Theft of Trust

By Lujira Cooper

When Detective Moore goes to the Sagebrush and finds attorney Arnold Reynolds dead and dishonored she knows this case is trouble. His most recent high profile case involved Reverend Donald Ridgeway whose community-mindedness has a sinister ulterior motive. For over twenty-five years Ridgeway has avoided justice. All is fine until his associates start disappearing and dying. Is it an elaborate revenge plot or just garden-variety murders made to look like something else?
An overabundance suspects abound. Could it be Baker in love with her partner's wife? How about the wife and Baker? May be the wife of the reverend? By the time the case is solved Moore will have had to question her own sense of justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 27, 2009
• ISBN: 9780595620432

Lujira Cooper

I have had a lot of friends who have suffered sexual abuse. It has become a personal crusade to let the world know how they've been affected. I live in Brooklyn, NY. Currently, I am a telefundraiser for a national organization. In my past I wrote newsletters about jazz for PUMPKINs and JAZZ 966 two popular venues in Brooklyn

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Detective Riana Moore stared at Lawson, the last member the gray suited wall of deacons, of The Temple of the Lost Flock, huff and puff to his seat. She only smiled as he passed her and snarled, What the hell are you doing here? The short, balding and a bit heavy man rolled on by without waiting for an answer. She smiled. With him it will never end. She watched him speak to the retired yet still powerful Judge Allen as he slumped down next to Dr. Anthony Joseph Ridgeway. Lawson played with his tie and looked nervously around the Queens County courtroom.

The jury shuffling in with heads down and expressionless drew her attention. The sticky, non-moving August heat in the courtroom could not diminish the spear of cold that suddenly shot up her spine. They didn’t think he was guilty. Once again Donald Ridgeway had escaped justice. Twenty-five years and he was still free to prey upon young girls. With this knowledge, she looked for Marcella Watson and her weepy mother Antonia. They were nowhere to be seen. The testimony changing witness, Marcella Watson, had decided the trial and now was absent for the verdict. What the hell gives with this? She remembered ex-partner Rick Davis’ words, He’s not the man people think and the prosecution’s going to blow this case. She knew now he was right. As her mind flashed back, she remembered four-day adjournment. She could still hear Judge Thorn saying, It’s late in the day and I think we should pick this up on Tuesday. Does the prosecution have any objection? Davis stomped from the courtroom when the prosecution had said, No. With Marcella still being questioned, it had been too much for him to bear. Now she knew why he’d left so abruptly. Knowing the outcome and as chilling as it was she watched the family and the ladies brigade led by Sister Barnett sitting behind the granite wall.

Moore watched the white-clothed sisters of the church. Off to side sat the black clad former church matriarch Julia Louise Ridgeway. She sat ramrod straight and was flanked by, her children, Mark and Gina. Day after day they’d sat there alone never part of the in group. Moore watching them daily realized there was an unnerving detachment. They were always distant never speaking to the sisters or even acknowledging their presence. Why had she and the children come? Knowing the history Moore felt it wasn’t to support the great Ridgeway. She’d seen that frozen look before. People knowing someone was guilty but couldn’t say so. The haunted look of Gina Ridgeway Browne told Moore she had also been one of the ’angels.’

Eyes forward, never looking right or left, Julia Louise and her children had sat motionless until the announcement of the unexpected four-day adjournment. Neither the proceedings nor the press clamoring for statements had bothered them. But the adjournment had. That day her shoulders dropped. Mark and Gina looked at their mother in shock and anger. Questions played about their faces. Watching them, Moore knew they understood justice was truly blind. Twenty-five years ago Julia Louise instantly knew the truth when the reverend was accused of crimes against children. Julia Louise knew then and she knows now. Why had she said nothing back then?

Mary Calhoun, reporter for the Rockaway Monitor, sat in the back of the courtroom taking notes. Nothing escaped her view. Would the jury finally convict or would Ridgeway slip through the cracks again? For five weeks the trial had consumed her every hour. Now it was judgment day. Uneasiness crawled in her stomach. Looking at juror six, she knew instantly Ridgeway had been acquitted. She would have to find out more about him and how he’d been corrupted. Right now her thoughts turned to the jury and the victims. How blind could they be? Even without Watson’s testimony, there was enough evidence to convict. Knowing the outcome, she was drawn to the victims and their families. All who’d been part of the Ridgeway terror sat wax-like, waiting and unaware of the shaft coming. The room became smaller and hotter. The over-sized whirring fans exploded in her ears. Forcing herself to concentrate, she watched the victims. Who’d react first? Would it be the Williams girls, Tammie & Lea? Could it be Marie MacThomas who shielded her child Lynnette? How about Jewell and Lisa Conroy, dressed in black and holding hands? Calhoun thought it most likely to be an overwrought Sara Jones who sat holding her daughter Terrie’s picture. She looked for Marcella Watson the witness whose perjured testimony had tilted the trial in Ridgeway’s favor. She and her teary-eyed mother Antonia would be the best for an interview. They weren’t there. Now here’s a story. First, Marcella changes her testimony now she’s not here for the verdict. Something was definitely wrong. Judge Thorn interrupted her thoughts,

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury have you reached a verdict?

We have, your honor.

Will the defendant please rise? Turning he asks, How does the jury find?

On count one of the indictment, we find the defendant not guilty.

Sarah Jones screamed, How could you? Murderer. You’ll pay. I swear it.

Remove that woman from the court. Another outburst and I’ll clear the court room, snapped Thorn, now will the jury continue.

Moore smiled, as not guilty was read for the other six charges. He’d done it. Was it only Marcella’s change in testimony? No there was something else. Moore watched juror number six leaving. Who had gotten to him? She noticed the others didn’t look too happy. What happened in there? Rushing from the courtroom, Moore felt this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Ridgeway, the self-proclaimed leader of The Flock. I must find Rick. How the hell did he know? He must be angrier than a bear in a briar patch. Calhoun, stocky and muscular, blocked her escape. What do you think of the verdict?

Moore measured her words. It’s funny a woman like Martha Stewart is convicted yet Ridgeway manages an acquittal. Makes one wonder about justice.

Moore found Rick in a dark corner of Pearl’s bar. Head down, staring into an empty glass, he muttered, How could they have been so stupid?

Never a diplomat, she asked, Rick, how the hell did you know?

Shaking his alcohol soaked head, he slurred, Get me a drink and I’ll tell you.

You don’t need another drink.

Bitch, if you want to know then get me a drink.

She ordered. She and Davis had been partners for five years and never snapped at each other. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him. He took a gulp and banged the table, I told them Watson was the weakest link. Sure she was the oldest but also the weakest.

Why do you say this?

Damn, Ri, I thought you were smart. Don’t you realize Antonia and Marcella are still part of the church? They were too approachable.

Didn’t Rogers remove them?

He said he tried to but they wouldn’t go.

And he wouldn’t change his focus.

You got it, girl. Like LA relying on a video.

Didn’t you try to tell him?

Yeah, but you know what he said?

No.

Since she’d been molested the longest she could give the most accurate picture.

That would seem correct. You said they were still part of the church. Do you think he’s still sleeping with her?

And her mother. There’s competition there. One day it will erupt violently.

Rick, you can’t believe that. Marcella’s only twelve.

Ri, she’s twelve going on 60. Her mother should have protected her. She didn’t for whatever reason. Somehow Marcella is going to retaliate.

Against her mother?

Maybe. She was the one person who should have protected her and didn't. As matter of fact, her mother hurt her. She knows more than some adults. Just watch. But there’s more…,as he banged on the bar for another round, she was very different when she recanted. She glared at Lawson but never looked at Ridgeway. I wonder what he did to her and her mother."

You think Lawson forced her to recant?

I do. Back to Marcella, she’s biding her time and it’s going to be ugly.

Thanks, we need to talk more about this but not today. Now let’s get you home. I think you should take some time off.

Someone’s going to kill that bastard. I might.

Shaking him, she said, Stop letting the liquor talk for you. You have too much time in to do something that stupid.

Yeah, you’re right. But…

"I know. Twenty-five years later and he’s still getting away with it. But there’s more to it than Marcella. Something happened in that jury room. Even with her changing her story I’d expect a hung jury not an acquittal. We need to talk but not now. Let’s get you home."

He only nodded.

As she maneuvered him out to a cab, they ran smack into the ever-zealous reporter. Through gritted teeth. Moore said to Rick, She’s everywhere. Watch what you say.

Hey, Davis, what’s your take on the verdict?

With a slur, he replied, "It sucks.

Think they’ll try again?

Forcing himself to stand up he snapped, Ms. Calhoun, with all due respect… you know the law. He was acquitted. And that’s all I’ll say now.

Moore, why were you there?

Pushing Davis into the cab, she shot back," Hoping to see justice but after twenty-five years it’s still denied."

As they rode off Calhoun muttered, Yes it was, as she planned her next attack.

The celebration at Randolfo’s was large. The elegant and spacious Oak Room had been transformed to accommodate Ridgeway’s victory well-wishers. The dark paneling sparkled from the light of crystal chandeliers. The rearranged tables exposed the plush deep red carpet. Reynolds of Reynolds, Mott and Baker basked in the glow. Ridgeway walked around shaking hands. His voice booming, I knew we could do it, as he put his arm around the shoulders of Arnold Reynolds.

Reverend, you must be psychic. How’d you know that kid would change her mind if left over the weekend?

With a sly smile, Ridgeway replied, I have my ways, Arnold.

I guess it was just luck she went away for those days?

Arnold, maybe luck had nothing to do with it, he whispered with a smirk.

You didn’t tamper with a witness did you? Wait, don’t tell me. I can’t afford to know, as he walked away.

Calhoun scouted the small crowd, catching snatches of conversations, and seeing who was or wasn’t present. The complement of people who’d come to cheer the victory was small. It included members of the church and some personal friends. Everyone wanted to be around a winner. Enjoying the great food of Randolfo’s she heard, Damn, Arnold, how could you defend him. The man is a dog.

Edna, everyone deserves the best defense and he’s been good to us.

So what? What happened to that witness? Something’s not right, sweetie, and you know it. Get away from him. He’s dangerous. And juror six looked like a cat with its paw in the cream. Something’s off here.

Laughing weakly, Arnold Reynolds took his wife’s hands and said, You worry too much. I don’t know about Watson. What’s wrong? Don’t you think I’m good? Besides, it’s all over now so we can get back to our lives.

Arn, you’re good but…

What?

Even you have said, Mott and Baker are better trial attorneys. So why didn’t either one of them take it on? Arnie, where are they now? Something’s not right.

I…well…they didn’t want it. I don’t know, he replied sheepishly.

Arnold, something tells me there was more to you taking this case than you’re telling, she said turning to leave.

Giving her a peck on the cheek, he replied quietly, Honey, it’s all over now.

Is it?

Calhoun watched as Edna Reynolds seem to float out the door. So she wasn’t happy. How interesting. Calhoun re-directed her attention to the party and its celebrants. She watched Lawson who seemed uncomfortable in the surroundings. This was not his place. A burger joint or the Majestic Lounge suited him better. She made a mental note but now her interest was on the celebrants. Searching the room she didn’t see Ridgeway’s family nor the major players or Reynolds Mott and Baker anywhere. What kept them away? Seeing Reynolds off to himself, she approached.

Mr. Reynolds, is your client coated with Silverstone. Things just slide off him.

Ms. Calhoun, I work hard to get my clients justice. I don’t appreciate your… snide remarks.

Calm down. But it was strange how that witness suddenly couldn’t remember a thing. Pull rabbits from a hat too?

She was a weak witness.

What did you do to get her to change her mind?

Ms. Calhoun, I had nothing to do with her changing her testimony, he snapped, she was too open to suggestion. So keep your innuendos to yourself or I’ll sue you and the paper for slander & libel. Now I wish you’d leave.

I don’t believe you would tamper with a witness but you’ll still pay. The victims feel the system let them down and you’re the next most visible person after your client, she whispered, grabbing Randolfo’s fabulous canapes, and you wouldn’t dare sue Browne. He’s your client’s son-in-law, she hissed.

I don’t like being threatened.

Snarling Calhoun replied, I am not. I…think you understand what I’m saying. Even your wife thinks something was wrong. An acquittal. Think about it.

An ecstatic Ridgeway approached before Reynolds could respond, Ms. Calhoun, getting the lowdown on how my great attorney turned the tables on the prosecution?

No, telling him he’s going to pay dearly for defending you.

Ridgeway glared at her then turned abruptly and called for security.

Remove her at once. She’s not welcome here.

Yes, sir, replied the guard grabbing her arm.

Calhoun knocked the guard down and shouted, Funny with all this success your family’s not here to celebrate. Also, where are your partners Baker and Mott and your family? I wonder why. Maybe I’ll ask them. And what happened in that jury room? My readers have a right to know.

Get her out of here now. Don’t you dare go near my family, shouted Ridgeway as Reynolds grabbed him.

What happened in that jury room, she shot as she left.

Leaving Randolfo’s, she started to go and talk to the missing partners but was struck by another idea. Since Ridgeway and all his cronies were at the party why not see Marcella and her mother. That was the story. She knew the duo were at the church complex. She called Mrs. MacThomas. I’m coming over to get your take on the verdict. Will you please inform the guard. Getting an affirmative, she left for the complex. After her visit with MacThomas, she knocked on Watson’s door. Mrs. Watson looked shocked and snapped, We have nothing to say to you or any other member of the press.

Look I know this has been a trying time for you both but people want to know what happened.

Mrs. Watson said quietly, My daughter was mistaken.

Who put those stories in her head, Calhoun asked softly.

I don’t know. It’s done and we’d like to get back to a normal life.

I understand your pain and…

You understand nothing. During the entire trial all you did was tear down our sweet reverend. Your reporting, if you want to call it that, was venomous. Never once did you print a kind word about how he’s started a children’s shelter, or a center for battered women. You didn’t once talk about the kitchen he’s opened to feed the homeless in this area.

Mrs. Watson, the trial wasn’t about his good deeds but allegations about his molesting children. My reports were straight-forward. Even my editorials only attacked the allegations. If true he should be convicted. No matter the good he’s done. Does he beat women also? Looking at you I wonder. Is that why you didn’t show up for the verdict? It would have been too apparent why Marcella changed her story.

Watson ignored the comment and continued with, There never should have been a trial. Reverend Ridgeway is a good man. He works to offset the sin the casinos have brought in. He works to keep people in their homes. He works to find jobs for those without them. I know him too well to believe the stories you vicious people write. The bruises have nothing to do with him.

Before Calhoun could answer the door slammed. Leaving she laughed. Oh, what a fool. Or was she? Seems she spouted a speech that was well prepared. But by whom?

Gina and Mark sat in the kitchen watching their mother. Ever since the verdict she’d been very quiet. The late afternoon heat and their aversion to air-conditioning made them keep the door open. This combination didn’t give them a chance to avoid the overly imposing Sister Barnett sweeping in.

Mother Ridgeway, why aren’t you out rejoicing in your husband’s victory?

Gina and Mark winced, as the robust Sister continued, It doesn’t look good for you not to even show your face. It was a masterful victory over the jealous forces.

I’m not much for parties. Let him enjoy the glory. I’m not sure it will last.

Mother Ridgeway, she squealed, How can you say that? It’s a victory for the church. People have been trying to stop the reverend for years. That child and her mother lied. You see that now. He’s a good man.

Quietly, Julia Louise responded, Do you really think they were lying? If you do then you’re bat blind. Barnett, you’ve been so busy sucking up to the men especially Donald you can’t see, hear or feel. The lives of six girls are ruined and you think the acquittal was a victory. Not for them it isn’t.

How can you say such things? He, the church have done much for the community. He’s a good man.

Sister, I suppose you know that, Julia Louise snapped.

Now, Mother Ridgeway, that’s unkind.

No more than you coming over pretending to be a friend. Stop meddling in my life. I would say stay away from Donald but I don’t really care. You, sister and I use that term loosely are a squat, raggedy mouthed, toothless, hairless and charmless woman. You’ve been with more men from the church than….

Huffing and puffing, sister Barnett replied, Well, I never.

Oh yes, you have. You’re a deceitful, lazy, man-stealing hypocrite. Every member of the women’s auxiliary hates you. It’s the men that keep you around. Yet when anything big comes up seems funny they forget to invite you. I bet you were not around when they discussed how to manipulate the trial. Sister, you’re good enough to sleep with but not be seen with. One day something’s going to happen to wake you up. Now get out.

Barnett barreled out the door nearly knocking down Malcolm Browne who entered the kitchen to find the three laughing heartily.

Seems like I missed something.

Sure did sweetie, Julia Louise said as she kissed him on the cheek.

Gina noted the twinkle in his eyes as her mother retold the story. He turned to the quiet Mark and said, Your mother has never been one to bite her tongue, has she?

Softly Mark replied, No, never, once she knew the facts. Malcolm let me ask you something, how did he win?

Mark, I don’t know. I’m waiting to see what my reporter Mary Calhoun has to say about that. She’s been a bulldog. It was as if she was driven by it.

Yes, I’ve read her editorials. Her intensity was endless. Her questions were probing and her analysis was quite disturbing, Julia Louise said.

Gina chimed in, Honey, what do you know about her?

Not much. She’s a damn good reporter. I got great reports from her previous editors. She said her parents died when she was young and she was adopted. I give her credit for taking on this story. No one else wanted it, he said, taking a bite of Julia Louise’s homemade doughnuts. Mouth full he continued, Calhoun was probably extremely harsh because just before the trial…right after the indictment she did a piece on pedophiles. It took a lot out of her. I looked at some pictures and film she found and got sick. She’s been with the paper for five years and has been able to write some enlightening pieces. As an interviewer she knows the buttons to push.

Julia Louise said, Her pieces are really intense even the profiles. If she wanted to interview me I think I’d run.

Yeah, I read some of her pieces from New Orleans and Tampa. She really delves in deep into a story. Her articles on the homeless showed knowledge from spending three months out in the streets. You run, I don’t believe that. Besides, she could probably charm you into telling her all the family secrets.

Smiling, Julia Louise said, But son, her intensity is searing.

Well from what she’s been willing to say, her life was tough. She’s very caught up in righting injustice. Her stories in Tampa and the ‘Big Easy’ led to some major changes. Her ability to charm is what allows her to write such great pieces.

Gina said, Malcolm, all that may be true but she still scares me. When she looks at…dad…I see arrows of hate.

Well, honey, maybe it’s the acts not the man.

You don’t believe that anymore than I do, Julia Louise said, banging a cup on the table. "She knows more about Donald than

we think."

Now, Mother Ridgeway, don’t get mad at me. I know the history. It’s just, his voice trailed off as he looked at his wife Gina.

Taking a deep breath, Julia Louise calmed down. Looking at her son-in-law and her children, she sighed. Under her breath, she muttered, When will it ever stop? How many more lives will he ruin?

Malcolm walked over and put his arm around her. He raised her face to his and solemnly said, Probably when he’s dead.

It will never end, Mark said quietly.

Julia Louise put on another pot of coffee.

Just then Calhoun hollered, Anyone home?

Mark let her in. Hi all, she said cheerfully.

What do you want, Julia Louise asked gruffly.

Turning on the electric charm that was part of her arsenal, Calhoun said,Look, I only want for my readers your reaction to the verdict. You were there everyday and heard the testimony. Did you think he’d be acquitted?

No, I didn’t. But that’s our justice system.

Gina said, You wrote some very serious stuff about him. Is there some reason for such a personal attack?

It wasn’t personal, she lied, but if even half those acts are true it is horrific. I was condemning the acts not the man and if you read my editorials you’d know that. It was unfortunate the jury couldn’t see that. How do you feel about your father’s verdict?

Gina looked first at her husband and then her mother. She shrugged. This was not something she could discuss at least not with an outsider. The law spoke so let’s leave it at that.

To no one in particular Calhoun asked, Do you think justice was served?

Ha, Malcolm snorted, Justice for him, but don’t quote me, would be to see him tied down in the desert at night, eyelids taped open and his chest slit wide open with honey poured on him and at noon when he’s blind and nearly mad let loose some red ants. And even that’s too good for him, Taking a breath he persisted, I’m sorry but I cannot believe all those girls lied. No way.

Calhoun looked at her boss in surprise. The vehemence was a volcano erupting. She knew there was history but….. She said, I think I have my story. Make sure you read it. Somewhere it will say torture is too good for him."

Julia Louise asked, Ms. Calhoun, I know you’re a great reporter, I’ve read your pieces but why did you take on this story? Even Malcolm doesn’t know

Mrs. Ridgeway, I hoped to see justice served. She took a big drink of coffee. But if it was or wasn’t I wanted my readers to realize how dangerous men like your husband can be. I worked six months on my feature on pedophiles and it wasn’t pretty. I spoke to Morgan Winthrop and other eminent psychiatrists and they all told me there was no cure. I even spoke briefly to Dr. Anthony Joseph Ridgeway and even he hinted it was hopeless. The more I found out the angrier I got, she said taking another sip. My this is good. Besides I’ve a number of friends who’ve been molested and it’s not pretty. They suffer too much and it never ends. Do you know how many dates they refuse? How hard it is for them to make friends? Molestation is the worst crime because children’s minds are forever damaged. Unfortunately, justice was not served the jury caved in. I wonder why.

That’s bothering me too but juror number six seemed to be a force to reckon with. Malcolm quietly said,

Son, how does one juror force an acquittal? That seems really odd.

Calhoun shook hands. Exiting she threw out, Bought and paid for.

Gina shivered, getting a cup of coffee, she exclaimed, I’m even more afraid of her now.

Taking his wife’s hand, Malcolm Brown said with emotion he didn’t feel, Calhoun’s just intense. Well at least her next assignment is lighter. Bondage.

Bondage, Julia Louise said softly, raising an eyebrow.

Malcolm laughed. Just kidding. I asked her to work an extensive bunch of profiles as soon as the trial was over.

Malcolm, Julia Louise asked, "Do you really think that bunch will talk to her.

Yes, I do. Now that the trial is over they’ll want every bit of good pub they can get. And if the right reverend speaks to her even Lawson will."

Gina interjected, That juror. Who got to him and how?

Malcolm responded with, I don’t know but it must have been very serious to cause an acquittal.

Mark raised and eyebrow. Malcolm continued, To force an acquittal would mean one had to convince all the others to agree. I cannot see that unless it was something very serious.

Julia Louise sighed. Going back to my husband and Calhoun, it’s more than that. Trust me. Son, your reporter has a special agenda. Something has been simmering for a long time and when it comes out it’s going to be very ugly.

The three of them just looked at her.

Chapter 1

Early morning of Thanksgiving Eve, the sleepy voice answered, Yeah, Who’s this?

Detective, The southern drawl could not be mistaken. Even with thirty years in New York Captain Richards still sounded Alabama. I called Moore. She’s waiting at End House for you to pick her up. Get to the Sagebrush motel. Seems Reynolds, Ridgeway’s esteemed attorney got himself murdered.

What, Captain?

Reynolds was murdered. Pick up Moore and get over there.

Dragging his body to the shower, Walt turned on the water and called Moore. He wanted to slap her. How could she sound so damn cheery so early? Instead he said, I’ll be over in a few moments.

I’ll be waiting outside for you. This is not going to be easy.

Don’t tell me you’re starting with those feelings. Half-heartedly, he added, Maybe it’s very simple.

You can’t believe that. Just the fact it’s Reynolds will make it difficult. A man like that creates many enemies. He’s a lawyer you know.

Riding to the Sagebrush, Walt decided to take a personal approach since his partner never discussed a case prior to seeing the crime scene. How are you so damn cheerful this early?

I was up already working on a special meditation and training program given me by Mikori Hayama, my sensei. It helps to relieve stress.

You’re still working with him? He must be nearly eighty.

No, only seventy but when I can do some of the things he can, I’ll be satisfied. He keeps me on track.

When do you find time to work with him? Between work, the club, and your community kids, how do you find the hours?

We have a schedule. You should start some training. You’re getting flabby.

Don’t start. You sound like my wife and daughter. You know my girl is working with one of your students?

Yea, and she’s good.

Ri, I know you don’t discuss cases but isn’t Lawson working late this week? How come Richards called us?

The call came to him directly from a Dr. Shaw. We’ll ask him about that later.

It was surprisingly quiet when Moore and Anderson reached the Sagebrush. Only the roaring of the ocean and early morning mist greeted them. They both knew this could be a dangerous case. The death of so prominent a person would make the mayor want answers quickly. As they entered Moore caught sight of Calhoun. Turning to Walt, she said, Damn, this woman has a nose for news.

Detectives, What happened to Reynolds?"

I don’t know anything yet. So don’t even bother me. By the way, how did you hear about this?

I have my ways. Haven’t seen you since the Monitor profile after the Ridgeway trial. Why were you really there? You never said.As I told you then, to see justice. My reason hasn’t changed.

Well, then detective, we both were mistaken. It seems the jury was blind.

Yeah, well that’s the price of our system.

Upon entering they met the medical examiner. What can you tell us? asked Moore looking at a crossbow arrow protruding from the chest of a half-naked Reynolds.

Not much. An arrow is a rather odd weapon to stab someone. He must have been entertaining. He was still tied to a chair. Pictures taken. Forensics is taking the linen to see if they can find out anything.

"How do you know he was stabbed?

There’s no exit wound. If a bow was used the arrow would have gone through him. Seems his heraldry got him killed.

You may be right, said Moore thinking of the Calhoun article she’d read after the trial.

Moore and Walt looked at each other shaking their heads. Moore whispered, The mayor and the captain are going to want this cleaned up quickly. Trust me it won’t happen. Funny Calhoun is the only press person here. It obviously didn’t go out over the radio.

You think there’s more to this. I’ve worked with you long enough to know that’s not good…you… think this relates to…Ridgeway?

She waved him off without answering. I damn sure do. Who the hell would use a crossbow arrow? She walked around the small studio-like room. The chess game drew her attention. A queen pawn mate. Now that’s interesting. But it was the note that struck her. She read it without picking it up. Tapping Anderson, she pointed to it. His furrowed brows let her know he understood the gravity. This was more than it seemed.

The young night clerk looked anxious as they approached. Knowing most people feel intimidated by the police, Moore said softly, Do you want a drink or something?

No, I’m all right.

What’s your name, son?

Trevor…Trevor Smith.

I’m detective Moore and this is Anderson. How did you happen to find him?

His wife called the desk.

Why?

Said she’d tried the room and his cell and got no answer. Wanted me to check and see if he was there.

His wife? Are you sure?

Haltingly, he replied, Yes, she calls sometimes when he stays here. I know her voice.

OK. What did she say? Exactly.

Go check on Mr. Reynolds, see if he’s gone for his run.

At 4 am?

She said it made him work better. And I know sometimes he does run early.

Is that all?

No, she told me to tell him to call her.

So what happened when you came in?

I knocked on the door. He didn’t answer so…I opened the door.

Was there anyone else in the room?

I didn’t take time to look. I slammed the door and ran to the office and called Dr. Shaw, he’s…the house doctor.

OK, Trevor, could you see the room from the desk?

No.

So someone could have left without you knowing?

Uh, yes.

Thanks. That’s all for now. If you think of anything, give me a call. By the way was he alone?

I don’t know but I don’t think so. Usually he had company twice a night.

Do you know who?

At first it would be one of the ‘ladies’ and then a black clad maid.

Did you see either tonight?

No, but a maid’s wagon was near the end of the walkway.

Thanks. Tell Dr. Shaw to come in, please.

While they waited for the doctor, Moore looked at the bagged articles. One that really struck her was an engraved bracelet. The card with it read To my KC baby with love forever, AR. Walt arched an eyebrow and said isn’t the wife’s name Edna?"

So I’ve been told.

Walt mused, Who would have thought our esteemed attorney was into something kinky? It had to be someone he knew. Let’s a lot of folks out but leaves quite a few as suspects.

"Partner, you got that right.

Moore looked more closely at the bracelet and whistled. Whoever KC is, Reynolds thought much of him …or her. Just look at this bracelet. Platinum, very plain with just the inscription ‘to KC, with love. AR’ this was an easy ten grand.

Anderson shouldn’t have been surprised Moore recognized it as platinum since she wore a bracelet he’d always thought was silver. It wasn’t, still looked like sterling to him.

As they were examining the bracelet and card, Shaw, a little thin man, entered fiddling with his key chain.

Moore introduced herself and her partner, Dr., what time did you get the call?

About 4:15.

Did anything, anything at all strike you when you entered the room?

Other than a half-naked man sitting in a chair with an arrow sticking out from his chest. No.

Moore grinned, Did you call the police from the room?

Yes, but on my own phone…I know better than to touch anything.

Did you see anyone in the pathway?

A maid. I thought it was Reynolds’ personal maid. I called to her but she didn’t answer.

Did you see her face?

No.

Reynolds had a personal maid? Was she on staff?

"No, she came nights when he was here. Seemed kind of strange but….

But what?

I don’t know. This one seemed different.

How so?

It just…the legs and …the walk

What about them?

Shaw wrinkled his brow and fingered his key chain. The other ‘maid’ had the legs of a dancer. She floated across the floor.

Why did you call Captain Richards and not the station?

Publicity. Didn’t want a gaggle of reporters running all over. Besides I knew Richards was on duty.

Thanks, doc. If you think of anything, give me a call.

Moore and Walt walked around the scene again. Now that the initial questions were over she looked around the room. It was a large two-room suite with a shower in one section and a refrigerator near the bed. The room was saturated with heraldry items. The king mated chess set sat on a hand-carved table. There was a broken lance on the floor. A small knight statue sat in one corner. Arthurian Roundtable goblets sat on a table while a shield with heraldry hung upon the wall. The small fridge sat open with five tagged bottles of wine, some food from Randolfo’s, a box of chocolates from Éclair Francaise and water. On the floor there was an empty champagne bottle. The carpet around it soaked. In the closet was a size fourteen French maid’s uniform. A large elegantly carved file cabinet stood open against the wall. Moore stopped one of the officers with, "let me see the pictures and make sure someone gets a piece of this carpet.

What are you looking for?

Walt, do you see any files in these pictures? Do you see any papers?

Walt shook his head.

Then why was he here. There’s nothing to indicate he was working. And look at the tag on the champagne bottle. ‘From K.C. with love, always.’ Where did that bottle come from? All the other bottles are wine red and white but no champagne. I think the wife deserves our attention. And let’s not forget the bracelet. Especially the bracelet.

Moore went to the chair where he’d been found. It still held pieces of tape. She looked at the pictures taken. No sign of struggle. He looked drugged. This was definitely someone he knew or thought he did. She shook her head.

Ri, what’s up?

Just look at this scene. Champagne, food for two, a maid’s uniform and wine. Now I definitely think the wife deserves our attention. Before they left Moore asked to see the card again. You have been tried and found guilty. For your crimes you are to be executed. Today is judgment day. May your soul never rest. Turning to Walt she remarked, Wonder how many of these there are?

He looked at her quizzically.

Walt, this is no accident. The card is handwritten in Old English. Now how many of those could you ask a printer to make? Also the bulls-eye. Trust me, this is a message.

He sighed. Looking at the card he knew she was right and that was the scary thing.

As they were leaving, Moore asked for Trevor Smith. He came running out.

Yes?

Did you call Mrs. Reynolds back?

No. I forgot. Should I?

No. We’ll take care of it. Thanks.

Calhoun accosted them before they could drive off. Detective Moore, what can you tell me?

Suppressing an urge to choke her, Moore snapped, It seems the esteemed Reynolds was stabbed to death.

Do you think he knew the person?

Ms. Calhoun, I respect your intelligence, Moore hissed, so please respect mine. A stabbing implies closeness.

Sorry, any idea about the murderer’s identity?

No, but it seems there was a maid in the vicinity who may have seen something. That’s all I have to say for now.

Calhoun started to ask another question. Moore pushed past her and saw a small almost invisible smile. Walking to Walt’s car, Moore said, That woman is strong.

Chapter 2

Edna