Anthony DePaul Copyright  2005 by Anthony DePaul

Chapter Eleven

She felt his arms now as she sat under the warm shower, her knees pulled close to her chest. The vivid sensation of her orgasm induced by the relentless attack of her assailant humiliated her, seared her psyche like those punches delivered by a mad girl with pointy knuckles and a savage desire to beat and embarrass her in front of her friends. Guilt nagged at her still as to how and why she deserved such a thrashing. That old feeling echoed a timeless question. “Had she been such a bad girl?”

Waterlogged, she turned off the shower and sat in the quiet bathroom. The steamed mirror graciously hid her swollen face. She wrapped a towel around her shoulders and sat on the toilet seat.

There would never again be a private place for me. He will always be watching me from inside my brain.

She wrapped herself in another towel and a third around her head. The mirror cleared. She had a new face to meet the world, a humbler yet angry one.

Dorian sat downstairs at the kitchen table, his back to her. He rocked in a swaying motion, a trance like state that meant he was off in a world of his own. It also indicated that he was extremely angry and no doubt plotting his moves. She slipped into the bedroom and dressed quickly. She avoided the mirror fearful that the glass may reflect a diminished woman.

The sudden blast of a freighter’s horn from the Delaware River startled her. She had been oblivious to the honking horns and rumble of the awakening city that had slept through her horror. She had to deal with Marian and Estelle and the murder of her Mayor. The weight of the pending problems pressed upon her as though she were the mythical hero, Sisyphus, relentlessly but hopelessly pushing a rock up a hill. If she stopped, her burden would crush her but she was too tired to move.

Dorian stirred below. He was on the phone, talking clearly in a firm voice. Then he made another call. Then another. The war had begun.

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee beckoned her to descend to him. Her father could not wrap his arms around her but Dorian was here for her. The thought that the attacker had invaded her body and the sanctity of her and Dorian’s unborn child weakened her knees. She clutched the railing and edged one step at a time into the kitchen. She could not go to the police. ML would enjoy the story and would want to personally administer a rape kit.

Dorian deposited the phone on its hook as she entered the kitchen. “Are you up for some coffee?” asked Dorian.

She wobbled to the round, white oak kitchen table, a favorite she’d taken from her ancestral home. “Yes! Put a shot of VO in it. No arguments please.”

Dorian nodded, “Done. I’ll join you.”

He poured her coffee. The stubble on his chin looked as though he’d rubbed his chin with coffee grounds. A few beads of grey nicked through the day old growth.

“Thanks!” she said.

Dorian took her wrist gently. “We need to talk and to act. Are you up to listening?”

The coffee and VO warmed her to her stomach. “Absolutely.”

Dorian’s ability to lock out emotion in times of danger and crisis always amazed her. It was as if his mind froze his anger or fear into a gelid state while the computer in his brain churned data into information and information into a plan and a plan into action with lethal accuracy.

“I have been asking myself why they did not just kill us like any good thug would do. Then I remembered Spaventa’s letter. They only kill those who they cannot corrupt. That’s why they killed Lincoln. They could not corrupt him. The real estate deal I investigated tuned up empty. Linc was an honest man so they killed him and framed Estelle. We have an advantage. They never figured I’d find you. I am supposed to be shocked by an email with a video attachment that my server will no doubt have received by now. I am supposed to be angry and embarrassed while you are compromised. Power over the living is greater than the power to kill. They mean to recruit us. We will let them think they have won. Play along with them. Pretend that you are mortified and beaten gain their trust. Then, when they least expect it, we will crush them.”

Alice shook her head in disbelief. “You want me to act like a puppet?”

Dorian caressed her cheek softly but firmly. “I want us to dupe them. You and I cannot be seen together. We are splitsville, caput as man and woman.”

Dorian poured a second shot in a fresh cup of coffee. “This morning you need to summon your courage and go to Estelle in your capacity as ADA. My guess is that Marian has not reassigned the case. They want you on the case. While you were upstairs, I called Joe Kelly. He called Estelle who hired him as her attorney. Kelly then hired me as an independent investigator. The move puts you and I at odds with each other. That way they’ll not use you to get to me so you’ll be safer.”

Alice reached for another shot of VO but Dorian put his hand over the bottle. “Later, my love. You need all of your wits about you,” said Dorian. “If I am right, we are not the only people caught in this quicksand. I also want you to dig up the files on the death of Jerry Stern and the accident that killed Nate’s wife. And see if Estelle knows anything useful on Joseph Goodway, Grace Lord or Marian. I’ll dig up ML’s past though I already have a good idea how that bed bug became Commissioner.”

Alice took her cup in both hands like a kid drinking Ovaltine at the breakfast table.

“Estelle has something sexual on Marian. But the story is so old I doubt that it means much in these post Clinton times.”

The coffee royale grated on her parched throat. She coughed up half of it in a paper napkin. “They will kill us if they have to. Do you see why I don’t want to bring a child into a world full of crime and corruption. All day I see the scumbags laugh at us. The drug dealers like Moses kill with impunity. Now our Mayor is dead. Some beast invades my life, drugs me and uses me like I am a blow up doll. And to fight them, I have to risk my life. Why should I? Tell me, Dorian why I just don’t pack up my bags and move to Montana or the fucking desert. Why should I die in a futile effort to change a corrupt world?”

Dorian took both of her hands in his. “No one wants a child to be born into a city governed by the Philadelphes. No one wants to turn the streets over to Moses Powell and his thugs. But if we do not fight them, who will? Stop and think. Maybe Philly is only the tip of the iceberg. Maybe they have infiltrated the governments of five, ten or a hundred other cities. Christ, they are as much a threat to our way of life as Bin Laden. Help me fight them as if they were terrorists or Nazis. We have time to talk about the baby. Fight them! Don’t run. I need you!”

Dorian pulled her close to him. His heart thumped a hundred miles an hour while she felt only a numbing acceptance that he was right and she was right to agree with him though she doubted she could dress herself let alone conduct an interview of a murder suspect. Then she remembered that the girl who beat her did so because Alice had headed in the winning goal after the bigger girl slipped on the soggy field.

“That which does not kill me only makes me stronger,” she said.

He held her for a long moment. When he stepped back, she saw in him a stony will, a determination and a disregard for fear that seeped into her.

“Call me a cab,” she said. “I have to interview Estelle Miles.”

He shook his fist. “Yes, Madam ADA.”

She took off the towel around her head. “Kiss me, please.”

ML McLain puffed on his pipe outside the interview room door. He dropped a spent match on the floor. He did not see her until she stood so close the pipe nearly burned her. He looked through her clothes as though he had x-ray eyes. The leer sent a caterpillar crawling up her spine.

“Hello Commissioner. Fill me in before I see Estelle Miles.”

ML put up a hand that could grasp her entire head. “Mind yer tongue. Yer late.”

“Late for what? Has she confessed?”

ML bent the pipe to one side and spoke from the other side of his mouth. “She has hired a shanty shyster named Joseph Kelly, an old friend of yer boyfriend. Had ye been here sooner, we might have had a statement out of her. As it is, you’ll have to deal with the Papist. Kelly is a nasty runt he is, but we have two officers on the scene, a smoking gun, ballistics reports, gunshot residue and fingerprints on her hands. Enough goods to ship her to the pokey on the next bus.”

Alice sensed that he was holding back. “So why wasn’t she arraigned?”

“Good point. Yer a smart lass. Her lawyer demanded a drug test. He thinks she was under diminished capacity and he convinced Judge Moon to hold off until the tox screens results come back.”

Alice felt his beady eyes eager to inspect her. “I am going in. Turn off the tapes.”

ML bit on the pipe so hard it nearly popped out of his mouth. “No fooking way, with all due respect.”

Alice laid her briefcase aside and folded her arms across her chest. “If she is comfortable, I can build trust. If I go in as an adversary, Kelly will cut me off like he would a bad apple from a dead tree. Now, do you want a quick end to this affair or a year long televised soap opera on CNN and Fox and, as you would say, Sixty Fooking Minutes.”

ML flicked off the tape switch. “Yer a bundle of balls ye are. In with ye,” he said and opened the door.

Estelle sat motionless at a metal table, her hands folded in front of her. Alice had expected at least a smile or a gesture of recognition instead of the blank stare and cold scowl of an embarrassed but angry woman. Her hair hung straight and gnarly below her shoulders. The dull, overhead fluorescent light cast a pasty pallor across her that matched the white washed walls. The two-way mirror spread across the far wall.

Kelly greeted her with a handshake and a smile. Stocky as a fireplug but street- tough and courtroom smart beneath his choirboy veneer, Kelly was a rock inside a blue wool suit. He’d defended Dorian once against a frame up by a homicide cop. Any man Dorian trusted to defend him had the backbone of a lion.

“Hello Alice. My client is a bit pissed. Listen before you judge her. Are the tapes turned off?”

Alice glanced at the two-way mirror. “The tapes are off. Anything you say will not be used against you,” she said loudly.

Kelly nodded, “Thank you. Estelle, please tell Alice what you know.”

Estelle looked pasty, her smooth skin drawn as tight as leather. Red welts marked her wrists. Dressed in a frumpy sweater and loose jeans, she looked more like her hippie days at Penn than the wife of a Mayor.

“I don’t remember much. Linc was working late. I watched Jeopardy and then a rerun of Law and Order. Ironic I guess. After a while, I had some wine. There was a new cop on duty. I did not like him. I kind of remember him coming in so he could use the john. He looked like somebody stepped on his face or it was run over by a truck. Yes, that’s it. He was all pushed in. Anyway, he poured me a fresh glass of wine. The next thing I know, I am out or almost out. I seem to remember somebody undressing me. Then there was hot breath on my private parts. He was down there, the cop that is. Then I think Linc came in. I sort of remember something in my hand with another hand around mine. Then a loud noise. Or two. Then I passed out. God, how could this happen? Then the other cop came in. He was a big ugly with hair like a pumpkin. No wait. He came in with Linc. I am sorry but it is all so fuzzy. They say I shot Lincoln. They say the cops heard the shot. Then I was being dressed by somebody. I remember riding in a paddy wagon. The sirens pierced my ears like somebody put straight pins in them. There were lights flashing as the wagon drove down the Expressway. I know it was the expressway because Boat House row was on my left and the Art Museum was also on the left. Then I saw Billy Penn. I wanted to call him on my cell phone. That’s how out of it I was.”

Estelle paused, took a deep breath and then slunk into the chair. Her shoulders drooped and her arms hung listlessly at her side. Alice looked away. Right now Estelle looked like she did two hours ago.

“What do you think happened?” asked Alice.

Kelly sat next to Estelle. He put an arm around her. “Roofies. I defended a college kid at Penn State last month that dropped a couple little white Rohypnol pills in his girlfriend’s merlot and then invited four of his fraternity brothers to share her. The pills look like harmless aspirins but can fry your brain and wax your inhibitions into next week. In the right hands, you can manipulate the victim’s consciousness to any level you want. And booze only intensifies the drug’s reaction. I lost the case. I do not intend to lose this one. She is the victim of a set up or my name is Lee Harvey Oswald.”

Alice trembled from her throat to the pit of her stomach. “I see! Are you pleading diminished capacity?”

Kelly slammed the table top with the flat of his hand. “You did not hear me! This was a set up! We are pleading Not Guilty! And I will take her case to the media. I will make those two hoods disguised as cops sweat scotch and ML can stick his pipe up his butt and puff on it. This case sticks worse than sheep shit in Mayo.”

Alice could not help but laugh. “Did you kiss the Blarney stone for breakfast? Look, I can only go on the evidence. Have you hired a detective to assist you in uncovering new evidence?”

Kelly tilted his head aside to hide a smirk from the mirror. “Yes. Your Ex, Dorian Wilde has joined our team. He’ll get to the bottom of this caper or Saint Patrick is a Chinaman.”

Alice sat back. “Be careful Kelly. Saint Patrick may have been Italian.”

Kelly rose and squared his shoulders as though he was posing for the cameras. “Laugh at our defense if you must. But my client is innocent.”

Alice tapped her forefinger on the table. “Are you innocent?” asked Alice.

Estelle turned a dark scarlet. Her eyes narrowed into a cobra’s glare. “I would never hurt Lincoln. I am carrying his child.”

Alice’s prosecutorial antennae stood up. “What? Did he know? You never told me?”

Estelle dropped her chin then quickly raised it in defiance. “I found out yesterday morning when I took an early pregnancy test. I was waiting up to tell him last night. I planned to call you today and my old college sorority sisters. You and Grace and Marian were to all be godmothers. Now you are all against me!”

Estelle curled her fists. “I will fight for my child. I will fight all of you. You take a message to Marian. If I go down, so does she!”

Kelly put up a hand. “That is all that my client has to say. We expect the tox screen results to support our contention that she was drugged and set up. We are done. Please leave us alone.”

Holy shit!

Alice turned to leave. No wonder Estelle looked so different. She was no longer a scared woman, an easy target. She was a cornered mother. Whoever planned this scam never figured on her finding the courage to resist. “I will talk to the DA. We will get back to you.”

Alice elbowed her way past ML who purposely brushed against her. She called Marian on her cell to tell her she was on her way. Just what did Estelle Miles have on Marian?

“Where are you?” asked Marian.

“I just interviewed Estelle Miles. I need to talk to you. She is claiming she is a victim of a conspiracy. Don’t ask me of it is a vast right wing or left wing conspiracy or if the devil is behind it. She says you are involved. She actually threatened to bring you down with her. If the Press gets wind of this story, there will be political hell to pay. Oh and what is worse. They hired my ex boyfriend to save her. And to top it all off, Estelle is pregnant. This case will make OJ’s trial seem like a media blackout.”

Marian went silent for a full minute.

“Are you there boss?” asked Alice.

“I am here. Come in to the office immediately. We need to huddle. The arraignment is in front of Judge Moon in three hours.”

“Yeah Boss. I’ll be there. Have you thought about bail?”

“Remand! She killed our Mayor. Now get over here. And remember, I am the Boss. You are to obey me at all times and in all ways or else.”

Alice’s throat filled up with anger. She wanted to chew the phone. “Oh I got the message just as clear as if it was on video tape.”

“Good. I am glad you see things our way. We want you to be assured that any secrets you have are safe as long as you work with us. Am I clear?”

“All too clear. I don’t want any trouble. So help me Jesus!”

“Jesus has nothing to do with it. Now beat it over here.”

The phone went dead. Alice wanted to just go home. She wanted to call Marian and tell her to drop dead and broadcast the fucking video on the fucking Internet. But Estelle needed and deserved a fair trial, video or no video. Alice would do her job and make sure Estelle’s trial was fair for her sake as well. Then she would shove the video so far up Marian’s butt it would act as a suppository.

Alice slipped out the back of the Round House. A glimmer of sunlight split the overcast morning. She inhaled the cool air and turned toward Center City. She’d walk to the office to give herself time to think.

Her Dad always said, “You only lose a fight if you quit.”