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The Tessarae Inn |
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose
CHAPTER 15
“I brought you a few toiletries and a change of clothes. This is just an arraignment but appearances do count.” “Who are you?” “Chapman Hensey, Attorney at Law. I will represent you for this arraignment.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, please get dressed. I will return in ten minutes then we can go over to the courthouse.” Hensey was dressed in a five-thousand dollar Eduardo Fenee suit and was wearing thousand dollar Jeffrey Eslense shoes. He sported a haircut so precise and a tan so perfect that there was no way he got either in Llanview. He had probably just returned from a visit to one of New York's premier salons. He reeked of money and success so did it really matter who he was? “I didn’t do it.” “Doesn’t matter. All I want is for you to remember the words ‘Not Guilty,’ which you will promptly say at the appropriate time. That would be when the judge asks, ‘How do you plead?’ The rest I will handle.” “Mr. Hensey, I don’t understand? Are you a public defender?” He laughed heartily with a wicked edge. “I don’t do public. Ten minutes, Miss Shuttlesworth.” He tapped the bars of the cell. A police officer appeared immediately. And in the blink of an idea, Chapman Hensey was gone.
Heather felt overwhelmed by the majesty of the Llanview courthouse. It seemed to reflect every image of the courthouse as a grand palace of justice that she’d ever conjured up in her imagination—extraordinarily high ceilings, magnificent crown molding, rich wood walls, huge pillars and a wide slash of human misery from wall-to-wall. A case number was announced and Hensey touched her on the arm. “That’s us. Now, remember keep your mouth shut. Do not look arrogant. Let me do all of the talking.” A sense of panic set in. What was really going on here? Was her father setting her up for a huge fall? Was…For a second, she thought she saw Bryan. He was sitting near the back on the right. She stared at him. Was he sorry? Had he come to say he was sorry? He stared back with eyes as cold as steel, but they weren't Bryan's eyes. Just another stranger in a crowd of strangers. “Very good,” said Hensey. “Keep that look on your face.” The whole procedure must have taken five minutes. She had said her “Not Guilty” when cued. The judge seemed bored, which she assumed was better than him appearing irritated. Hensey immediately asked that bail be granted. The prosecution protested—capital crime, murder, multiple wounds… Hensey countered—upstanding citizen, never any legal problems before, no reason to believe a risk of flight. Bail was granted and set at a cool million. She almost fainted. A million dollars! “Thank you, your honor. That will be fine. It is being posted now.” Heather looked up at him in astonishment. Her father had actually come through for her. How could she have believed he would ever really let her down? Once the paperwork was completed, Chapman Hensey gripped her elbow tightly and guided her out of the courtroom, down the thousand and one steps leading up to the front doors and deposited her beside a waiting limousine. It all felt like a dream--off-kilter, wild, weird. The driver jumped out of the car, rushed around and opened the door for her. She stared in and could see nothing. Hensey pushed her slightly and she took a deep breath and slid into the car. The rich leather and cushy softness of the seats felt like heaven after the harsh, cruel edges of the jail cell, and the dark interior felt comforting and soothing after the blaring lights that stayed on 24 hours in the cell. And most important she was finally no longer alone in all of this. Her father was sitting in the deep shadow of the seat across from her. “Daddy Carl?” “No. I’m afraid not.” The person leaned forward. It was a woman! A woman she didn’t recognize. The woman tipped her hand to Hensey. “Thank you, Chapman.” Hensey actually seemed to twitch like a bird in the sites of a big cat that had just magnanimously passed him over for dinner. “Mrs. Lord, I am always at your service,” Hensey said. The woman nodded and the driver closed the door. Heather stared at her. “Mrs. Lord?” The woman switched on one of the interior lights that provided a soft glow, then extended her hand. “I’m Dorian Lord. I don’t think we have met before.” Heather took her hand and shook it warily. “You hired the attorney for me?” “Yes, I did.” “The bail?” “I paid it. Now, you must promise not run.” “I don’t understand. Why?” “Now, that, my dear, is a story.”
She stayed in the shower for twenty minutes trying to wash away the memory of her time in jail and of the stench of disappointment that threatened to suffocate her. Her father had abandoned her. Bryan believed she was capable of murder and left her to rot away but not before having the nerve to wrist-slapping her for bad judgment. Neither Robyn nor Travis had even bothered to call. She had checked her phone messages just in case. And it was only because of the generosity of a stranger that she was here in her own home. She toweled off and then slipped into a loose fitting sweatshirt dress. It was a beautiful soft yellow but the sort of thing that only a few short weeks ago she wouldn’t be caught dead in. It worked now because, although someone looking at her might question her taste in clothes, they would not immediately think she was pregnant. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and didn’t bother to put on any makeup. Why should she? She was alone or at least she would be as soon as “Call me, Dorian” was assured that her investment was now safe, warm and clean. She walked down the staircase and with each step she was greeted by stronger and stronger versions of the most delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen. She tried to steel her back. She was after all Heather Shuttleworth but tears popped into her eyes anyway. When was the last time she’d walked into this room and felt such warmth? The place was cleaned and shining to within an inch of its life. There were beautiful cut flowers arranged in vases placed everywhere they could fit esthetically. Her living room looked like something out of one of those design magazines but most of all it felt homey and welcoming. Her place had never looked like this. Never. Dorian appeared around a corner. She was carrying a spoon in one hand and wearing an apron. Somehow Heather knew this was not her normal attire. “I thought I heard something. Glad to see you down. I’ll be right back.” Dorian disappeared and Heather stood and looked around. She wasn’t actually sure of what she was supposed to do. Stand. Sit. Go into the kitchen. Dorian reappeared a few seconds later without the spoon or the apron. She walked next to Heather and patted her reassuring on the arm. “I was about to go check on you. I’ve got a nice lunch for us.” “You’re cooking.” “Well, no, but I am warming it up. Ordered in from The Palace earlier.” “You’ve done so much already—the flowers, the... I…I don’t know what to say.” “Here sit down, darling. It will be another fifteen or so minutes before lunch is ready.” Heather sat on the couch and Dorian gestured for her lean back against the plush pillows, swing her legs around and then stretch them out. She did and Dorian grabbed a cashmere throw she had never seen before but had been draped across the back of the couch and spread it over her legs then tucked it in gently. It felt so good that she almost started crying again. “There,” said Dorian. “That should make you feel all warm, safe and cozy.” “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.” Dorian eased onto the couch and then patted her feet “Well, my dear, I too once had a totally unwarranted and unfortunate incident spearheaded by a boneheaded prosecution that resulted in a brief incarceration. And I remember at the time that nothing was more thrilling than when I was released and came home to a place of comfort and welcome. Since as far as I could tell you had no one, I just assumed this would cheer you up.” Heather burst into to tears. Those damn hormones again. Dorian moved behind her, circle her arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. “There. There dear. It is all going to be all right. We are going to have a nice lunch and then a nice talk.”
Lunch had been so good that she had seconds. Now she was once again stretched out on the couch. Dorian was sitting at the other end, sipping tea. “Oh, my,” said Dorian. “So you have never known your mother. What a shame. But then my two nieces also were deprived of their mothers at a young age. I have been there for them but then there is still always a loss.” “I never felt it. Not really. My father has always been more than enough.” “He’s a pretty powerful man I understand.” “Yes. I’ve always been proud to be his daughter.” Dorian raised her eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. “Yes, but he let your languish in a jail cell, accused of a crime you so obviously did not commit.” Heather stared down at her hands. She didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want Dorian to see how angry she was with her father, how as far as she was concerned he could kiss her behind from now on, how she would NEVER trust him, how… “What about your mother? You never wanted to see her?” “She left us.” “Are you sure about that? I mean I can’t imagine a mother leaving two beautiful daughters and never getting in contact with them over the years.” Heather shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it. And I never missed her. Until…” “Until what?” She placed her hand on her lap. “Nothing.” Dorian’s eyes seemed to zero in on her abdomen. She set her tea cup gently on the coffee table then leaned back. “You’re pregnant.” The words shocked Heather so much she could barely breathe. She had never been able to say the word out loud even to herself. “How ….how did you know?” “It’s a secret?” Dorian tilted her head up and then nodded ever so slightly. “I see. No one else, including your father, knows. Am I right?” “Do I look pregnant?” “Don’t worry, dear. I’m a doctor. I just recognized the signs. No one else will. And I won’t tell a soul. Our little secret.” Heather narrowed her eyes. Come into my web said the spider to the fly. What exactly did this woman want? She still had no clue and now she had let her in on the biggest secret of her life. That was not good. She was slipping. “Mrs. Lord, I think you better…” “Dorian. And I can see that I’ve upset you. Your secret is safe with me, my dear, but I guess I better tell you what I want.” “So there is a price.” “You’re way too smart to think there wouldn’t be.”
Heather folded her arms over her chest and stared out of the kitchen window. She was ashamed to admit how much she craved the warmth of just a little while ago. Dorian had cleaned up their lunch dishes and left everything spotless. Only the teapot covered in a decorative cozy she'd never seen before much less bought, still sat out in the open with her teacup next to it. Orange Zest herbal teal with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg scented the air. Why had it never struck her before how cold and uninviting her apartment was? Somehow Dorian Lord swept in, waved a magic wand and created a space for her with a hundred little touches that made this place feel more like a home than anywhere she'd lived in the last ten years. And on top of that Dorian Lord was Cassie Callison’s mother. She would never have guessed that in a million years. And the price? Keeping Daddy Carl away from Cassie. Some price. Little did Dorian know that she would have gladly done that for free. She wasn’t at all sure Dorian’s plan would work, still something told her not to count Dorian out. She was obviously a woman of many talents and Daddy Carl wouldn’t know… There was a knock on the door and her heart jumped. She told herself to calm down. The Llanview jail had spooked her more than she realized. She was jumpy and edgy but then she brightened. Maybe it was Dorian coming back. She wouldn’t mind talking to her some more, especially about the baby. She looked through the peephole then stepped back in equal parts shock and irritation. What the hell did he want? “I saw your eyeball moving back and forth,” he called through the door. “I know you’re there.” “What do you want?” “Need to talk to you. Just a minute of your time, Ms. Shuttlesworth.” “I’m not interested.” “Look, word is slowly leaking out that you made bail. Most reporters were tracking the movements of your version of Daddy Warbucks and his minions and, since he has not made a move, they assumed you were still cooling your size fives in the cooler. Slow they may be, but they will be here soon. I can sit out here and wait for them to arrive so I can fan a flame or two, or you can let me in and give me a minute of your time and then see my back as I hightail it on to my next piece of business.” She swung open the door. “Is there some reason why you have to come in?” “Yeah,” he said and walked past her. “To keep the public from seeing you dressed up like a banana. You look pretty good though for out-of-season fruit.” “Are you stalking me?” “You wish. Look,” he reached in his inside pocket and pulled out a card, “this is business.” She took the card and studied it for a minute. It simply confirmed what he had told her before but only now remembered. He was a private investigator and his name was Cal Evans. Fine. Great. Exactly what she needed on a day like today--a freakin’ private investigator sitting up in her apartment. “What can I do for you, Mr. Evans?” He smiled at her and for a moment she had to remind herself to breathe. She didn’t like noticing how well built he was, or how soft his brown eyes were or how the stray strand of sun-kissed hair seemed to constantly fall in his eyes so he had to push it away. “I’m trying to find out who killed Carmen Duvet.” That statement brought her crashing back to reality. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Since you are presenting that as if the answer is not a foregone conclusion, I assume you don’t think I did it.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d ask. Did you?” “Screw you.” He smiled. “Maybe in time.” Jerk. “Not even in your dreams.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m only interested in the truth. Now, if that sends your ass to the big house, I guess I can live with that, but if you didn’t do it, the only thing my investigation will do is set you free.” She looked him in the eye but it felt as if the floor beneath her feet had suddenly shifted two feet to the right. She was tired of the sparing and the snapping. Pumpkin was tired too. She sat down in the nearest chair. “I didn’t do it,” she said. “Yes, I was there when the police arrived and like every fool you’ve ever seen in every stupid suspense movie or heroine in jeopardy film I touched the knife. But I’m not being charged with stupidity. I’m being charged with cold, calculated murder and that I did not do.” “Give me something, Heather. I need a lead here. Lets say, for the moment, we will both agree that you didn’t do it. Give me your guess about who did.” For a moment her mind careened back to the image of Bryan at Carmen’s door. Damn him. He was willing to let her swing so why couldn’t she just give him up. Why? Cal was staring at her. It was obvious that he thought she did know something. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have no clue who killed Carmen Duvet.” Cal exhaled. “I can help, Heather. But you have to let me.” She shook her head gently. It hurt. It hurt to hear someone who didn’t even know her offering to help when the people who supposedly loved her were either nowhere to be found or where cheering for the other side. “I have nothing to tell you. I didn’t really know her.” “Why were you in her room then?” “Happenstance?” “Remember, I saw you that night. You were really upset. Why?” Heather hit the arm of her chair with the palm of her hand. “Why don’t you back off and stop acting like I’m stupid. There is no way I should be having this conversation with you. Especially without my lawyer present.” He squatted in front of her and touched her hand with the tip of his finger. “We got off to a kind of rocky start but I’m not trying to do you in. That’s not what this is about. Do you at least believe that?” For a moment, she looked him in the eye and the genuine concern she saw there startled her. She hated being like this. Hated feeling so damn grateful for even a hint of kindness. This had to stop. Right now. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Why were you there?” “What?” “I just realized something. Chalk it up to self-centered arrogance, something I am very good at, but it’s taken this long for an interesting fact to slip into my consciousness.” He stood up and stepped back. “What are you talking about?” “It just dawned on me that all those times I ran into you, all those times I thought you were stalking me, you were actually tracking Carmen Duvet. Now, why don’t you tell me exactly why you were doing that? She wasn't dead then.” He sucked his teeth and glanced off to the side. She smiled. Gotcha. There was a knock at the door but she ignored it. Cal glanced at her. “Don’t you think you better get that?” “Not really. This is far more interesting than anything or anyone at that door.” “Get the door, Heather. Or I’ll get it for you.” She stood up slowly. “Fine, but don’t you go anywhere. Hear?” He narrowed his eyes. She swung open the door without brothering to check the peephole. Big mistake. “I guess it’s true, huh?” She forced her heart to stop acting stupid. She blocked the doorway and let a sheet of chilled steel frame itself to her body. “What do you want, Bryan?” “I…I… just needed to check on you. I heard Daddy Carl came through and…” “My father has not seen me, has not talked to me, has not checked on me, nor sent anyone to do anything for me. He, and you too, can go to hell.” Treyscott tightened his lips and stared at her then pressed the palm of his hand against the door. “We need to talk, Heather.” “I think not.” “Look, damnit, I’m not the one who--" “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it, you lying hypocritical jerk.” “What are you talking about?” “Go away. Stay away. Forget you even know my name.” He squared his jaw and stared at her. “No. Not going to happen. Not going anywhere. We have to talk this out.” “No. We do not.” “Stop being such a spoiled bitch,” he said and pushed on the door. It swung out of her hand and he moved to walk around her but suddenly he stopped just as she felt the heat of Cal’s body close behind her. “The lady told you to leave.” “Who the hell are you?” “Someone the lady wants in her apartment. And that seems to separate me from you.” Bryan looked at her but she averted her eyes. She just wanted him to go away. She heard him exhale forcefully. “This isn’t over, Heather.” She looked up at him. “Yes, it is. I meant what I said at the jail. So stay away from me.” He looked at her with such pained confusion that it almost took her breath away. Almost. She stepped back and Cal moved to the side then grabbed the door and swung it shut. She finally exhaled. Cal turned and looked at her. “That was Bryan Treyscott. The quarterback.” She shrugged. “Yeah.” “Damn. He’s the one at the track. Damn. Never made the connection.” “What are you getting at?” “Where’s he from originally? I thought I picked up the hint of an accent.” What the hell? “I don’t know. Louisiana, I think. What does that have to do with anything?” “Got to go, Heather.” “Wait a minute. What about …” He winked at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back. Probably when you least expect it.” Why didn’t that idea make her want to puke?
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose FAN FICTION SLIDESHOWS
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