Playing the Game (29 page)

“Roxanne and I are seeing each other. And she is not a murderer.” Barry glanced pointedly at Scotty. By virtue of his calm certainty, Barry made the lawyer’s assertion seem ludicrous.

“Just stick to the issue of your relationship. What exactly do you mean that you are ‘seeing each other’?”

“I doubt we have the type of relationship that Scotty is insinuating.”

“And what kind of relationship do you think he insinuated, Mr. Dennis?”

“He insinuated that it was serious, Your Honor.” Now he quirked a half-smile at the judge and Roxanne watched her nod.

“And your relationship with Ms. Monet is not what you’d characterize as ‘serious’?”

“No.”

“What do you call serious?”

“Engaged, living together, married.” He finished.

She looked at Roxanne. “Do you agree, Ms. Monet?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Roxanne didn’t hesitate a second. She stifled the urge to give the Scout’s Honor signal, feeling partly relieved and, though she had no right, partly disappointed. She found it easier to breathe now. But her hand shook as she pushed a strand of hair off her face.

“Your Honor, she visits his daughter daily. And they may as well be living together.” Scotty looked at Roxanne with innuendo in his eyes.

“You’re speaking out of turn, Scotty,” Roxanne said. She gave him a hard look. The man’s audacity was incredible.

“That’s my line, Ms. Monet,” the judge warned her. “She’s right, though.” The judge glared at Scotty and flicked a glance at the quiet, brooding Paul Paris before turning back to Roxanne. “Do you visit Mr. Dennis’s daughter regularly?”

“Yes. I work for the hospital. I visit a lot of the kids.”

“You’re a nurse?”

Roxanne smiled at the note of disbelief. “No. I’m a volunteer with the CMH League. We do fund-raising.”

“That’s more like it. Why do you visit with this particular child?”

“She has no mother.” Roxanne spoke immediately and then realized she should say more. “She’s very sweet and we get along well. We talk basketball.” Roxanne had to stop herself from saying too much now. She looked at Barry who was eying her impersonally as if she were some anonymous witness on a stand.

“There—you see? She talks basketball. They talk about the girl’s father. She makes false promises defending the man. That’s very psychologically damaging. And she’s influencing the child with her loose morals.” Scotty continued to speak in his circus voice.

“That’s enough, Scotty. You’ve made your point. Such as it is. But I think the media circus that has been created out of this situation will prevent the child from being insulated from psychological harm. I won’t say any more on that subject for now. Al, let’s hear from you.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Al stood. “It’s true that Mr. Dennis has not visited his daughter frequently, not as much as she needs, nor as much as he’d like to. But he has serious commitments and some difficult adjustments to make. This situation has been almost as traumatic for him as it has been for his daughter. As he continues to address the increased importance of his role as parent, he is eager to show the court that his intentions are to do nothing less than foster a growing and stronger relationship with his child. This is tricky for the best of parents.” Al paused and threw Barry a significant look. Roxanne knew something was up.

“To that end, we are prepared to submit a schedule of planned visits.” Al paused again to hand a sheaf of papers to the judge. He flashed another glance at Barry. This time the look was threatening, as if to warn him not to say a word.

Roxanne looked in Barry’s direction, trying hard not to show her anxiety. Barry had mastered a look of indifference. She wondered how deep the indifference went. Then Al continued.

“The schedule includes a minimum of two visits weekly with the child and additional time with the team of doctors, including the child psychologist, as deemed necessary by them to fully participate in Lindy’s care and further prepare himself for her homecoming.” Al sat down. The judge smacked the papers against her palm.

Roxanne looked at him. Roxanne suspected he hadn’t expected Al to commit him to any schedule. She could feel the tension emanating from his body, even if he didn’t let it show in his face. He turned to her.

She silently applauded Al for throwing Barry straight into it.

“Looks to me like it’s settled then.” The judge turned to Paul and Scotty. “TRO denied. We’ll schedule a full hearing in a couple of months—if you’re still intent on pursuing this matter at that time.” She turned back to Al. “We’re going to hold you to this,” she said pointing to the schedule. Then she turned to Barry.

“You’re a hell of a basketball player, Mr. Dennis. Let’s see if you can bring some of that intensity, devotion and success to raising your daughter.” She turned and with a wave of her hand, dismissed them.

Roxanne sat at her desk in her office at Children’s Mercy Hospital the next day. She confirmed the last minute details for the television shoot of the hospital’s children’s holiday party. She was about to disagree with the director about the sequence of events when she noticed two red lights flashing, signaling two callers on hold. The digital readout showed that Barry was on one line and Al was on the other. Thinking fast, she decided to take Al’s call and phone Barry back.

“Roxy? Bad news. The Marblehead police called me a second ago and they want to talk. Penelope’s finally got her way. Seems the wrongful death suit convinced them to reopen Don’s file and they’re reconsidering the manner of death.” He paused. “They want you for questioning.”

“God Almighty, Al. How could this happen? How could the police possibly take her accusations seriously?” She jumped from her chair and felt her hand squeeze the phone.

“Apparently her PI dug up some new evidence.”

“But how could that be? There is no evidence because I’m innocent. I didn’t murder anyone.” She lowered her voice. “Don wasn’t murdered.” She slowly sat back down in her chair. It felt unreal, but at the same time she always knew it would come to this. “What do we do now?”

“They want to talk to you today. They’re at the house grilling Bonnie as we speak.”

She pictured the scene. She felt bad for the detective who was stuck questioning Bonnie. “What kinds of questions will they ask?”

“Everything. About the most minute and intimate details of your life. This is a career- making case for this police chief. Very high profile—not the kind of thing they normally see. I’ve already had calls from three reporters. We’d been lucky with the press up to now. But that’s about to change. In spades.”

“How long will this craziness make it impossible to sell the house?” she asked, but her mind moved quickly onto the implications for Lindy and Barry.

“As long as the wrongful death suit throws into question your rightful ownership of the house the way they have it written up, title to your house remains murky. But getting out from under your financial debt is the least of your concerns right now. You have to take this police investigation seriously. You’re going to have to give me the whole story about Don before the police question you so we know what you should say. I have my suspicions about the angle they’re playing for.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning your rocky relationship with Don will never have done you more harm than now, honey.”

“Al, aren’t you forgetting an important fact? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t get his money. I didn’t have a motive.” She took a deep breath. “And you know as well as I do—everyone knows but won’t say it—Don committed suicide. I know it in my heart.”

“Roxy, when the police detective gets into your past, no one is going to believe you ever had a heart. Your innocence isn’t going to matter if they dig up enough damage to turn sentiment against you. And I’d say they’re well on their way. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility of a plea bargain.”

“What? Not a chance. I’m innocent and that’s how I’m going to play it all the way.” She turned rigid with anger, tightening her grip on the phone. She might need a new attorney.

“Roxanne, you are far from innocent.”

Now she knew she needed a new attorney. “I’m not a murderer, Al. I’m no Girl Scout, not even close, but it’s time I faced things square. If they want to convict me because they think I married Don for his money, then so be it. But it’s going to be as clear as hell that’s what it’s about. No more rationalizing. No more excuses. I’ll stand or fall on whatever my life adds up to at this point. Then at least I can go on from here with a clear conscience.”

“You want this confrontation, don’t you? You want to be declared guilty or innocent by a jury because you can’t do it yourself? Is that it?”

“Maybe it is. I guess there’s a conflict of interest involved or something.” She tried for levity to calm Al. His voice had taken a slightly hysterical note. She, for once, felt calm.

“Think what this could do to the rest of your life, Roxy,” Al pleaded.

“It’s too late. The damage has been done. It was too late from the instant Don took his life. He probably didn’t even realize the toll of revenge he would extract from me with his suicide. But it’s been done all the same.”

“With a little help from his mother.” Al sounded bitter. She felt touched by his obvious concern on her behalf and wondered if he would come through for her after all. She’d give him a chance. For now.

“Al, you forget. I’m a big girl. If it was anyone’s doing, it was my own. It was my mistake to marry Don. I wanted to correct it—sure. But sometimes mistakes are impossible to make right. Don made sure of that in this case.” She paused and felt the last of her own bitterness escape her, leaving a measure of peace in its wake. “I can’t blame him,” she said finally. She felt sad, not for the first time. But this time it was more. She felt a true empathy for Don as emptiness struck her. She wasn’t surprised at the tears that streamed down her cheeks now.

Laura walked in. Al ended the conversation, promising to meet her later at the police station. She hung up and swiped at her cheeks.

“Roxy, I don’t know what to say. The police called. They’re coming here to question people in connection with Don’s death,” Laura said. She moved closer. “They’re calling it a possible murder.”

Roxanne heard the warble in her friend’s voice. Laura plopped into the chair in front of her and put her hand to her face in an attempt to cover her tears. Roxanne jumped to her feet and went around the desk to hug her friend.
I don’t deserve these wonderful friends
.

She clenched her jaw with determination to make up for her past. She needed to be cleared of the charges and she needed to behave beyond reproach. No more playing games.

Especially not with Barry. She felt her heart thud heavily like her blood had turned to lead. Longing welled up and threatened to overtake her.

She met Al at the police station at six p.m. that night. Detective Turner met them in the Marblehead Police Station lobby and escorted them to an office. The Detective sat down behind a desk and gestured for them to take the two visitor chairs. It was nothing like the noisy setup she’d seen on TV cop shows. The room was small with one window sporting drawn blinds and the rest of the walls covered with charts, a whiteboard, and bookshelves. Roxanne sat and crossed her legs. She waited for someone else to speak first while she did her best to maintain normal breathing.

“Ms. Monet, where did you go when you left the party the night of Don’s death?”

“I went home—which you know because you were there when I arrived.”

“And before that?”

She studied his face in case she missed something, but she had no clue what he meant. “I’m sorry…”

“Never mind. Is there anyone who can attest to your whereabouts for the entire evening until you arrived home and met with me?”

“Yes. Mark Baines. I already…”

“We’ll need to speak with him again.” Turner pushed a paper and pen toward her. “Write down his name and contact information.”

“Will that be all?” Al asked.

“Not by a long shot. I want to know everything there is to know about Ms. Monet’s relationship with her husband in the weeks and months leading up to his death,” Turner said to Al. Then he looked at her.

She stopped writing and let out a sigh. Al patted her arm. It would be a long night.

The next day Roxanne went to a meeting with Harry, Laura and some other public relations and nursing staff who were involved in staging the Christmas party for the children at the hospital.

Spread over the table in the conference room were various newspapers with Roxanne’s picture and headlines proclaiming her as the police’s number one murder suspect in her husband’s slaying. Roxanne tried in vain not to look at the papers.

Harry spoke from the head of the table. “As you know, the hospital’s Board of Trustees has insisted on suspending Roxanne indefinitely due to the wonderful job our local media is doing in covering this so-called murder case.” He spread his hands indicating his disdain for the pile of papers. “Dr. Evans was particularly adamant about this point. Naturally the board also wants her to be excluded from the upcoming Christmas party event, but that would mean canceling the live broadcast. However, Roxanne, being the person she is, talked to the studio and they agreed to go ahead with the broadcast—with an alternate host.” Harry paused.

Laura popped out of her seat.

“The point of this meeting is that Roxanne should still be allowed to participate in the Christmas party, unofficially. At least she should be allowed to attend.”

“What about Dr. Evans? Won’t he be upset by that? After all, it will be televised. Anyone who participates will be a direct reflection on the hospital,” a nurse said.

Roxanne wasn’t used to being talked about like she was a stick of furniture. She felt her face heat with anger—although it could have been embarrassment. It took all the control she had not to shout a string of swears in that woman’s direction right that second. Laura responded for her.

“May I remind you, all of you, that a person is innocent until proven guilty in this country? Is that a bunch of baloney that we all give lip service to? Aren’t we going to stand by Roxanne? She’s someone who has worked her butt off for this hospital for too long to throw her to the pack of jackals now.” Laura stared each down each person in the room. Roxanne felt an overwhelming urge to hug her friend, but settled for a pat on the back for the moment. Laura was turning out to have a lot more gumption than Roxanne had ever given her friend credit for. Pride swelled along with gratitude in a beautiful, head-spinning feeling.