Hide Away, page 7
Wonder what Beverly Laborde would say to that? Somehow, Adam thought she might be able to hold her own in the ring and put up a pretty good fight.
Adam was in luck. His occasional sparring partner, Frank Ethridge, was there and greeted him with a thump on the back. “Wondered what happened to you, Adam. Thought you were swallowed up by a blue hole.”
“Blue hole?”
“Black hole wouldn’t fit a cop, now would it?”
Adam laughed. “Guess not. Got your gloves ready?”
“I had ‘em bronzed and mounted on my wall when I hadn’t seen you in a couple months.” The man guffawed at his own joke. “Nah, I kid. They’re over there. I see you brought yours.”
“I need this, Frank. And don’t think I’ll be taking it easy on you this time.”
“Like you ever do.” Ethridge tilted his head and squinted at Adam. “I know why you’re here, though. Read about Harlan in the paper. Damn shame.”
Adam took one of his gloves and popped it on the other man’s head. “Less talk, more violence.”
The two men headed to the small boxing ring in the corner and immediately settled into a friendly but jabbing exchange of punches and counterpunches. They happily added their own collection of sweat to the gym’s catalog of aromas.
They’d been at it for only fifteen minutes when Frank’s cellphone rang from the edge of the ring. He tore off his gloves and hopped over to check it, then apologized to Adam. “Gotta take this. It’s my kid. She tried out for the school band today. Bassoon. Tried to get her to go for the flute. More jobs.”
After Frank had stepped out of the ring and headed out the front door, chatting the entire way, Adam became aware of a presence behind him. He whipped around and saw the mocking mug of Sergeant Mike Moody.
Moody leaned across the ropes. “You up for a round or two, Dutton?”
Adam was tempted to take him up on his offer and wipe that smug smile right off his face. But he didn’t think the chief would be too happy if one of his detectives beat one of his sergeants to a bloody pulp. “Would love to, Mike, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. I’ve got an appointment in an hour.”
“Appointment? You mean date, right? With that sexy Beverly Laborde? You must be doing it with her, right?”
Moody was baiting Adam, angling for a fight. But the image of a bloodied and battered Moody would have to do for now. “It’s a case I’m working on. A reason I made detective so fast—a lot of overtime, paid and unpaid.”
Adam said those words through a clenched smile, playing it cool. He knew how his words would affect Moody, who’d made no secret of his career-climbing ambitions. And it did wipe the smile off the other man’s face, even it not nearly as satisfying as a left hook.
Adam left the ring, waved at Moody, and headed outside the building. Frank was finishing up the conversation with his daughter and must have seen the dark clouds forming on Adam’s face. “What got into you, sport?”
“Sergeant Mike Moody. A man who thinks he’s God’s gift to, well, everything. He’s not my biggest fan.”
“I can’t leave you alone for a moment without you getting into trouble. You should hire me as your official bodyguard.”
“I’ll run it by the chief, Frank. I’m sure he’ll be happy to put you on the roll. For free, of course.” Adam pointed at the phone still in the other man’s hand. “Daughter make the band?”
“She made it through the first round. Says there’s another girl gunning for the same seat. Kinda like her own Mike Moody.”
“She has my sympathies. Give her my best. And tell her she’s got good genes on her side. How could she possibly lose?”
Ethridge grinned at him. “You are so full of it, cop-man. But I’ll tell her. Better than my prepared pep talk of ‘always drink upstream from the herd.’”
Frank had a way of cheering Adam up, and Adam parted ways feeling less nervous about Harlan’s arraignment tomorrow. And with any luck, Moody wouldn’t find out that Adam’s “appointment” was with the TV and a beer while flipping through case notes about Wallace Ryall’s murder.
Chapter 11
Wednesday, December 5
The drizzly gray morning should have served as an omen—the minute they entered the lobby of the Superior Courthouse, Adam spied trouble. Mayor Titus Lehmann was talking to a man Adam recognized as a prosecutor’s assistant, his arms waving in the air a sign of his agitation.
Adam turned to Beverly and said in a low voice, “Lehmann’s already suspicious of me and my role in this case. Seeing you might set him off.”
Beverly frowned at him, but after a glance over at the mayor, she said, “You don’t think I should sit in on the arraignment.”
“I can explain to Harlan later. He’ll understand.”
Adam hated asking that of her and half-expected her to throw her own tirade back at him, but instead, she looked around the lobby. “Where should I go?”
“There aren’t any lounges for visitors. And you do have the SUV.”
She seemed to take the hint, although he detected the bitterness in her voice as she replied, “Shopping. Just the thing a woman needs to take her mind off the fact she’s a liability to her friends.”
“To Lehmann. Not to your friends.”
He was relieved when she turned her bitterness toward the mayor, with a dark scowl in the man’s direction. “Maybe I’ll buy some rat poison since I have a problem with them.”
“I’ll call you when I have word, Beverly. Besides, you’re my ride to the station, remember?” He wasn’t happy about that arrangement, but when his car wouldn’t start this morning, he’d reluctantly had to ask for her help.
She relented, and he watched her go with a mixture of relief and disappointment. He didn’t even have Jinks by his side today. Guess it was him against the mob. Although one judge and one prosecuting attorney didn’t count as a mob. And he wasn’t entirely alone since he’d finally persuaded Harlan to hire the best defense attorney around, Duane Sher.
It was a delicate dance when a cop was friends with a suspect. Adam had immediately offered to recuse himself from the case when Harlan was pinpointed as the main suspect, but Ironwood Junction wasn’t a major metropolitan area. Almost everyone knew everyone else a little. And the chief had given Adam his support, especially when Adam insisted he should be the one to arrest Harlan.
Duane Sher was already in place in the courtroom, wearing his customary navy suit, and didn’t acknowledge Adam as he entered. He and Sher were often on opposite sides of the legal fence, but they respected one another. Do your job well and honorably to the best of your abilities, rinse, repeat. Adam and Sher actually had several shared interests, but defense attorneys and police detectives were rarely best buds.
State’s Attorney, Philip Arment, was also there, shooting not-so-friendly glares Adam’s way. Most of the time, they were not only on the same side of the legal fence, but they were practically in bed together. Adam tried not to look at the folder Arment was currently scanning, knowing it contained details on the very evidence Adam obtained against Harlan.
Adam swallowed the acid in his throat when the bailiff ushered Harlan into court. Fortunately, Harlan wasn’t handcuffed or shackled, and he wore his street clothes. When he was led to the defense side next to his attorney, he turned his head toward the area where Adam sat.
The only other person in the defense box was a petite elderly woman dressed in a blue paisley dress with a purple felt cloche hat. Harlan didn’t have any sisters. Who was she?
One other person caught Adam’s attention. But it was hard to miss the yellowish glint of light off the shiny bald head of Mayor Lehmann, who hunkered down in his chair with a scowl that made him look like a Halloween skull mask.
The State’s Attorney presented his case matter-of-factly and argued for a charge of first-degree murder with no bail. The mayor nodded his head at the conclusion of Arment’s statement. Might as well have given the attorney a thumb’s up sign. It was no great secret to Adam that State’s Attorneys were often on the fast track to political office or appointments. Just as it was no secret Lehmann was gunning for the governorship. Birds of a feather.
But Lehmann’s presence was hardly needed. In fact, it was the first time Adam had ever seen him attend an arraignment. Overcompensating? After all, he’d been caught doing business with the same Forsythe henchman who’d tried to kill Adam. Or was he wanting to see his plan of revenge against Adam and Harlan come to fruition?
Duane Sher spent his turn at bat working forward from Harlan’s “not guilty” plea with a recitation of the low flight risk Harlan presented. As a long-time member of the community and business owner, Sher argued, Harlan should be granted bail in light of the “paper-thin” circumstantial evidence.
Adam should have winced at that. But in truth, the evidence was quite circumstantial. Sher concluded with the motion that Harlan’s case be dismissed due to the lack of hard proof and the evidence of a break-in at the antiques shop.
Harlan had drawn one lucky break with the judge on duty, the Honorable Lena Mollin. She was known as the “Julep Judge,” for her mixture of smoky toughness and sweetness, depending upon the case, but was generally considered to be fair.
The questions she put to Sher were enough to give Adam hope until she announced her decision about dismissing the case. “I find there is enough evidence to proceed with this case, but not clear and convincing evidence of guilt to be held without bail. Given that Harlan Wilford does not present a threat to the community or a substantial flight risk, I am willing to set bail at two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Adam’s heart sank at the amount. Even if they could get a bail bondsman interested, they’d be out the ten percent at the end. And twenty-five grand wasn’t chump change for Adam or Harlan. Adam had half-hoped for an unsecured appearance bond, but that possibility disappeared in a puff of unhappy smoke.
Then Sher did something unexpected. He turned to the elderly woman beside him, who handed over a piece of paper. Sher transferred the paper to Judge Mollin, who read it carefully. “This appears to be a property lien.”
Sher replied, “It is, your Honor. A copy was filed with the town clerk’s office and the courthouse. Miss Agnes Flamm here is a friend of the defendant’s and wishes to offer this property as a surety bond. You will see that it’s worth more than two hundred fifty thousand.”
Adam scratched his chin. Beverly had told him her friend Agnes would put up the building she was turning into a wine shop to bond out Harlan, but Adam hadn’t believed she’d really be willing to do it. Either she was a saint, or Beverly’s charm vortex had pulled her into down into its alluring waters, too.
Miss Flamm smiled up at the judge who turned to the State’s Attorney. “This appears to be legitimate, Counselor.”
Arment’s face turned boiled-lobster red. Although he didn’t argue, he did give a quick glance in Mayor Lehmann’s direction.
Judge Mollin added, “In light of this lien, I hereby agree to release Harlan Wilford on bail until trial. He will surrender his passport, be limited to his home, business, and any medical appointments, and must agree to electronic monitoring.”
Mollin looked directly at Adam. “Mr. Wilford will also be required to check in with the Ironwood Junction police, as designated by Chief Caldwell Quinn. Does the defense agree to these conditions?”
“We do, your Honor.”
“Then I release him to your custody, counselor. And I expect you and Miss Flamm will also make certain Mr. Wilford returns for his next court appearance?”
Sher answered in the affirmative, while Agnes Flamm was as calm and unflappable as a deep river on a windless day. The attorney whisked Harlan out a side door, meaning Adam didn’t have a chance to chat with him. Not that he would have, thanks to Lehmann glaring at Adam with a face that was a more apoplectic shade of crimson than Arment’s.
As Lehmann leaned over to whisper to a flunky, Adam took the opportunity to slip out of the courtroom. He hurried to a quiet spot near a small vending machine area and called Beverly on her cell to give her the news.
“Agnes offered the wine shop as bail?” Beverly sounded incredulous.
“You didn’t put her up to it?”
“I mentioned to her what you’d said about putting your own house up, and how it would look suspicious. And though I mentioned off-handedly to you the possibility of her using the shop, I didn’t ask her to do this and never dreamed she would.”
“And she’s never met Harlan?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Well, you can come pick me up now. That is, if you’ve finished shopping for shoes and rat poison.” He didn’t add that he planned on investigating Miss Flamm’s background to be safe. He didn’t want there to be any blindsiding of Harlan’s case by unexpected skeletons in the closet.
“Where’s Harlan now?”
“His attorney is taking him home. I can’t exactly visit him there. Not unless it’s an official visit.”
“But I can.”
“First things first. Drop me off at the station so I can update the chief.”
“I’ll be right there.” She paused and then added, “What was the mayor’s reaction?”
“Let’s just say he’s not going to sleep well tonight.”
“I almost pity Zelda. Almost.”
Adam had half-expected Zelda to make an appearance since they’d shared many happy times together with Harlan during their marriage. Maybe the mayor had decreed that she stay home. Maybe she didn’t care anymore.
He was so deep in thought, he ran into someone, and when he looked up, the flash of short, red hair made his pulse race a little. Speak of the devil. Not seeming to care if the mayor or anyone else saw, Zelda wrapped Adam in a bear hug, holding on longer than was necessary for a standard greeting.
She smiled up at him, “Harlan didn’t do it.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“And so do you.”
“Your husband would disagree.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, he’s only desperate to appear tough on crime. And the murdered man’s father was his golfing buddy. It’s always all about Titus.”
“Titus makes no bones about his dislike for me. And by default, Harlan.”
Zelda Lehmann wrinkled her brow. “I admit Titus can be obsessive at times. But to frame Harlan? That’s what you’re suggesting, isn’t it?”
“Have to check all angles.”
“He knows how I feel about Harlan. If Titus loves me, he would never think about such a thing.”
Adam didn’t believe Titus was capable of loving anyone other than himself. Would he even care if he knew Zelda had asked Adam point-blank to have an affair and keep it quiet? Okay, maybe he’d care because of the appearances.
Zelda had a knack for reading his mood, and she asked, “Have you reconsidered what we talked about last time you came to my house?”
Adam looked toward the ceiling. Perhaps some God somewhere would take pity on him and cause an earthquake. She didn’t wait for his reply as she continued, “Titus is going out of town in two weeks. And he’ll be gone for eight days. I’ll be all by my lonesome.”
She stepped in closer, pressing her body against his. Then she reached into her coat, pulled out a key, and slipped it into his pants pocket. “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered.
With a quick kiss on his lips, she disappeared around the corner, leaving him still plastered against the vending machine. Good thing those Snickers bars and Cheez-its couldn’t talk.
Was his ex-wife really still interested in him? Or was this all an elaborate trap on the part of her mayor-husband to ensnare Adam and finally get him fired?
He turned around to look at the machines, hoping for one that dispensed coffee, although bourbon would be better. With a shake of his head, he headed toward the front of the courthouse to wait for Beverly. That cheered him a little. Definitely nice to have something better to think about than attorneys, arraignments. . .and affairs.
Chapter 12
Beverly’s heart sank as she drove up to the courthouse and saw the canyon-sized frown on Adam’s face. When he climbed in, she asked, “I thought Harlan being released on bail was good news?”
“That part’s good, you’re right. But poor Harlan has to wear an ankle monitor. And be almost a prisoner, stuck at home and work only. It’ll make him feel horrible. And how’s that going to work with his customers? Seeing him wear that thing?”
Beverly didn’t like the image, either, but replied, “His customers know him, Adam. Know he wouldn’t do what he’s accused of. And Prospero can hold down the fort if necessary.”
“Hope so.” Adam rubbed his temples. “And thanks for dropping me at the office. I’ll arrange for a mechanic to stop by the house and fix my car since the station can’t give me a loaner. Jinx can take me home later.”
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the station. Adam was probably as lost in his thoughts as Beverly was in hers. She felt so sorry for Adam being put in this position in the first place. Not being able to check on Harlan must be eating away at him.
When they arrived at the PD, Beverly said, “I’ll give Harlan a chance to settle in at home and check in on him later. I can let you know how he’s doing, right? I mean, surely that doesn’t break any ethics laws.”
“None that I know of. Tell him. . .no, you’d better not relay any messages from me. And thanks, Beverly. For being chauffeur and for being Harlan’s friend.”
She hated to leave Adam in his downcast state and gave him the most encouraging smile she could as she waved goodbye and drove off. She figured she’d give Harlan a couple of hours before she stopped by. Which meant she had a couple hours to burn.
Merely spending it at the Apple Valley Resort sitting around doing nothing wasn’t her style. Better to be proactive. She headed for the Salt Rock Lodge and Conference Center to chat with Braddon Hopper again.
