away.

"You're a human being, Deb. You're a gorgeous, big breasted walking wet dream, but you're still just a human being. You did what you thought was right at the time. And now you're having second thoughts."

"No-"

"Yes, you're having second thoughts. I don't mean you're going to go back to him, but I told you before I thought you moved too fast.

"You took up with another man before you straightened things out with Bill. You probably, in a perfect world, should have filed for divorce or got a separation, maybe went in for counseling. That way if it fell apart you could have had Doug or anybody else you wanted.

"And now....you've got issues. And it might be too late to do anything about them."

"Might be? MIGHT BE? Christ, no way will we get back together. I -- there are things I'm trying to get straight in my head, but he still makes me see red sometimes. And -- he would never be interested in me again. Don't ask. He just never will be. And anyway...how long did it take you to get over your cheating wife?"

She sat back and looked into his eyes and saw the answer to her question.

"Oh yeah, she died 20 years ago and you never re-married. Have you even been serious about another woman? Talk about being hung up on somebody."

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SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2005 5 p.m.

We stopped at The Columbia on A1A south of St. Augustine. I've always loved their paella and found out that Aline loved it as well.

"I was raised in a little town near Marseilles," she told me. "Just the smell of paella de marisco gets my mouth watering."

"They serve a good seafood paella here. And I love their Sangria. I'll order a pitcher of the real stuff and a couple of glasses of virgin for me because I can't afford any tickets for drunk driving."

She leaned into me and said, "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Why? You're going to get lucky whether I'm drunk or sober."

"I love easy women."

"Don't get me started sailor, or I'll turn us around and take advantage of you in your car in this parking lot, Unless you can find a spot on the Beach."

I looked at her. She was dressed in a blue skirt and a gold v-necked top that showed the curves of her breasts but not much more. She was slender and casual and I wondered for the thousandth time how in the hell I'd wound up with her. It was only luck and chance that led me to Debbie's bed, and again it was only the wildest coincidence that led Aline to me.

I don't know if somebody up there likes me, or hates me with a passion.

We ate two plates of paella and it was as good as I remembered it. It had been a couple of years since I'd been here. As usual, Debbie had insisted on the paella with chicken and pork. For an intelligent woman, she was as traditional in her tastes and unwilling to experiment as any Southern mom whose tastes were limited to pork, chicken and mashed potatoes.

Or maybe our differing culinary tastes were just another indication of the chasm that had been growing between us that finally led to our divorce.

Aline polished off at least a half a pitcher of hard Sangria and was laughing and clinging to me as we walked out the door. It was nearly 9:30 p.m. and I figured we'd just head back to the condo and try to find at least one room we hadn't already christened. We'd done the bathroom, the tiny living room, the kitchen/dining room. Come to think of it, there wasn't anyplace else to christen.

As we walked across the small parking lot to where my Escalade was parked, her cell phone began to trill the "Marseillaise", the French national anthem. We both stopped and looked at it at the same time. I didn't have to look at the number. She hadn't received a call since she'd gotten to Jacksonville. I didn't know of anyone, other than the obvious suspect, who would be calling her.

She gave me a look and punched the button to answer the call. At least she didn't turn away from me to talk to him.

There was a rapid stream of French that I could barely follow. All I knew was she had said "hello" in French. Philippe of course sounded the same in any language. There were questions and she responded in rapid French. There was a smile that broke my heart and more French. Then a pregnant pause and "Jacksonville" and "Bill Maitland."

The conversation proceeded for a little while and then she handed me the phone.

As she did so she mouthed the words, "He knows." I didn't know how much he knew, so I assumed he simply knew that Aline was vacationing in Jacksonville and I was showing her around. It had been stupid to assume he didn't keep some kind of eye on where and what his wife did. That was the way I'd play it.

"Hello, my friend."

"Hello, Philippe. How have you been?"

"You know how it goes," he said in almost perfectly unaccented English. "Evil never rests. Of course, the Angel of Death must be aware of the depths to which men can sink."

"I'm famous over there?"

He laughed, that deep rich chuckle that reminded me of the nights we had gone drinking and he had flirted with three or four women, at least a couple of whom I had no doubt he'd be fucking after he left me.

"You're famous everywhere, Bill. With the Internet, anything is possible. I've read of the 'Killer Granny' case. That was a bold stroke on your part. I would have bet against your winning. But, I thought when you were here with us that you are a man it's not safe to bet against."

"It's all PR Philippe. Just a matter of luck and timing. I'm the same guy I was when I was a grunt prosecutor hitting the dives with you and your Gendarme friends."

He laughed again.

"We had some good times. I am sorry our paths never crossed again."

"So am I, Philippe. I appreciated your sending me the followup. It took you a solid year, but you did nail those bastards. Too bad that the head man chose to shoot it out rather than face trial."

"It was actually rather fortunate. You and I both know it would have been hard to get a conviction. There were too many layers between him and the slavers. He saved the state a great amount by taking a bullet to the brain rather than wasting the time of many good men and women."

I had no doubt then and I had no doubt now that the rich man who profited off the sale and use of Muslim teenage girls hadn't put a bullet into his brain voluntarily. Philippe had never admitted in his file which he'd emailed me that he had had the man murdered, but he made it clear when you read between the lines.

And I knew from hints that cops and thugs both dropped in Parisian dives that, like me, Philippe was owed favors by some of the worst of the worst, and I had the feeling that he had called in at least some of those favors over the years.

"When Aline decided to wait until I brought Andre back to Paris, I had assumed she would stay with the Bonne Chance or stay in Miami," he continued in a friendly voice. "But friends told me she had left the ship. Imagine my surprise when I learned she was staying in Jacksonville, the stomping grounds of my old American friend."

I didn't say anything.

"I haven't been keeping up on your activities,, but when I learned that Aline was in Jacksonville I thought of you and made some calls. I learned of your -- troubles. I was very sorry to hear about the end of your marriage. I remember the photo you showed me of your Debbie. A very beautiful woman."

I didn't say anything.

"I know that you loved her very much. It was evident in every conversation we had about your life in America. You remember that second night we went to that bar near the Seine? Lilly, the bartender, was taken with you. She was always strange for Americans. Must be the accent. She practically threw herself under you, but you never took the bait."

He laughed that laugh again.

"She was very upset with you when I talked to her later that morning. You hurt her feelings. I explained to her that you loved your wife and Americans take a different view of recreational sex than we French. You have a -- stricter -- view than most French."

"I was in a bad place when I met Aline, Philippe. If she didn't tell you, I was close to being suicidal. Debbie tore my heart and my balls out when she left me. My time on the Bonne Chance and Aline's friendship helped me take my life back. I can never express my gratitude to her. You are a luckier man than you know to have her in your life."

"I know I am, my friend. It never hurts to be reminded though. A married man sometimes forgets what he has, until he sees it through someone else's eyes. She is very fond of you, you know."

"I hope so."

"No, truly. When I asked her just now, she told me of how you had met on the Bonne Chance and that you had volunteered to show her around your city. She said you have been very gracious with your time, taking her to restaurants and seeing that she has not been bored. I would have expected no less of you, my friend, but I am grateful."

"It's been my pleasure, Philippe. I can honestly say I've enjoyed every minute I've spent with her. And since my divorce, I have the time to show her my home town."

"You have my thanks, Bill. When you're separated as much as we are by our professions, you can worry. It can be hard to keep a marriage alive. When she is with you, I can rest assured that she is safe. And that you would not do anything to jeopardize our friendship because you are not that kind of man."

"You know I consider you a friend, Philippe. And I would treat your marriage with the same honor and fidelity that I know you have shown it."

This time there was a long silence on his end of the line. Finally he said, "I am back in Paris now with our son, Bill. I am looking forward to Aline's return. I have missed her, in my life and in my bed.

"I only hope that someday in the near future you can come visit us in Paris. You have never seen the two of us together. I don't know if we have a marriage to equal the one you had with your Debbie, but I would like to show you what our marriage is like, what we are like together."

"I hope you have a better marriage than Debbie and I had, and I hope yours lasts longer than ours."

"Can I speak to Aline again, Bill? I wish you good fortune if we do not speak again."

"And you also, Philippe. Here she is."

I handed the phone back to her

Her face was white in the moonlight as she brought the phone to her ear. I heard the whisper of voices in the darkness and then she said, "Andre..."

Her face was lit with a smile as tears rolled down her face. Finally she said, "Je t'aimerai toujours, Andre."

The tears stopped as she spoke for a little while longer to Philippe and finally, "'Je T'aime. Au revoir."

As she clicked off the hand holding the phone dropped to her side. She looked across A1A toward the sound of the rolling surf and swayed. I stepped in behind her and put my arms around her. I could feel the silent sobs she fought to hold in. I didn't say anything because I didn't know what I could say.

We walked to the car in silence and drove home to my condo without saying a word to each other. In bed she grabbed me hard and burrowed her head into my chest, wetting my chest with her tears. We didn't have sex, merely held each other until her breathing slowed into the natural rhythm of sleep. I stared at the ceiling until dawn.

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TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2005 -- 3 p.m.

I walked into Sheriff Knight's office. Knight was a relatively tall, maybe 6 foot 1, sandy haired 50-ish cop who'd managed to stay trim and fit. He was a good looking guy except for a bad case of acne he must have gotten as a teenager that had left his face pocked.

In his case, it made him more of a regular guy type, which he had used in his campaign to succeed the Old Sheriff as everybody had called the guy who ran the department for 20 years prior. We'd always gotten along and I'd tried to stay on his good side. I didn't think I'd manage to do that today.

He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake my hand.

"Hi, Bill. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy schedule to come have a talk."

I smiled at him and said, "Why do I think there's a little barb stuck in there, Sheriff. Anyway, you know I'm never to busy to talk to the head law enforcement officer in this county."

He laughed and said, "I'd better roll my pants up beause the shit is getting really deep. And here I'd heard you weren't a diplomatic type."

I smiled at him and said, "Not a matter of being diplomatic. You're a very important man in this community. We don't get much done without your active cooperation. I'm always glad to meet with you or anybody in your department. We're both on the same side."

"Most of the time."

"I thought it was all of the time, Sheriff. What do you have in mind?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Bill. Shawn Smith."

"We both have the same objective there. We want to make sure that police officers obey the same laws and are judged by the same standards as any other person involved in an incident in which people lose their lives."

He leaned back against his desk.

"God, sometimes I think you attorneys are some alien breed that was dropped on the earth, because you are definitely not real people. How do you manage to say something that sounds so logical and is full of horseshit at the same time?"

"Not sure I follow you, Sheriff Knight."

"That sounds good, Bill. Police officers should be judged by the same standard as everyone else. Of course you and I know that's a crock of shit. Every cop is judged by a much higher standard than anyone not wearing a badge. My men have to make split second decisions involving life and death and then weeks or months later guys in suits that have never had a gun pointed at them decide if they made the right decision."

"That's why we pay police officers well and give them great retirements and look the other way at a lot of shit they do that would get someone not wearing a badge jail time."

I sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and cross my legs and leaned back.

"Don't try to paint me as a cop hater, Sheriff. You've worked with me since you got into office. I've always backed your guys. You won't find a stronger backer of police than me in my office. Because I know how important your men are. It doesn't matter how good we are at putting away bad guys. Your guys have to catch them first and hopefully save innocent victims from assault or rape or murder at the same time.

"But...."

"Shawn Smith is a good man and an exemplary officer. He hasn't deserved to be hung out to dry all these months. He was allowed to come back to work, but without a clearance those vulture asshole attorneys representing the Roper families and children and trying to get his scalp.

"And everybody he works with knows he could still go down. Other officers are afraid to get too close to him for fear that it will be catching."

"Sheriff, I know he's a good cop. Unfortunately, he's a good cop who lost it and shot a man in the back and planted a gun on him to try to get away with murder. Or at least manslaughter."

Knight just shook his head and walked back behind his desk and stood there looking at me.

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I do."

"Those guys could have picked up that gun from anywhere. It was in the seat of the truck where Artie Roper was headed when Smith shot him. Just because we can't prove that any of the three Ropers bought or got the gun doesn't prove they didn't place it there.

"You know as well as I that there's a river of cheap, untraceable guns flowing through this city, through any American city. The Ropers could have brought the gun."

"And Artie Roper walks with his two brothers armed with only clubs into the house of an armed cop and leaves the gun behind the cab of his truck? I know all three of them were pretty stupid. But you believe anybody is that stupid?"

"Don't ask me how stupid criminals are. I could keep you entertained for hours talking about the stupid crooks I've run into in 20 years in this job. They're not geniuses.

"Anyway, I'll agree that the Ropers weren't homicidal killers. I believe they intended to break into the house while Smith was asleep or groggy, get to him before he could grab a gun and beat the shit out of him. He was a black man sleeping with and stealing a white man's wife.

"I don't think they intended to shoot him in cold blood. But, I think the Ropers must have brought the gun along just in case. And when Smith fought back and started shooting, Artie lost his nerve and was running for the truck.

"Smith followed him out. He had no way of knowing what the Ropers had out there. And I wouldn't expect him, after three men burst into his house in the middle of the night, to just stand there and let Artie get to this truck and maybe start shooting.

"Cops aren't trained to let themselves be used as target practice by criminals. You honestly believe you're in danger, you shoot to kill. That's what I'd do. That old saying is true; better to be tried by 12 than carried to your grave by six."

"I understand where you're coming from, Sheriff. And you might be right. But I might be right. And I owe it to Art Roper and the taxpayers of this city not to sweep this under the rug. I'm going to take Smith and the shooting to the grand jury and let them hear the evidence and let them decide if there's enough to take him to trial. I'm not going to make the decision myself."