When Men Betray (13 page)

Maggie and Beth looked puzzled, but Clovis got the point. “I'm not worried about getting paid. I'll quit apologizing, if you'll quit worrying about the cost. Just tell me what you need, and I'll dig up whatever you think is out there.”

“Deal. I still haven't decided what my role is here, but I want to have my team in place in case I decide to play,” I said in my best coach's voice.

“I got news for you, slugger—you're already in the game.”

W
E DECIDED TO
call it quits for now, and Beth and Maggie left to change for dinner. It occurred to me that bathing and dressing wouldn't be a snap. I'd been given strict orders at the hospital not to get the bandages wet for at least twenty-four hours. I had to ease off my sweatpants slowly and tried to wash sitting on the side of the tub. I felt like a cat. What I really wanted to do was stand under a piping hot shower for about twenty minutes. Getting into a fresh set of clothes was no treat either. But as usual, even with a leg that throbbed like crazy, I was ready for dinner before Beth. I knocked on her bedroom door and said I'd wait for her downstairs in the restaurant. I assured her I'd be fine on my own, before she had the chance to ask.

The lobby was packed with people checking in, going to the bar, or arriving for dinner. Brenda stood in the restaurant entrance, dressed in a black cocktail dress that showed off the surprising curves of her lean figure. Up to now, I had only seen her in business suits. I figured she was meeting someone, and was surprised to find that I was a little jealous. I had no choice—as if I'd wanted one—but to walk right up to her.

“Wow! You look wonderful!” I couldn't help it. She did.

“You clean up pretty well yourself—especially after all you've been through. How's the leg?”

“Oh, I'm okay. That's a terrific dress. Going out for the evening?”

“Not tonight—not with this big crowd. Frankly, I'm a little on edge. I tend to dress up a bit when I'm stressed. It's a psychological boost, you know?”

“Really? Me, I tend to clam up and overeat.”

She smiled. “Actually, while you're having dinner, I'll be meeting with Clovis, my security guys, and about a half-dozen other security people here to protect their celebrities. I decided to get them all in one room so they don't end up shooting each other. I can't believe someone tried to break into Maggie's suite. It happens, but Bruce has some explaining to do.”

“Don't you ever sleep?”

“Not while the hotel is this full. Things will calm down in a few days. Then I'll crash. I'm sorry—you shouldn't be standing.” She waved off the maître d' and led me to a quiet banquette in the corner. “Do you mind if I join you for a minute?”

I gestured for her to sit. We each ordered a glass of wine and chatted for a while, pointedly avoiding funerals, hospitals, and security. She began by talking about the changes she'd made at the hotel. She had brought in a great chef from Atlanta, and together, they personally selected all the wines served in the bar and the hotel. Conversation moved easily, and I found myself enjoying her company.

“What do you think about South African wines?” I asked, as Maggie, Beth, and Walter walked into the restaurant.

“We've only recently … Oh, the rest of your party is here. I hope you all have a good evening.” With that, she stood and walked toward the door.

Watching her leave, Walter simply said, “Well. That's quite an attractive woman. Is she really the manager of the hotel?”

“She's a first-class distraction,” Maggie answered for me tartly, “that's what Brenda Warner is.”

We all laughed and joked, at my expense as usual, until the waiter arrived and took our orders. I ordered a bottle of an excellent California cabernet. I decided that a little good wine was better than any pain pill. The meal turned out to be as good as Brenda had promised. Soon we found ourselves sampling each other's food and talking as
though nothing else in the world mattered. The wine had done its part; I hardly felt my leg.

After the waiter cleared the table, he presented us with four new wine glasses.

Walter said, “I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of ordering a new wine.” The waiter arrived with a chilled bottle of Sauterne—Château d'Yquem.

“Well, damn!” I said. “What's the occasion?”

Walter smiled like the Cheshire cat. After the wine was poured, he raised his glass. “Friends, Maggie has made me the happiest man in the world. We're getting married.” Beth and I gasped and quickly raised our glasses to Maggie, who was biting her lip. She stretched out her left hand so we could admire her engagement ring.

I said, “It's about time. So tell us all about your plans. When's the big day?”

Their plans were almost complete, which didn't surprise me. The wedding would be at Maggie's parish church in England, and they insisted that Beth and I attend. What did surprise me was that Beth would be Maggie's only attendant and Walter wanted me to be his best man. After the ceremony, Walter and Maggie planned to spend three months traveling the world.

After we'd congratulated the happy couple, Maggie dropped the next bomb. “Jack, Monday morning Ron will open an envelope I slipped into his mailbox, giving the firm two weeks' notice. You know I'll stay longer if you need me. But the way I see things developing, Woody's case is the last one we'll work on together.”

There was a catch in my voice as I said, “Well, Mags. Damn. I'll miss … Look, let's talk about it later.” And that was all I could muster.

Beth and Maggie went back to discussing dresses and flowers, while I tried to refocus. Walter got my attention.

“I know you have a lot going on right now. Maggie has told me what she can, and I know that taking Maggie away is a blow, but do you think I could have about an hour of your time tomorrow? I've been working on something for a while now, and I want to run it by you. It can wait until we all get back, but I thought you might like to have something more on your plate.” He chuckled.

“Sure.” I looked to Maggie.

“Don't worry,” she said, smiling, “I'll fit it into the schedule.”

Clovis took advantage of the pause in our conversation to approach the table and offer to escort us to our rooms. We all agreed it was time, happy to have ended the evening on such a high note.

A
FTER
C
LOVIS DID
a quick reconnaissance sweep and left, I suggested to Beth that we both go to bed, but she would have none of it. The throb in my leg was becoming more insistent, but rather than take a pill, I filled my wine glass and told Beth I was self-medicating. She rolled her eyes, but didn't scold.

I sank into one of the comfortable chairs and propped my sore leg up on the coffee table. Beth sat on the sofa with her legs tucked under her. I figured she wanted to talk about the wedding announcement, but she threw me a curve.

“That Brenda's a hottie,” she said, smiling with guileless innocence. “What did y'all talk about before we got there? Are you going to see her again?”

“We talked a little, mostly about the hotel.”

“Do I have to drag it out of you?”

“If you don't mind, I find talking to you about her a little awkward. I don't know what to say. Yes, I do find her attractive. But that's it.”

“Dad, it's okay if there's more to it. It's been long enough! It's okay to start looking. It means you're moving ahead, getting a life.”

“You do know that I don't need your permission.” It was both a statement and a question.

“Of course you do.” We both laughed at that. Most men don't need
to consult their daughters about their personal relationships. I knew she meant well, but I always got antsy when Beth brought up the subject of women, and tonight was no exception.

It had been three years since Angie had died. Friends in DC were always trying to set me up, and I'd taken a couple of women out more than once. They were nice enough, but Angie had been the only woman I ever wanted or needed. Yet I had to admit that Brenda had started me thinking. Although I doubted she'd given me a second thought.

Beth took pity on me and changed the subject. “I talked to Jeff a while ago. He's worried. Your near miss already made the Internet, and he thinks I need to come back to school. I told him about Paul and Clovis, but he didn't buy it.”

“If I were Jeff, I'd be worried too. I know I am! Clovis says you're safer staying here, but I think he wants to keep all his chicks near the nest. I'll talk with him again tomorrow. I love having you here, but the first and foremost consideration has to be your safety. Look, honey, I didn't expect any of this. I thought I could get Woody a lawyer and we could just go home. Usually I can get my arms around the issues in a case and come up with a game plan pretty quickly. But it's not that simple this time. For one thing, this is a murder case, and it's Woody. The issues are blurry and the facts make no sense. We also have one huge problem—the elephant in the room.”

“The elephant?”

“Woody shot Russell on national TV. We all saw it. It's hard to get past that elephant, no matter why he did it. We all want to make sense out of what he did, but you can't get around the crime itself.”

“So the ‘why' doesn't matter?”

“It only matters if it can reduce a sentence or prove that he was insane at the time. If that's the case, he might get sent to a mental institution instead of prison.”

“Do you think he was insane?”

I'd thought about what Woody had said to me. If the sheriff hadn't interrupted us, I would have asked him if he had been about to take his own life. And if so, why? He said that he wanted to shock Russell, but the gun went off. If that were true it might mitigate the punishment, but it wasn't insanity. The part that troubled me even more was
why Woody would want to kill himself, if that was in fact his plan, and why he needed to shock Russell in the first place.

“No, I don't think he was insane, but I really don't know enough yet. I need to get some sleep. Hopefully I can wake up with a clear mind in the morning and concentrate on what I came here to do.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure.”

“The nurse said that, after all you've been through, this would seem like nothing. What did she mean? I've wondered about your scars, but you never wanted to talk about them, so I stopped asking.”

Maybe it was the wine that loosened my tongue, or maybe it was just time to tell her. “The short answer is, something did happen a long time ago. The scars represent a part of what happened, but there's a lot more to the story. Let me do what I can do to help Woody and Helen, and then, I promise you, before we leave Little Rock, I'll answer your question. Okay?”

“I guess so,” she said reluctantly. She appeared to mull it over a bit and then said, “Let me help you change that bandage.”

“It won't gross you out?”

Again with the rolling eyes, “Remember that EMT training I had in high school? You're lucky you have me here.”

“That I am. The bandages are in the sack the nurse gave me. It should be in my room.”

Watching her change the bandage, I mused, “Well, we've certainly had some excitement this weekend. You got to meet Helen, I was almost run over, and we've been invited to a wedding in London, not to mention the whole Woody thing, which I can still hardly believe. We can't say it's been a boring trip.”

“There you go, all done. I'm just glad you're okay. It sounds stupid, but in a way, this has been pretty cool. I feel like I have you back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you, Dad, you know that, but you needed a change. You've been mourning Mom and just … going through the motions for so long, with everyone—with me, even. If she could, Mom would say the same thing. Now suddenly you're dodging cars, yelling at the press, making new friends, and you've even noticed a woman. It's enough to make me bet you'll find a way to help Woody.”