When We Were Married Ch. 04C

"Somebody wanted him really, really dead."

"No it's more than that. It's a message killing. Somebody was sending a message to his people, but who was sending it and what was the message?"

"Probably the message was that anybody who threatens a prosecutor is not going to have the cops coming after them to read them their rights, but people who will cut their heads off. It's a different kind of threat."

"That makes sense, but the thing is, there are only three people still alive who know about that threat."

Case's expression was unreadable.

"And you and I both know who was behind this. He's well on his way to South Florida. I couldn't stop him because we couldn't prove anything. He said he was visiting his brother Derrick over in the Panhandle. But how did he know about the threat and have the time to set this up. He's good, but nobody is that good."

Case shrugged again.

"I have no idea."

I looked at the other side of my office, in the direction that Tyrone was driving or flying right now and asked, "You've been out of that world for a while now, but you still know people, right?"

"Everybody knows people, Maitland."

"You served time with some of the same hardcases that shuttle between here and Miami. I'll bet you could still pick up the phone and in a minute get a message to somebody down there, if you wanted to."

He looked at me and I could only sense the smile.

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"Hypothetically, if there was a problem that couldn't be dealt with within the legal system, a man with contacts outside the system could go around the law."

He looked at me guilelessly.

"I'm a bailiff of the court. My best friend is a judge and he's the only reason I'm not on death row or dead right now. You don't think I'd betray everything I believe in to have a shithead like Thompson killed, do you?"

He followed by gaze in the direction that we both knew Anthony was headed.

"And even if I had called him and told him what was going down, you don't think a stone killer like Biggs would put himself in jeopardy to save the family of a man who sent him to prison and kept him away from his mother's funeral, do you?"

"No, I guess not. It's just hard to figure."

"Don't give yourself a headache, Maitland. Some mysteries aren't meant to be solved. I don't think we'll ever know for sure what happened to Deaven."

He walked away and I sat there for awhile while all hell broke loose as the media discovered what had happened, Sheriff Knight and Edwards started trying to do some PR damage control that would keep the media from comparing local law enforcement to the Keystone Kops.

Eventually I got dragged into it and an never-ending round of meetings with Sheriff's Office officials, jail officers, the media, and internal meetings within the State Attorney's Office.

Along the way I found out that, oddly enough, the tapes of Deaven's cell weren't the only ones that had vanished. Trying to backtrack, homicide detectives had looked for the tapes of the meeting I'd had with Deaven, his attorney Smith, and Case. But they had vanished as well. Actually, all the tapes for that meeting room for the last week had gone missing.

Courthouse staff responsible for the monitoring pointed the finger at the private tech firm that maintained the system. The tech firm fired back at the courthouse personnel as technological idiots who had probably inadvertently wiped those tapes out.

Hour blended into hour into hour until I got out of another in an interminable sequence of meetings and realized it was 8 p.m. and I was fed up with meetings. I told the diehards still meeting over one thing or another that I had put in my time, I'd been injured in an accident, I had just gotten back from a cruise and never even had a chance to get my luggage back to my condo. I was going home.

As soon as I walked out of the courthouse and was heading for my Escalade, I remembered my earlier discussions with Doug. I called Debbie's number and got no response. I tried again. I drove back to the condo and called again. In all, I called six times in 45 minutes with no response.

I unpacked my suitcase. As I put the clothes away they seemed like mementos from the distant past. Had it been less than a day since I'd held Aline's naked body next to me? How could so much happen in so little time? But, how had I met and made a connection with a French woman like none other in the past 20 years, in less a week.

I had thought this little piece of anonymous apartment was lonely beyond reason, but now I realized it was like a little piece of hell. It, and I, were transient. There were no memories here, other than bad ones.

I had to get out. If I stayed here I would remember the early days when all I could think about was Debbie's golden body, or the brunette woman I had just walked away from. I really needed to get drunk and kill all the memories.

I almost drove to The Last Call, or O'Brien's, but something made me turn the car in a familiar direction and it almost drove itself there. I stopped down the block. Something wouldn't let me pull in the driveway. It was dark now, at 9:30, and there were no lights in the house that had been mine and Debbie's.

I shouldn't wait for her, I knew. I had spent three and a half months running as hard as I could to get away from her and the hurt she had done to me. I had refused to talk to her because I was afraid I would either physically hurt her, or burst out crying and shame myself.

Could I hurt her? I would have said never, once. But I had prosecuted men who knew they would never touch their wives or girlfriends. Until that one split second they could not bring back when they had struck out and the one they had loved lay dead at their feet.

I should probably wait and call her tomorrow. But somehow I couldn't bring myself to drive away. I had called her home phone and there had been no answer there as well. That with the absence of lights, told me she was out. At her parents? No, because she would have answered her cell there.

So she was out tonight. Maybe it was work related? Maybe it was with one of her female friends. Maybe. It wouldn't be Doug, if he had told me the truth and BJ had heard correctly when she said they were through. Had she already found another man?

So I sat in the darkness after the streetlights came on and it became 10 and then 10:15 p.m. and finally I saw the lights of her Nissan coming down the street followed by a dark blue four-door Saturn. She pulled into our garage while the Saturn stopped in the driveway. She came out, closing the garage behind her.

A dark-haired, slender man stepped out of the Saturn and followed her to the front door. I got out of the Escalade and walked toward what had been my front door. She turned the inner hall light on and I saw her face and that of the man with her in the light it cast.

They were talking and she laughed. I had reached our front yard and started walking toward them. She laughed again, and tilted her head up in a way that I remembered. I wondered if he was planning on kissing her. Had she dumped Doug and that quickly found another man. No grass growing under her feet.

I was walking quietly and she didn't even notice me approaching.

"You're right, Clint. I love Thai. And thank you for keeping me out of this house. I almost hate to say goodnight..."

"Well, don't let me interfere with your plans, Debbie. I'd just like a moment of your time."

She jumped and stared at me as if I was the killer in a teen stalker movie.

"Bill? What in the hell...."

"I fell down some stairs. Got banged up a bit."

The man turned quickly and gave me a searching glance. He was familiar, but I was pretty sure I'd never seen him in the flesh before.

"Bill, I was just...."

He stuck his hand out and by habit I took it.

"Hi, you'd obviously be Bill Maitland. I'm Clint Abbott. I'm a visiting professor at UNF. I'm glad to meet you. Remind me to stay away from those stairs. They did a number on you."

Debbie continued to stare.

"I'm sorry Debbie. I didn't mean to interrupt your date. Could we talk for just a minute? If -- you've got further plans, just call me on my cell. I'll be up late."

"I'm leaving, Mr. Maitland. Debbie - Mrs. Maitland -- Bascomb -- and I just went out for dinner and a few drinks. I need to get home because tomorrow is a work day."

He turned to leave and she placed her hand on his arm.

"Clint, thank you."

As he started to walk by me the mental connection clicked and I said, "Ride On By."

He stared at me and then a grin grew on his face.

"Guilty. Don't tell me you read it?"

"And saw the movie. I thought you looked familiar. You face was all over the back cover."

"He's got a mind like a steel trap, Clint. I should have warned you. I don't think he ever forgets anything."

I couldn't stop myself.

"Even if I wish I could...."

It was cheap and petty but it made me feel better that she looked a little hurt.

"Well, on behalf of myself and my accountant, Mr. Maitland, thank you for your patronage. It's people like you that have let me skip meaningful hard labor for the last 20 years or so."

"It was a good book. I've liked most of your stuff."

"Not all?"

He grinned again.

"Authors are shameless. We want everybody to love everything we write. But thanks. Coming from somebody as famous as you, I'm flattered."

I just gave him a look.

"Oh, yeah, I've read all about The Angel of Death. Actually...."

He stopped and gave me a speculative look.

"Actually, I had my publisher call me already. He asked me if I thought about doing any courtroom action stuff. It's fairly hot now, what with Grisham. And Scott Turow. And Philip Margolin has done some nice stuff. I haven't done any of that, but....I did do a little research on you after I got the call. You're a fairly interesting figure.

"Have you ever thought of having somebody write you up -- nonfiction. Although fiction is more my line. How does, 'The Angel of Death -- Scourge of the Underworld' or something like that sound?"

I grimaced.

"Like a very, very bad 30s pulp novel. Don't lower yourself."

"I don't write the titles. My first choice for 'Ride On By' was 'The Gunfighter and the Lady.' The publisher would come up with something better. But...it was only an idea. If you change your mind and would like to talk, I'll be at UNF for a few months."

"I won't, but thanks anyway. My life is...there's too much going on to even think about that."

Debbie gave both of us a look like we'd started talking football the way guys would do on her time.

"Good night, Clint. Thank for this evening. I'll see you tomorrow."

He grinned at me and then at her as he realized what had happened and said "goodnight," to both of us and walked away.

####################

She watched Clint Abbott walk away and felt like she was in high school, having one boyfriend show up while she was on a date with another. Of course, it wasn't the same. But it felt the same. She was embarrassed, and she had no reason to be. She stared at Bill's face and remembered the last time she'd seen him that beat up.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"Not important. I apologize. I wouldn't have come by except that I couldn't get you on the phone."

"Oh, I forgot. I turned my cell off when I went out with Clint -- Professor Abbott."

"Didn't want to be disturbed on a hot date?"

She felt that anger flare again and tamped it down. Naturally he was angry and jealous. He had the right.

"Clint is just a friend, Bill. He asked me to dinner and for drinks. I just....this house is too damned empty. With Kelly and BJ gone...and..."

"Doug, yeah I know -- that's why-"

"I was going to say with you gone, but yeah, Doug is gone too. You know about that already? You haven't been in town for a day? You're good."

"That's why I wanted to talk to you. BJ called me."

"BJ?"

"He was in the house the morning that -- he heard what was happening between you and Doug and Kelly."

"I had no idea. But whatever he heard...."

"He saw Kelly coming out of your bedroom naked, Debbie, while Doug was in there. It didn't matter what he heard. What the fuck was she doing in your bedroom with Doug -- naked?"

His voice rose. She realized what he must be thinking.

"It's not what you're thinking...or not exactly."

"What the hell does 'not exactly' mean. Debbie, for Christ's sake, we're talking about a 17-year-old girl and a 28-year-old man. You know what that sounds like?"

She leaned back against the front door.

"It's bad, but not bad the way you think. Nothing really happened."

"I'm really, really curious as to what your definition of 'happen' is."

She sighed and then said, "I'll tell you everything, Bill. I've got no reason to lie and I know you too well to think that I could. But...can we do this inside? I don't want to talk about this outside."

"I don't want to go inside."

"Why? It's your house?"

"Correction. It was."

"Just for a few minutes."

He gave her a look that should have frightened her, but she knew him too well.

"Debbie for a smart woman, you can be so stupid. You threw me out of this fucking house. You've been fucking another man in our bed. You probably sat in the den watching television with him. You sat in the kitchen and ate with him and then probably went upstairs and let him fuck you, if you didn't do it in the kitchen. It's not my house anymore."

She tried to find the right words. He was the word man.

"Doug is gone, Bill. I can't take back what happened. But it was your house for the last 10 years and I was your wife for 18 years. Doug came and went. It's still your house, it always will be. And I was your wife and I still am for a few days. No matter what happens, we were married for 18 years and together for 20 years and we have two kids. You said you wanted to talk. Can't you stand being in your house for a few minutes?"

He followed her in and said, "The kitchen. For some reason, I don't feel that bad about the kitchen."

They sat at the table, the way they had so many times before. He looked around as if he were seeing it for the first time and when he stopped at the counter near the refrigerator and looked back at her she knew what he was going to say.

"The snow globe?"

"It got knocked off. It completely shattered. I had to throw it away."

"Like a lot of things, Debbie, including me, right?"

She let it go.

"I'll tell you what happened. Doug spent the night and I had a morning meeting at UNF. We must have had lightning hit the house the night before. It knocked out the alarm and I had to jump up and get out. As far as I knew, Debbie and BJ were spending the night at friends. I realized I'd forgotten a folder and came back.

"I was at our bedroom door when I heard them. Kelly...had come in and...was....giving him oral sex. They had no way of knowing I was outside. Doug pushed her off. He told her to get out. He wasn't acting. I could tell. I came in and Kelly was pretty honest about what she was doing."

She stopped and said, "You want something to drink? We have some of your Goldschläger. There's beer in the fridge..."

"The kind of beer he drinks?"

She shut up. How did he manage to drive the needle in with such precision.

"Just beer."

"No thanks."

"Kelly was definitely after him. She has been for awhile. I read her the riot act, she blew up at me and moved out. She's at Mom and Dad's right now. I told Doug to get his stuff and get out. It was too dangerous to have him around her. She's 17 and hormone driven and he's-"

"Very sexy, right, Debbie. And 'so damned big,' right?"

She spoke as calmly as she could make herself.

"He's very attractive, Bill, especially to be around a 17-year-old who's dreaming of getting herself pregnant and married. Anyway, we were going to be through before long. I told him we...needed to make a break."

"So you say."

She almost stood up and felt that familiar anger begin to rise inside her.

"That's fucking IT, you asshole. I'm trying to honest and you keep taking shots. I never had sex with him, you bastard. Yeah, I was flirting. And I shaved my pussy dreaming about him. And I was going to wind up in his bed. Until you made an ass of yourself and ruined my career and Doug's. But...I never fucked him before that night.

"I just kept getting myself off with my handy vibrator, because you sure as hell weren't getting the job done. And I would eventually have gotten the nerve up to break up with you and then after a respectable period of time I was going to let him fuck my brains out."

He looked like he was going to get up but he remained seated.

"It was never serious, Bill. I didn't fall in love with him. I just fell out of love with you. He was there to scratch an itch, but if I'd never met him, I was going to ask you for a divorce. He's a kid, and I knew he'd never keep it in his pants for me. He's too hot. So, yeah, I ended it with him. If you don't believe me, take him in your office and put a lie detector on him."

"I've already talked with him."

There was something about the way he said it that made her know.

"Shit, you must have made him really angry. I hope he didn't hurt you too much."

She saw a smile grow on his face and realized it was the first time she'd seen him smile in three and a half months.

"He was pretty angry, but....well, let's just say he's not going to be the pretty boy he used to be."

"But-"

"You just have no respect for me at all, do you?"

She looked at him again. He was dressed as usual in black slacks and a black shirt, but his arms and shoulders were better defined and his gut didn't bulge out the way it had. She remembered the way he had looked in the gym that night. There was something else, something she couldn't put her finger on. But he was different.

She couldn't believe she was actually asking it, but she heard herself say, "You didn't hurt him too bad?"

The smile vanished.

"You still care for the bastard, don't you? Are you really through with him?"

"I don't want you going to prison, losing everything you spent your life working for. And....I don't care for him..but-"

"He's alive. I busted him up some and he's having a little trouble breathing with busted ribs. And, I broke his nose, but he'll live. In case you haven't heard, he's leaving town."

She just stared at him. What had happened?

"I didn't have anything to do with it. Apparently he's had a job on the table for awhile in Chicago, but he says he was staying for you. He said he would have taken you with him if you'd agreed. Doesn't sound like he thought he was just a way to scratch an itch."

"I don't know about you, but I am going to have a beer."

She opened the fridge, grabbed a Michelob Light and took a sip after taking the top off.

"He -- he was more serious than I thought he would be. He's...just a kid... Bill, actually emotionally I don't know that he's much more mature than Kelly. Just a big overgrown kid."

"You move pretty fast, Debbie. Throw me out, move him in, throw him out, and you've already lined up a replacement. Actually, I have to give you credit for making a better choice this time. That guy Abbott seems alright. A good writer, and at least with him, you won't have to be always looking down."

She slammed the beer down so hard on the table that it sloshed over.

"I never looked down on you, dammit Bill. That was always in your head. You'd think after 18 years and all the times I fucked you until you couldn't move you'd have finally figured out that two inches of height is nothing."

He didn't say anything, just looked around the kitchen as if he were looking at it for the first -- or the last -- time.

"Doesn't matter, Debbie. In a month it'll all be moot. Thank you for telling me what happened between Doug and Kelly. It matches what he said and I have no reason not to believe you because nothing he or you said contradicts what BJ saw and heard."