Adultery When We Were Married by DanielQSteele1

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Somehow the old Vaudeville punch line about “slowly I turned...” rang in my head as I turned to face my parents and children and in-laws and outlaws. I couldn’t read Charles’ expression, but there was surprise and the beginnings of a small smile on my mother’s face; shock and sadness on Cathy Bascomb’s face mirrored in her husband and daughter, Clarice.

Kelly had put her fingers to her lips and was looking at me in a way I’d never seen before. I realized she wasn’t seeing me as Daddy. She had never seen me with another woman in her entire life. BJ was grinning and mouthed the words silently, “way to go, dad.”
I locked eyes with Debbie and couldn’t read her at all. All I knew was that seeing her without warning just made me realize all over again how impossibly, unfairly beautiful she was.
“Look, I realize you guys were trying to surprise me.  ”
“And we did,” my mother said, throwing a look back over her shoulder at Debbie.
“You did. I’m sorry....you got a big shock.  but I did—we did—too.”
“Who-," began Kelly.
“Just a minute,” and I turned my back on them and opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Aline had her back to me, her panties pulled up and she was vigorously drying her mane of black hair.
“I’m sorry, baby, it’s like something out of a bad situation comedy. I had no idea they were coming. They thought they were going to give me a nice surprise.”
“Your family,” she said, turning to face me. Her entire body was still mottled with red splotches indicating a body-wide blush. “I feel like such an idiot. How can I show my face now?”
I pushed her hands aside, swept her bangs back from her face and kissed her hard.
“You put on that dress, and a bra, and come outside with me. You’re a friend of mine from the cruise ship and you’re visiting. I don’t have anything to apologize for, and neither do you. I’m a grown man, a free man, and you’re a grown woman. A beautiful woman. I want to show you off to my family.”
She kissed me back, then said, “That’s the first time I’ve seen her in the flesh, Bill. I had no idea—she’s impressive. What is she doing here?”
“I have no damned idea at all. Probably, I’m guessing the kids talked her into it. Something about burying the hatchet. But let her eat her heart out seeing me with you. The bitch deserves that and a lot worse.”
I started to open the bathroom door, then added, “And make sure you wear the Fleur de Lis.”


When I stepped out the whole crew was crowding into the area between the kitchen and small living room. Debbie was standing between Kelly and BJ at the front.
“Who is she, Dad?” Kelly started again.
“Her name is Aline des-Jardins. She was an officer, a crew member, on the French ship I took that cruise on, the Bonne Chance. We got to know each other on the cruise. She had two weeks off from the ship and she honored me by becoming my guest here.”
BJ just grinned and high-fived me. I returned it.
“Why didn’t you just tell us you had other plans,” my mother said. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. We could have gotten together some other time and you’d have been able to spend time with her without...us showing up and trampling all over your apartment.”
“I wasn’t lying, purposely, Mom. I’ve been working hard and trying to spend time with Aline. She’s only here a short time and I thought it would get...complicated..introducing her and explaining...things. I had no idea everyone would pop in. We were just going to grab a bite to eat and then hit the bed.”
Clarice just rolled her eyes when I said that and grinned. I got the impression she was enjoying her sister’s discomfort.
“She’s....,” Debbie spoke for the first time. “She’s very beautiful, Bill. I’m glad....you’ve found a...friend.”
“Thank you. Yes, she is very beautiful, and I’m very lucky.”
The bathroom door opened and I looked back to see a vision in black step out. She was wearing the classic “little black dress” which looked like it had been painted on her. Even though she was wearing a bra, it didn’t look like it. The Fleur-de-Lis looked as big as an orange gleaming in the center of the black dress.
I stepped back and put my arm around her and faced my family.
“Aline, this is my family. This is Debbie, my ex, Kelly, my daughter and BJ, my son. And...”
When I’d finished she stepped away from me and faced them.

“I...wish to apologize.....I...am...embarrassed to have put on such a display...” My mother stepped around Debbie to take Aline’s hand in her own. She looked up at Aline and said, “You have nothing to apologize for. We barged in on you. People that show up where they’re not expected can’t take offense at what

they’re not supposed to see.”

“Thank you. You should be proud of your son. He is a very well respected litigator. He is the kind of man other attorneys want to be like.”

“I am proud of him. And I know that if he likes you, you must be a special woman.”

She reached out and touched the Fleur de Lis. “That is so beautiful.”
Aline touched the diamond in its center.
“Yes. It will always be very special to me, because it was a gift to me from your son.”
“It is very beautiful. They can do wonderful things with costume jewelry. It looks real.”
Debbie had stepped to within a foot of Aline. I wasn’t holding my breath, but it felt like I should be.
“Yes, they can, but this is real gold and a real diamond. Not that it matters. I would treasure it if it were paste. It is not what it’s made of, but what it represents.”
“Shipboard romances are sweet. Ephemeral, but sweet. You were together for what, a week? Bill moved very quickly. Bill is a nice man, but he never moved that quickly when we were together. And he was never that dashing.”
“Bill is a dashing man, a very...seductive man. Perhaps after a long marriage, you just didn’t make him feel that...dashing...anymore.”
The two women, hot and blonde and cool and brunette held each other’s eyes, Debbie looking down slightly. She stared at the Fleur de Lis and then looked over Aline’s chest.
“I had thought that France was a more advanced nation, more medically and technologically advanced.”
Aline just stared back. The question was implicit in her gaze.
“I would have thought that more French women would be aware of, and take advantage of implants where....nature has been...not quite so generous. In today’s world, no woman has to remain flat chested.”
And she took a deep breath and slowly let those heavy breasts jiggle to drive home her point.
A small smile played on Aline’s lips.
“In France women do have implants...where they’re needed and wanted. I would have thought, however, that in a country as great as this, more women would be aware of the possibilities of liposuction. After all, today there is no need to have those ugly rolls of fat on the stomach, thighs or the ass.”
Her gaze played on Debbie’s golden body and then the two women just locked eyes.
There was another lingering silence and then Debbie looked at me and said, “Happy Birthday, Bill. I do hope you have a good time tonight. And, Ms. des-Jardins, I hope you enjoy the remainder of your time in our country."
Looking at Kelly and BJ, she said, "If your father wants to go out tonight, I want you to go and have a good time. I'm just not feeling real well right now. I'm


tired and I'm going home to get some sleep."
She shrugged off her mother's attempt to talk to her and just stared at Clarice for a moment, then shook her head, and walked out of my condo. I should have felt better at that moment than I did. I should have felt better than I had in the last five months since I'd first heard that phrase, "when we were married." I had a beautiful woman at my side. I should have felt better than I did.
Life is funny sometimes.

 

 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 5: TELL ME I’M BEAUTIFUL


My name is William Maitland. I am, as of today, 42 years old. I have been divorced for nearly 2 months from Debbie, my wife of 18 years and companion of 20, who tore my heart out and cut my balls off when she left me for a 10-year younger stud nearly six months ago
I have moved on, to the extent of starting a hopeless relationship with a beautiful French woman I can never have a future with because she is married to a man who was my friend, and she has a young son she will never leave.
After being ambushed by my entire family at my new downtown Jacksonville condo and having to introduce my friend, Aline, to my kids, ex-wife, mother and stepfather and ex-mother and father in law, my ex’s beautiful sister and her two small children, we are all getting ready to go out for a big family celebration of my 42nd birthday.
I haven’t told anyone and won’t that Aline is a married woman who will be going back to her husband—probably. She may have an open marriage, but it’s not anything my family would understand or accept.
And it doesn’t matter. Our relationship is ours—not my mother and stepfather’s, and not my kids. I’ve done something very stupid and it will come back to bite me, but it’s my decision.
The only person who isn’t going out with us is Debbie. She and Aline had one of those female catfights conducted at a level that males can only realize SOMETHING is going on until somebody’s head falls off. There wasn’t any blood, but blows were taken and received. And Debbie retreated.
I don’t know where she is or what she’ll be doing while I’m enjoying the company of my family and Aline. I know she was hurt, at least her pride.
I know she didn’t think much of me as a man, and I hadn’t given her much of a reason to look back on our last years in the bedroom with much affection. I know she pitied me, compared to her tall, strong young boyfriend with, she said, a much bigger dick than I wield.
And when she saw a naked Aline walking out of our bathroom to give herself to me, when she saw her slim, gorgeous body in a slinky black dress, it was as if I were giving her the finger, figuratively. She couldn’t pity me anymore as the hopeless loser who wasn’t worthy of her love or her body.
I saw it in her eyes as she left my condo. I had hurt her. Why in the hell she would be hurt like that, I still don’t understand. If you don’t care for someone anymore, why should you care if they meet somebody else.
Despite everything, I felt sorry for her. How people can shut off loving someone I’ve never understood.


I could never live with her again. I could never share her bed again. We would never look in each other’s eyes at the end of a long day and know without words what the other was thinking.
But how do you tear memories and emotions and a life out of yourself and pretend it was never there? And our two children are a daily reminder that I can’t remove of what she was to me once upon a time.
But even loving her still, there was a part of me that enjoyed seeing the pain in her eyes. She had never once apologized for falling out of love with me and lusting for a younger man. She had never apologized for taking him into her bed before she even told me she wanted a divorce.
She had said she was sorry she hurt me. But that’s not the same thing. And even though it was low of me, I wanted her to know and feel what it was like to be replaced in someone’s life. Of course, it wasn’t the same. Because when she had dumped me I was desperately in love with her. Now, I was only hurting her pride. But I’d take that.
She needed to be hurt. If there was any cosmic justice, she needed to be hurting even a little bit like she had hurt me.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2005 9:30 P.M.

She knocked on the door of the Shire apartments just off Atlantic Boulevard. They were set right along service road that ran alongside the Arlington Expressway. They were built in a faux-Medieval system with corner apartments looking like the rounded towers at the edge of a castle.
He lived in one of the tower apartments. The fact that they were set at ground level instead of 50 feet in the air kind of defeated the image, but he had said he just liked the idea of living in an anachronism. She wondered if he had someone with him. Usually she would have called. But tonight it didn’t matter. If he had somebody, he’d have to kick their ass out.
She knocked again, and a third time. His car was in the parking lot. He could have gone out with friends, but she was praying he hadn’t. He had to be home.
The door opened and he stood there, dressed in slacks and a white t-shirt. He had a bottle of Bud in his left hand.
He was about to say something when she stepped across the threshold, put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to plant her lips on his. After a few seconds his lips parted and she darted her tongue inside. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and pushed her groin into him. She felt the hardness between his legs started to grow and she made love to it with her own body.
After a minute he pushed her away gently and held her by the shoulders. “I know this is a silly question, Deb, but why are you here?”
“Do I need to give you an instruction manual?”


He grinned.
“No, I think I know how to insert Part A into slot B and how it goes from there. But, I didn’t know we had a date tonight. Did I do the unforgiveable and forget about a scheduled assignation?”
She kissed him gently this time, reaching up to brush his unruly hair away from his eyes.
“No. This is a spur of the moment booty call, as my kids would say. Do you think you could work me into your busy schedule? You have any women I need to run out of here?”
“No. No women hiding in any corners. Actually, I was working on a freelance magazine article. It’s for Parade Magazine. It’s due next Friday.”
“And I interrupted your work? Do you suppose.  ”
She knelt and unzipped him. He was already hard and she pulled his Hanes down and was able to move the stiff column of hard male flesh enough to release it. She ran one hand up and down it, rubbing her thumb over the head and feeling the wet pre-cum that was already leaking.
She squeezed it hard enough to make him gasp, then lifted it to allow her tongue to run over his balls and ran her tongue up its length until she got to the tip, where she licked and stuck her tongue as far into his pee-hole as she could get it. Then she sucked it like a straw while she jerked.
Finally she pulled her head back and look up at him.
“You taste so damned good, Clint. Is there any way, any way at all, that you would consider putting off your very important freelance article for a few hours? Would you let me jerk your big hard dick until you squirt all your hot white stuff all over my face and titties? And let me get you hard again and convince you to slam it all the way up inside my pussy until you make me scream?”
He took a deep breath and pulled her to her feet.
“Damn, if you weren’t a college professor and a professional administrator, Deb, you would have made one hell of a saleswoman. Screw the article.”
He swept her into his arms without straining too much and she mentally applauded him. She knew she wasn’t a little girl and he wasn’t a bodybuilder, but he hoisted her without showing much strain. For a writer, he was pretty buff.
On his bed, which she’d already become familiar with, he threw her down and with a few practiced moves, unbuttoned and slipped her blouse off, then pulled her skirt down. He looked at her naked vagina and grinned.
“Why do I have the impression that you came ready for action, little lady?” “Why, whatever do you mean, Rhett Butler? Are you prepared to take
advantage of little ‘ole innocent me?”
He made the classic ‘villain twirling his mustache’ gesture and slipped his slacks off. His cock was standing straight, hard and proud. She felt herself


beginning to get even wetter.
“Actually that was my plan, if you see anything you like.”
“Umm....yes, actually I do. Would I lower myself in your estimation if I told you that I find mens’ cocks beautiful. Yours very beautiful.”
He sat down beside her and ran one finger lightly down the side of her thigh, his fingers running close to the opening of her femininity.
“Really? I mean, I know women like what we do with them. But I’ve never quite heard a woman call them beautiful.”
She rolled toward him and closed her fingers lightly about him, moving it up and down so softly as if she were afraid of hurting him.
“They are beautiful, Clint. I ..you know...I was kind of wild when I was younger. I’ve seen and rubbed and sucked big ones and littles one and thin ones and ones with a kind of kink. Circumcized and uncircumsized. I’ve watched pornos. Everybody watches pornos nowdays, you know. Even Bill....and I...we watched them sometimes to make it hotter for us.
“And a hard cock....God.  its strength. Men are hard and angular and women
are soft and round. And the cock is where you’re the hardest. It’s like living rock, soft, pulsing. Those strong lines. I wish I were an artist sometimes. I’d specialize in beautiful strong, long, straight cocks.”
He rolled toward her and slipped his fingers into her pussy and felt them sink in. She was so wet he went in with no effort; He lowered his mouth to one heavy breast and licked the pebbly aureole. As he did she sucked her breath in. He already knew she was one of those women with a direct line from her breasts to her pussy. If you could suck her, she’d spread her legs and be ready.
But somehow, she managed to bring her hands up under his chin and she pushed him away. He looked at her in confusion.
“You can have me, Clint. All night. But first. ”
“What? You want me to do a handstand, pound some nails into a board with my dick. Jesus, just tell me. ”
She rolled toward him and he couldn’t read her eyes. It had happened before. Even though he knew better, it was too easy to fall into the trap of thinking she was just a big tittied bimbo. But she was a lot more than that, and if she let you treat her like a sex toy, it was because she wanted to be treated that way.

“Tell me I’m beautiful.” He looked her, curious. “What? Why?”

“Don’t ask, Clint. Just tell me. Use words to make me wet. I know you can do it with your body. Make me believe that I’m beautiful, for a few hours anyway.”
He knew then, but it wouldn’t do any good to talk about it, now.


He lifted himself up on an elbow and looked at the golden body lying next to him.
“Alright, Ms. Bascomb. I could with Biblical allusions from the Song of Solomon, but how about this. You are a walking wet dream. When you walked into my office that first day I took one look at you and knew that if I had to crawl across broken glass to get into that hot pussy, I’d do it.
“You are every horny teenage boy’s dream of a blonde with huge tits and big nipples and a great ass. I can’t see you in clothes without thinking of what you look like under those clothes. I want to stroke those huge soft breasts, to sink my fingers into them, to suck on them like a baby on the teat.
“I want to spread your legs and dive in to that wet pussy that’s gleaming at me. I can’t be around you and not envision myself sinking all the way in. I think about the way those breasts look like when they’re wrapped around my cock and I’m sliding it back and forth.
“I can be sitting here sometimes, alone, and I think of you and the way you look naked on my bed and I can’t help pulling my dick out and jerking until I come all over myself. I haven’t done that in years. But you bring that out in me.
“It’s like the old joke about Marilyn Monroe. Some critic said she just appealed to 13 year-old boys and the rejoinder was, yes, but around her, every man is a 13-year-old boy.”
He leaned over and placed his hand at the base of one large breast and pulled it up, running his fingers over the yielding flesh until he captured the nipple and tugged and pulled until she gasped.
“But it’s not just sex, Debbie. Your smile lights up this room. If I knew I could never have you, that smile would make me want to be your champion. It’s the lips and the eyes and those cheekbones. I want to be a hero for you, to be better than I am. I know that’s what other men feel for you. It’s the reason why guys fall all over themselves to do whatever you ask.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“Even if they’re old or young or fat and know they’ll never in this lifetime have you. They want you to smile upon them.

“And I know that’s what Bill felt like that night...”
She grabbed his hand, held it tight and raised herself up to catch his lips with her own.
“No, don’t mention his name, Clint. I don’t want him here. He’s not part of my-“
He shut her up and rolled onto her, sliding his cock deep inside her in one fluid motion so that she gasped into his mouth but couldn’t make a sound.
His cock slammed in as far as it would go, so hard it bruised her, but she pushed herself up to him to take even more of him inside her. She wrapped her


legs around him to keep him as deep as she could, only allowing him to pull back and then ram it home again.
He ran his lips down from hers nipping her neck and then fastened on her right nipple, sucking and then pulling it up with her teeth hard enough to make her wince. But it just made her wetter. He’d already discovered that she liked a little bit of pain. Sucking hard made her moan inside her throat and start to scratch his back.
She wanted him to hammer her hard, the way Doug had, the way---no no no and she pulled her mind from the past and concentrated on the feel of him inside her, the way he played her, using her breasts and lips and pussy and ass, kneading and stroking and pulling and hammering and driving any thought but the moment out of her mind.
And then she felt him speeding up and she exploded around him and still the hard ram inside her hammered and she came again and she felt him almost there and she scratched his back and screamed and felt him pouring into her one molten blast after another and she came again.
He fell backwards, and she felt his still hard cock sliding out of her and she felt empty.
She rolled onto her stomach and found his cock and licked it, then shimmied up the bed until her breasts were over his face. She smothered him and grinned as he licked and then sucked as much as he could of the left and then the right in his mouth.
“Does baby like that?” she said in a teasing tone. She lifted herself lightly and batted them across her face.
He sounded winded but, “God yes, just let me lay here and suck for a while till I get my strength back. I’m not 20 anymore.”
She pulled her breasts out of his reach and then began to give him what Bill-fuck shit fuck - why did he keep sticking himself back into her memories—what the bastard had called a titty rub. She slid the heavy melons that sometimes gave backaches but were worth it up and down his chest and over his arms and back up to where he could nip them with his teeth and then down around his groin.
She sucked him first and then enveloped him with her breasts, rubbing them up and down and using her hands to press them in and, not surprisingly, in a few minutes she felt the steel beginning to return and he started to rise again.

“Ohhhhhh... ”

“You like that huh...you like having those big heavy titties loving your dick....don’t lie I can tell............................................. let’s see if you like this,” and she captured him in her

mouth, sucked, then let him go and caressed him again. She sucked and rubbed and massaged and in minutes he was thrusting up to meet her mouth.

Then she stopped and keep his quivering cock motionless a few inches away from her hot wet mouth and looked up at him to ask, “Do you want to fuck me again, Clint...or would you like to cum like this?”
He answered her by grabbing her head and pulling her mouth onto him and he hadn’t thrust more than two or three times until he was squirting into her mouth. She continued to titty rub him until the squirting stopped. He didn’t have much, but hell, like he’d said, he wasn’t’ 20 anymore.
She kept her head in his lap while she licked him clean and rolled it around her mouth before swallowing. As she’d told Teller, she knew the taste of a man’s semen. As a young girl she’d hated it. It didn’t taste like anything else she’d ever tasted. But, now...hell if you could learn to like oysters you could learn to like almost anything.
She waited until she thought she’d swallowed it all before moving up to lay her head against his chest. Most guys, no matter how nice they were trying to be, just didn’t like tasting their own cum. They didn’t mind licking pussy, but their own...probably some hang-up about having homoerotic tendencies. She still didn’t understand, but when a guy made her feel this good, why force him to do something that really turned him off.
They lay like that for awhile until they were both breathing normally and then Clint slid her off him and asked, “You want a beer? Wine? I got coffee and some Danish in the kitchen in case you worked up an appetite.”
“Coffee would be good. No Danish. Got to watch the figure.” “Can I watch it for you?”
She pretended to slap at him. A few minutes later they were sitting up in his bed naked, drinking hot coffee carefully. Clint was demolishing two frosted slices of Cheese Danish.
They’d been talking about nothing in particular when Clint said, “So what did Bill do this time?”
“Don’t Clint...don’t go there.”
“I keep telling you, it’s alright Debbie. You were married until a few months ago. It takes a couple of years for most people to get their heads screwed on right. I was in love with my wife for five years after she died and she was a cheating lying bitch.”
“Just like me...that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it,” she said, turning away from him to put her coffee on the side table and thought maybe this was a mistake.
He was able to grab her shoulder before she got off the bed and pulled her back to him. She wouldn’t face him but she didn’t try to pull away.
“That’s what you see yourself as, isn’t it? Yeah, you made mistakes. But most of the time it takes two people to kill a marriage. Bill is a good guy, but from


what you’ve said, he wasn’t the best husband in the world. Even if it was 100 percent your fault, you two are done now. You’ve got a new job, you’re seeing at least one nice guy and if Bill hasn’t found somebody, he will.
“He’s not that old, even if he thinks he is, he’s a powerful man in an important job and he’s started getting famous. Trust me, women will be stalking him.”
He was silent for a moment then put his hands on her shoulders.
“He has, hasn’t he? That’s why you came here tonight. I’m hurt. I thought you were lusting for my body. This was a revenge fuck. Even if he doesn’t know about it, you’re giving another man what used to be his.”
“Her name is Aline.  Aline for God’s sake. Who’s named Aline? And she’s a
miserable….stewardess. Oh she works on a cruise ship, but it’s the same damned thing. Coffee, tea or me. And in his case, she gave him HER.”
Clint’s voice was gentle.
“You had Doug. You’ve got me. And...I don’t know...maybe other boyfriends. He’s got one woman. Why does it bother you so much?”
“It’s just you, Clint. No one night stands, no pulling some young stud lawyer’s pants down and sucking him off, no zipless fucks. Just you. You believe me?”
“If you say so, Deb, I believe you. We’re not married. You’ve got no reason to lie.”
“I think...the gossip is...he’s probably had other women. I’m not surprised. Since he started getting into shape, got that new look, I knew he’d find somebody. But why her?”
“What is so special about this Aline?”
“Because,” and she took a deep breath to avoid screaming, “because she’s beautiful and French and she’s a goddamned bone and standing next to her I felt like a 400 pound hippo. She doesn’t have any tits, but what she’s got looks good. Shit, I felt fat, and old next to her. And she LOOKS at me like I’m fat and old.”
She turned to look at him.
“Women don’t look at me that way, Clint. They’re jealous, they’re contemptuous because they think I’m a slut and a threat to steal their husbands or boyfriends, but not like....I didn’t....I didn’t....threaten her. She thought she was hotter than I am. and the bitch rubbed it in that she had Bill now.
“She walked out in front of my whole family, my parents, our children flat naked, rubbing her pussy. The only way she could have made it more obvious is if she’d thrown Bill down and started screwing him.”
Clint shook his head.
“She walked out in front of your whole family naked?”


“Long story. They pretended it was an accident. But I know the bitch planned it. Not an ounce of fat on her. Every guy in the room got hardons, I know it. And what could I say? Everybody knows about me and Doug. I had to swallow any comment I could have made about her being a cheating damned slut tramp.”
“Okay, I can see that would be...traumatic. But, still, you knew he was going to find somebody. He found a beautiful woman. He did it before. What’s so different about this?”
She leaned into him and nestled her head against his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t’ see her eyes.
“I....this sounds crazy....I know it does. But....it was the WAY he looked at her.”

“How?”

“I know that look, Clint. It was the way he looked at me. Even....even after things blew up, when he was hurting, I knew when he looked at me he still loved me. He was looking at her that way. And it drove me crazy.”
He felt moisture on his neck and realized she was crying.
“What kind of terrible monster am I? I didn’t love him and I went to another man and I enjoyed the fact that the man I’d thrown away was still hung up on me and now when I can see that he cares for somebody else, it’s killing me.”
He held her until the tears stopped and then pushed her away. He wiped the tears away.
“You’re a human being, Deb. You’re a gorgeous, big breasted walking wet dream, but you’re still just a human being. You did what you thought was right at the time. And now you’re having second thoughts.”

“No-“

“Yes, you’re having second thoughts. I don’t mean you’re going to go back to him, but I told you before I thought you moved too fast.

“You took up with another man before you straightened things out with Bill. You probably, in a perfect world, should have filed for divorce or got a separation, maybe went in for counseling. That way if it fell apart you could have had Doug or anybody else you wanted.
“And now....you’ve got issues. And it might be too late to do anything about them.”
“Might be? MIGHT BE? Christ, no way will we get back together. I—there are things I’m trying to get straight in my head, but he still makes me see red sometimes. And—he would never be interested in me again. Don’t ask. He just never will be. And anyway...how long did it take you to get over your cheating wife?”
She sat back and looked into his eyes and saw the answer to her question.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“Oh yeah, she died 20 years ago and you never re-married. Have you even been serious about another woman? Talk about being hung up on somebody.”

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2005 5 P.M.

We stopped at The Columbia on A1A south of St. Augustine. I’ve always loved their paella and found out that Aline loved it as well.
“I was raised in a little town near Marseilles,” she told me. “Just the smell of paella de marisco gets my mouth watering.”
“They serve a good seafood paella here. And I love their Sangria. I’ll order a pitcher of the real stuff and a couple of glasses of virgin for me because I can’t afford any tickets for drunk driving.”
She leaned into me and said, “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“Why? You’re going to get lucky whether I’m drunk or sober.” “I love easy women.”
“Don’t get me started sailor, or I’ll turn us around and take advantage of you in your car in this parking lot, Unless you can find a spot on the Beach.”
I looked at her. She was dressed in a blue skirt and a gold v-necked top that showed the curves of her breasts but not much more. She was slender and casual and I wondered for the thousandth time how in the hell I’d wound up with her. It was only luck and chance that led me to Debbie’s bed, and again it was only the wildest coincidence that led Aline to me.
I don’t know if somebody up there likes me, or hates me with a passion.
We ate two plates of paella and it was as good as I remembered it. It had been a couple of years since I’d been here. As usual, Debbie had insisted on the paella with chicken and pork. For an intelligent woman, she was as traditional in her tastes and unwilling to experiment as any Southern mom whose tastes were limited to pork, chicken and mashed potatoes.
Or maybe our differing culinary tastes were just another indication of the chasm that had been growing between us that finally led to our divorce.
Aline polished off at least a half a pitcher of hard Sangria and was laughing and clinging to me as we walked out the door. It was nearly 9:30 p.m. and I figured we’d just head back to the condo and try to find at least one room we hadn’t already christened. We’d done the bathroom, the tiny living room, the kitchen/dining room. Come to think of it, there wasn’t any place else to christen.
As we walked across the small parking lot to where my Escalade was parked, her cell phone began to trill the “Marseillaise”, the French national anthem. We both stopped and looked at it at the same time. I didn’t have to look at the number. She hadn’t received a call since she’d gotten to Jacksonville. I didn’t know of anyone, other than the obvious suspect, who would be calling her.


She gave me a look and punched the button to answer the call. At least she didn’t turn away from me to talk to him.
There was a rapid stream of French that I could barely follow. All I knew was she had said “hello” in French. Philippe of course sounded the same in any language. There were questions and she responded in rapid French. There was a smile that broke my heart and more French. Then a pregnant pause and “Jacksonville” and “Bill Maitland.”
The conversation proceeded for a little while and then she handed me the phone.
As she did so she mouthed the words, “He knows.” I didn’t know how much he knew, so I assumed he simply knew that Aline was vacationing in Jacksonville and I was showing her around. It had been stupid to assume he didn’t keep some kind of eye on where and what his wife did. That was the way I’d play it.
“Hello, my friend.”
“Hello, Philippe. How have you been?”
“You know how it goes,” he said in almost perfectly unaccented English. “Evil never rests. Of course, the Angel of Death must be aware of the depths to which men can sink.”
“I’m famous over there?”
He laughed, that deep rich chuckle that reminded me of the nights we had gone drinking and he had flirted with three or four women, at least a couple of whom I had no doubt he’d be banging after he left me.
“You’re famous everywhere, Bill. With the Internet, anything is possible. I’ve read of the ‘Killer Granny’ case. That was a bold stroke on your part. I would have bet against your winning. But, I thought when you were here with us that you are a man it’s not safe to bet against.”
“It’s all PR Philippe. Just a matter of luck and timing. I’m the same guy I was when I was a grunt prosecutor hitting the dives with you and your Gendarme friends.”
He laughed again.
“We had some good times. I am sorry our paths never crossed again.”
“So am I, Philippe. I appreciated your sending me the followup. It took you a solid year, but you did nail those bastards. Too bad that the head man chose to shoot it out rather than face trial.”
“It was actually rather fortunate. You and I both know it would have been hard to get a conviction. There were too many layers between him and the slavers. He saved the state a great amount by taking a bullet to the brain rather than wasting the time of many good men and women.”


I had no doubt then and I had no doubt now that the rich man who profited off the sale and use of '. teenage girls hadn’t put a bullet into his brain voluntarily. Philippe had never admitted in his file which he’d emailed me that he had had the man murdered, but he made it clear when you read between the lines.
And I knew from hints that cops and thugs both dropped in Parisian dives that, like me, Philippe was owed favors by some of the worst of the worst, and I had the feeling that he had called in at least some of those favors over the years.
“When Aline decided to wait until I brought Andre back to Paris, I had assumed she would stay with the Bonne Chance or stay in Miami,” he continued in a friendly voice. “But friends told me she had left the ship. Imagine my surprise when I learned she was staying in Jacksonville, the stomping grounds of my old American friend.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I haven’t been keeping up on your activities,, but when I learned that Aline was in Jacksonville I thought of you and made some calls. I learned of your—troubles. I was very sorry to hear about the end of your marriage. I remember the photo you showed me of your Debbie. A very beautiful woman.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I know that you loved her very much. It was evident in every conversation we had about your life in America. You remember that second night we went to that bar near the Seine? Lilly, the bartender, was taken with you. She was always strange for Americans. Must be the accent. She practically threw herself under you, but you never took the bait.”
He laughed that laugh again.
“She was very upset with you when I talked to her later that morning. You hurt her feelings. I explained to her that you loved your wife and Americans take a different view of recreational sex than we French. You have a—stricter—view than most French.”
“I was in a bad place when I met Aline, Philippe. If she didn’t tell you, I was close to being suicidal. Debbie tore my heart and my balls out when she left me. My time on the Bonne Chance and Aline’s friendship helped me take my life back. I can never express my gratitude to her. You are a luckier man than you know to have her in your life.”
“I know I am, my friend. It never hurts to be reminded though. A married man sometimes forgets what he has, until he sees it through someone else’s eyes. She is very fond of you, you know.”
“I hope so.”
“No, truly. When I asked her just now, she told me of how you had met on the Bonne Chance and that you had volunteered to show her around your city.


She said you have been very gracious with your time, taking her to restaurants and seeing that she has not been bored. I would have expected no less of you, my friend, but I am grateful.”
“It’s been my pleasure, Philippe. I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed every minute I’ve spent with her. And since my divorce, I have the time to show her my home town.”
“You have my thanks, Bill. When you’re separated as much as we are by our professions, you can worry. It can be hard to keep a marriage alive. When she is with you, I can rest assured that she is safe. And that you would not do anything to jeopardize our friendship because you are not that kind of man.”
“You know I consider you a friend, Philippe. And I would treat your marriage with the same honor and fidelity that I know you have shown it.”
This time there was a long silence on his end of the line. Finally he said, “I will be back in Paris with our son in a week’s time, Bill. I am looking forward to Aline’s return. I have missed her, in my life and in my bed.
“I only hope that someday in the near future you can come visit us in Paris. You have never seen the two of us together. I don’t know if we have a marriage to equal the one you had with your Debbie, but I would like to show you what our marriage is like, what we are like together.”
“I hope you have a better marriage than Debbie and I had, and I hope yours lasts longer than ours.”
“Can I speak to Aline again, Bill? I wish you good fortune if we do not speak again.”
“And you also, Philippe. Here she is.” I handed the phone back to her
Her face was white in the moonlight as she brought the phone to her ear. I heard the whisper of voices in the darkness and then she said, “Andre...”
Her face was lit with a smile as tears rolled down her face. Finally she said, “Je t’aimerai toujours, Andre.”
The tears stopped as she spoke for a little while longer to Philippe and finally, “’Je T’aime. Au revoir.”
As she clicked off the hand holding the phone dropped to her side. She looked across A1A toward the sound of the rolling surf and swayed. I stepped in behind her and put my arms around her. I could feel the silent sobs she fought to hold in. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what I could say.
We walked to the car in silence and drove home to my condo without saying a word to each other. In bed she grabbed me hard and burrowed her head into my chest, wetting my chest with her tears. We didn’t have sex, merely held each other until her breathing slowed into the natural rhythm of sleep. I stared at the ceiling until dawn.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2005 -- 3 P.M.


I walked into Sheriff Knight’s office. Knight was a relatively tall, maybe 6 foot 1, sandy haired 50-ish cop who’d managed to stay trim and fit. He was a good looking guy except for a bad case of acne he must have gotten as a teenager that had left his face pocked.
In his case, it made him more of a regular guy type, which he had used in his campaign to succeed the Old Sheriff as everybody had called the guy who ran the department for 20 years prior. We’d always gotten along and I’d tried to stay on his good side. I didn’t think I’d manage to do that today.
He got up from behind his desk and came around to shake my hand.
“Hi, Bill. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy schedule to come have a talk.”
I smiled at him and said, “Why do I think there’s a little barb stuck in there, Sheriff. Anyway, you know I’m never to busy to talk to the head law enforcement officer in this county.”
He laughed and said, “I’d better roll my pants up beause the shit is getting really deep. And here I’d heard you weren’t a diplomatic type.”
I smiled at him and said, “Not a matter of being diplomatic. You’re a very important man in this community. We don’t get much done without your active cooperation. I’m always glad to meet with you or anybody in your department. We’re both on the same side.”
“Most of the time.”
“I thought it was all of the time, Sheriff. What do you have in mind?” “You know what I’m talking about, Bill. Shawn Smith.”
“We both have the same objective there. We want to make sure that security officer officers obey the same laws and are judged by the same standards as any other person involved in an incident in which people lose their lives.”
He leaned back against his desk.
“God, sometimes I think you attorneys are some alien breed that was dropped on the earth, because you are definitely not real people. How do you manage to say something that sounds so logical and is full of horseshit at the same time?”
“Not sure I follow you, Sheriff Knight.”
“That sounds good, Bill. security officer officers should be judged by the same standard as everyone else. Of course you and I know that’s a crock of shit. Every cop is judged by a much higher standard than anyone not wearing a badge. My men have to make split second decisions involving life and death and then weeks or months later guys in suits that have never had a gun pointed at them decide if they made the right decision.”
“That’s why we pay security officer officers well and give them great retirements and look the other way at a lot of shit they do that would get someone not wearing a


badge jail time.”
I sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and crossed my legs and leaned back.
“Don’t try to paint me as a cop hater, Sheriff. You’ve worked with me since you got into office. I’ve always backed your guys. You won’t find a stronger backer of security officer than me in my office. Because I know how important your men are. It doesn’t matter how good we are at putting away bad guys. Your guys have to catch them first and hopefully save innocent victims from assault or bang or murder at the same time.

“But...”

He stared at me and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Shawn Smith is a good security officer officer. He hasn’t deserved to be hung out to dry all these months. He was allowed to come back to work, but without a clearance those vulture asshole attorneys representing the Roper families and children are trying to get his scalp.
“And everybody he works with knows he could still go down. Other officers are afraid to get too close to him for fear that it will be catching.”
“Sheriff, I know he’s a good cop. Unfortunately, he’s a good cop who lost it and shot a man in the back and planted a gun on him to try to get away with murder. Or at least manslaughter.”
Knight just shook his head and walked back behind his desk and stood there looking at me.
“You really believe that?” “Yeah, unfortunately I do.”
“Those guys could have picked up that gun from anywhere. It was in the seat of the truck where Artie Roper was headed when Smith shot him. Just because we can’t prove that any of the three Ropers bought or got the gun doesn’t prove they didn’t place it there.
“You know as well as I that there’s a river of cheap, untraceable guns flowing through this city, through any American city. The Ropers could have brought the gun.”
“And Artie Roper walks with his two brothers armed with only clubs into the house of an armed cop and leaves the gun behind the cab of his truck? I know all three of them were pretty stupid. But you believe anybody is that stupid?”
“Don’t ask me how stupid criminals are. I could keep you entertained for hours talking about the stupid crooks I’ve run into in 20 years in this job. They’re not geniuses.
“Anyway, I’ll agree that the Ropers weren’t homicidal killers. I believe they intended to break into the house while Smith was asleep or groggy, get to him


before he could grab a gun and beat the shit out of him. He was a black man sleeping with and stealing a white man’s wife.
“I don’t think they intended to shoot him in cold blood. But, I think the Ropers must have brought the gun along just in case. And when Smith fought back and started shooting, Artie lost his nerve and was running for the truck.
“Smith followed him out. He had no way of knowing what the Ropers had out there. And I wouldn’t expect him, after three men burst into his house in the middle of the night, to just stand there and let Artie get to this truck and maybe start shooting.
“Cops aren’t trained to let themselves be used as target practice by criminals. You honestly believe you’re in danger, you shoot to kill. That’s what I’d do. That old saying is true; better to be tried by 12 than carried to your grave by six.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Sheriff. And you might be right. But I might be right. And I owe it to Art Roper and the taxpayers of this city not to sweep this under the rug. I’m going to take Smith and the shooting to the grand jury and let them hear the evidence and let them decide if there’s enough to take him to trial. I’m not going to make the decision myself.”
For the first time Knight let his anger show.
“Bullshit, Maitland. Bullshit . And you know it is. You are going to play that damned grand jury like a grand piano. A good prosecutor can get a grand jury to indict Mother Teresa if you want her scalp. Grand jurors are sheep. So spare me that crap about grand jurors being independent evaluators. YOU want to bring Smith to trial, and before you’re through he’s going to be railroaded to Raiford.”
“You’re wrong, Sheriff.”
“The worst part is that you know how this is going to end up. At best, he’ll be in solitary for his own protection for the next five or ten years and if he gets out he’ll be a broken man.
“But he won’t get out. Prisoners don’t like cops. He won’t make it. They’ll either gang bang him, or gang bang him and then plant a sharpened screwdriver up his ass or in his eye. You take him to a jury, and you’re killing him.”
The more he spoke the louder he had gotten until he was almost shouting at the end. I kept my voice purposely calm and low key.
“I don’t deny that if he’s convicted, he’ll have a rough road. But it’s not an automatic death sentence. And Art Roper won’t be getting any second chances. I happen to believe in jurors, Sheriff. They usually come out with the right decision. Not always, but most of the time. And I don’t have super powers. They could just as easily acquit him, let him walk away.”
He looked at me again and then shook his head.
“I told him he was a stupid bastard to brace you in that sandwich shop. He’s sure that’s why you’re going to go after him. It was a stupid thing to bring your


wife—your ex-wife—into it and he knows it. Everybody around the courthouse knows that’s a sore subject. If I was you, and I lost a woman like that, I’d be walking around pissed all the time too.
“But insulting you and hitting you in a sore spot, is not reason enough to ruin a man’s life. I’m asking you as one professional to another, one man to another, don’t take out your anger on Shawn for something he had nothing to do with. He’s not Doug Baker.”
I stood up.
“Whether you or he believe it or not, his comments in the shop have nothing to do with my taking the case to the Grand Jury. Or at least, I’m not doing it because he got me angry. I’ve been putting this off for way too long, Sheriff. I haven’t been doing him any favors by letting this drag out. We need to get closure on this. That’s why I’m taking the case to the grand jury in about two weeks.”
Knight just stared at me and his hands closed into fists.
“You son of a bitch. And I thought you were a good guy.” “I am.”
“If you do this, Maitland, your name is going to be shit with every officer in this county. No more rounding your drunk ass up and seeing you get home. You step out of line one frigging time and I’ll make sure you wind up behind bars. See how you like it when we toss you in with the animals and tell them who they’re bunking with.”
I shrugged and started walking toward the door.
“I guess I’ll have to lead a perfect life then, Sheriff. It’ll help knowing you’re looking over my shoulder.”
“I’m calling Edwards. You may think you’re God, but you’re just a goddamned flunky. He won’t let you do this, not when he knows what’s riding on it.”
“Talk to him all you want. But if I was you, I’d tell Shawn to get the best criminal attorney he can find in the next couple of weeks. He’ll need a good one.”
As I walked out I thought that I probably wouldn’t get my yearly Christmas bottle of expensive Scotch from the Sheriff this year.
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 6: WHERE THE RUBBER MEETS THE ROAD


Nothing lasts forever. We all know that intellectually. We are born and we will die. We marry and marriages die. Relationships bloom and thrive and then wither and die. Friendships ebb and flow.
We know intellectually that this will happen, does happen, must happen. But when we’re in a good spot we always persuade ourselves that we will be the exception,
I’d read somewhere that the trick to happiness is to realize that all things end and not to try to fight the end. But, I don’t know that anybody has ever actually managed to do that.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2005 -- 11A.M.
Myra looked up at me curiously as I stopped at her desk. She wore a dress with a slight scoop neckline that would have been demure on most women. In her case it looked like a sack of volleyballs was rolling around trying to escape out through the top.
“I won’t ask you what’s going on, Bill. But, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him this angry.”
The last was more of a question than a comment and I appreciated the delicacy of her probing.

“I’m afraid this is where the rubber meets the road, sweetheart.” Her look said it all. I couldn’t really explain.

“When I come back out, Myra, I’ll know if I still have a job here.” She looked stunned.

“Wha...? Bill-Mr. Maitland. You’re not...resigning...are you? This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“No. He’ll have to make that decision.”
I reached out and took one of her slim hands in mine.
“If things go south, and sour, really bad and it gets hectic and I don’t have a chance to talk to you again...”
I looked into those green eyes and let my gaze wander down the hills and valleys of that incredible body that I had passed on for a woman that was almost certainly going to leave me.
“I want you to know, Myra, that it’s been a pleasure working with you. You’re smart and competent and entirely too nice for any woman with a face and body like yours. I never said it, but I have lusted for you every day for five years, whether I saw you or not, and if I hadn’t been married and in love with my wife I would have hit on you every single day.


“And I know that God has a sense of humor because after lusting for you helplessly for five years, I’m finally free of that bitch I was married to and I find myself in love with somebody else. Life isn’t fair.”
She took her hand and ran her thumb gently up and down the inside of my palm. I was reminded of the old joke about how Martians make love. Her touch was hotter than most blow jobs.
“I know this is serious, Bill, because you talk like you’re dying, like you’ll never see me again. But..just remember..whatever happens...you may not be here, but I’ll still be here. For when you finally are out of love with somebody else.”
I squeezed her hand, said, “Wish me luck,” and walked in to see which direction my life was likely to go in from this day forward.
Edwards was sitting back in his chair. Unlike most times, he didn’t get up to shake my hand. He just stared at me. For most SAs summoned to his office, I imagine it would be an intimidating stare. But I had known him too long and we had a different relationship. And maybe I just didn’t give a damn anymore.

“Good morning, Bill.” “I hope so.”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“No really, it’s up to you. How about not dancing around this thing. What did you want to talk about.”
“Okay, straight to it. Good. Knight is so angry he’s about to stroke out over the way you’ve been jerking Shawn Smith around.”
“I’m sorry the Sheriff is upset. Is that all we had to talk about?”
“Bill, Knight is one of the most even tempered, easy-going guys you’ll ever run into. And you know it. But he said he called you in the other day to get a handle on when you’re going to give Smith a clearance on the shooting and you told him you were going to take Smith before the Grand Jury and try to prosecute him for murder.”
“That’s right. That’s what I told him.”
“And when were you planning on letting me into your confidence about all this? I thought we had an understanding that eventually you were going to clear him, let him go back to his life and let this mess die down.”
“Actually, Dallas, we never had that understanding. I know that’s what you wanted. You’ve hinted about it, but you never flat out said that I had to clear him. I thought you wanted me to treat this case like all the others and use my best judgment.”
“I do. But I don’t understand why you decided to crucify this guy. It’s true I want him cleared. The security officer Union and 99 percent of the county’s cops want him cleared. The NAACP and at least two other black groups are ready to go on


the warpath about another black man railroaded by white southern justice if he isn’t turned loose.”
He leaned forward and steepled his fingers in front of him. He reminded me of an ash blond Gregory Peck from “To Kill A Mockinbird.” He had a high forehead, dark brown eyes, straight nose, strong chin. It doesn’t hurt in today’s media environment to be good looking, and Edwards was.
His hair had turned almost white, but in a relatively unlined face it didn’t make him look as old as he really was. It just made him look more distinguished, the way Governors and Senators and—if you could dream that high—Presidents ought to look.
His smile was his fortune though. He wasn’t smiling now, but when he unleashed that wattage, it made every person watching him on television or in a crowd he was addressing think that this was a good guy to go out for a couple of beers with, or women started fantasizing about what that still lean 6-foot-8 body looked like under the clothes. Whatever charisma, or ‘it’ was, he had it.
“You and I both know that if this blows up and he gets convicted and maybe dies in prison, the blacks will never forget or forgive me, and every cop and Highway Patrolman in the state will do their best to screw me over. This will still be hot and fresh in everybody’s mind next Fall when the Governor’s race rolls around.
“I’m running—or will be running—as a conservative, law and order candicate, but I’ve always good relations with the blacks and Hispanics. It’s a perfect combo.
“But how can I do that next year if every major black organization in the state is calling me a corrupt racist and cops are saying I hate security officer and want to punish a cop for protecting himself and his—fiancee—from home invaders.
“The cops are going to kill me with the average white law and order voter, and the blacks are going to kill me with every minority. What the hell does that leave me with as a voter base?
“And I ask myself, why have I been busting my ass for the last ten years hustling money for Republican candidates, making myself sick choking down overcooked chicken and steak at political functions, spending days and weeks away from my wife to earn political credits.
“What does it matter if the guy that I trusted to help push me over the line screws me royally right at end, just as I get to the finish line for the 2006 race.”
He was really trying to be calm, but the anger was flooding out at the end of his comments.
I didn’t say anything. Let him get it out.
“I thought we were friends, Bill, in addition to being co-workers and committed to the same thing, which is justice. We’ve talked enough, you know


who I am. I’ve got an ego, you don’t get into public life without one. But I really do think I can do some good in T,.'assee.
“I’m honest, and I have ideas on how the state could be a better place to live in for everybody. The prison system is a horror and we’re losing kids every day that could be saved. Our drug policy is medieval and because I am a law and order candidate, I can do things to make our drug policy sane that no liberal could ever get away with.
“I’ve got ideas on how to make our colleges better, how to make the state cleaner without driving away business. I think I could do a lot, Bill, but I can’t do anything if I can’t get elected. And you’re going to drive a stake through the heart of my election chances if you prosecute Smith.”
We just looked at each other for a few seconds.
“I agree that you’d be a good governor, Dallas. We’ve talked enough, and I know you’re a good enough politician that you could do a lot of good in the Governor’s mansion. But, what are you prepared to pay to do all that good?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Suppose I had somebody bring in Doug Baker, the asshole that stole my wife away from me and ruined my marriage and my life. And I had him kneel down in front of this desk and I put a .45 to his head and told you that if you let me blow his brains out, I’d move heaven and earth to get you into the Governor’s chair. And only you and I would ever know that Doug Baker was the price you had to pay. Could you do it?”
“You’re not making sense, Bill. What does that have to do with Shawn Smith?”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“You know that two of the men—Alan and Arnold Roper - who broke into Smith’s house while he was there with his fiancee, who happened to be married to Arnold Roper at the time, were shot inside the house.

“Smith could claim self-defense for killing Alan and Arnold. But Art—Arthur—Roper, the other brother, was shot in the back trying to get to his truck. You and I both know Smith used a throw-down gun to shoot an unarmed man in the back.”
“You ‘think’ he used a throw-down gun. You can’t prove that.”
“True, but I’ve got enough evidence to convince any jury that Art didn’t use guns, he didn’t have one before that day, and Art’s brothers didn’t use guns. They had a tire-iron, a baseball bat, and a billy club bought at a used security officer equipment online site. Nothing else that anyone knows about.
“I looked into Art’s background. He was a high college dropout, been through dozens of temp jobs, usually getting fired. He had dozens of misdemeanor arrests, usually drunkness, getting into fights, dealing in stolen property. One


felony involving an attempted robbery of a liquor store down on 8th Street where he was a lookout. He didn’t carry.
“So, he was pretty much white trash, a loser. He’d never been married. But, he did have two illegitimate children, one an eight-year-old boy named Pete and a five-year-old daughter named Mary, all by an old girlfriend named Lawanna Salyers.
“She’s been with about six men since Art. They’ve gotten back together and split a dozen times in the last ten years. He couldn’t keep from hitting her when he drank and she couldn’t keep her legs together around strange men when she drank.
“She told me when I interviewed her that she knew she’d never be able to make it for long with Art, but the one good thing about him was that he loved his kids. He couldn’t always make child support, but he gave them every spare dollar he got. He saw them on their birthdays and Christmas. They named the boy Pete after Art’s grandfather.”
I looked at my boss and saw that he got it.
“Art Roper had as much right to life as Doug Baker, or you, or me. He should have gotten jail time or prison time for taking part in a home invasion. But he didn’t try to kill Smith. He was running for his life when Smith executed him.
“That’s why I’m going to take Smith to the grand jury and let them decide if he should go to trial. There are questionable elements, but Art Roper deserves a grand jury hearing.”
I stopped and looked around his office, at all the photos of Edwards and state and national politicians, the plaques and trophies. He wasn’t just a figurehead. He was a good man. But even good men can be wrong.
“Art wasn’t Doug Baker. But he was murdered. Are you prepared to let Art Roper be the price you pay to walk into the Governor’s mansion? Can you live with that?”
Edwards just shook his head and dropped his eyes, then looked back up at me.
“Shawn Smith is a good cop, Bill. You checked him out and you know I’m right. He’s received departmental commendations three times in 14 years on the force. He saved the life of an old man having a heart attack three years ago. He walked into that KFC armed robbery six years ago and killed both those bastards after they’d executed two workers and were getting ready to kill the other two.
“Even if I believe you, and he executed Arthur Roper,” Edwards said, “he had provocation. Three men break into his house in the middle of the night, start beating him, try to grab and take the woman in bed with him. He got to his gun


and killed two men and saw a third running. He probably chased him on instinct and he had no way of knowing the guy wasn’t going for a gun.”
“At best for your case, at best, he had a lapse in judgment. He let anger and fear overcome security officer training and he did what almost anyone else would do. He shot the bastard.”
I just stared at the man who had given me power and authority most attorneys never know until they’re in their 50s or later, if ever.
“So if you’re a good cop, or just a good guy, for enough years, you’re allowed a free pass, good for one murder?”
He scratched his chin and said, “That Angel of Death crap is only PR, remember Bill? We’re people, dealing with flesh and blood victims and criminals and sometimes we have to temper justice with mercy.”
“What kind of mercy are you going to extend to Pete and Mary? You going to bring their father back?”
He just shook his head.
“Don’t do this, Bill. Don’t be a hardass on this one. There’s too much riding on it.”
“Public trust is riding on this. You and I both know that the first thing that went through people’s minds when they heard about this was, another cop shoots down three guys and will walk away from it. So Smith is a good cop. He’s a hero cop. Last I heard, being a hero cop doesn’t allow you to get away with murder.”
I let the silence grow because I had the feeling we’d both said almost everything we could say until we cut right to the bone. But finally I had to say the words that might end a chapter in my life.
“I’m sorry, Dallas, I really am. I tried to walk away from this. I’ve been a coward because I’ve been afraid it would come to this so I tried to delay things. I should have taken the case to the grand jury a couple weeks after the shooting. But I knew how explosive it was. And I guess I figured that I like this job too damned much to take a chance of losing it.”
Edwards gave me a hard look. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m going to take it to the grand jury in two weeks. Let them look at it and let the cards fall where they may.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you’re not going to take the case to the grand jury. You’re going to issue a report clearing Smith of any wrong doing and listing it as a justified shooting by virtue of self-defense in the course of a home invasion.”
This time it was me shaking my head. “Not going to happen.”


He leaned forward over the desk.
“Bill, this is partly my fault. We made an agreement. I trusted your judgment. I always have. I’ve let you run the place. But I’ve always basically agreed with your decisions. Not this time. I know you think I’ve got personal reasons for this decision, but I think we just honestly disagree. I don’t think it would be right to destroy a man’s life for something you only ‘think’ he did.
“And, the agreement only stands as long I say it does. You are going to do what I asked you to do.”
I stood up. He leaned back and his eyes opened a little wider.
“No, Dallas, I’m not. I am going to the grand jury, as long as I’m the lead prosecutor.”
“That’s right. As long as you’re the lead prosecutor. Reconsider.” “I wish I could. I’ve thought about this for months. And I can’t.” He stood.
“If you’re intent on doing this, I’ll expect your resignation on my desk at the end of the day. You’re not just out as lead prosecutor. You’re out of this office and don’t expect a job in any State Attorney’s office in Florida. But as the Angel of Death, I’m sure you will land somewhere.”
“No. I’m not resigning. You can fire me. But there is something you should consider before you do anything you can’t take back.”

“What?”

“Like you said, I’m the Angel of Death. There are people all over this country, not just in Jacksonville, that would be intrigued by a story about a prosecutor so blinded by ambition for higher political office that he was willing to let a killer cop skate on the cold blooded murder of the father of two to avoid antagonizing cops and the African American community.”
I watched the ice descend over his eyes and a smile froze on his face.
“Are you threatening me? Me? You ungrateful son of a bitch. I gave you this office and let you play God for six years and this is how you repay me. Besides which, who do you think is going to even care about one case involving a cop that may or may not have broken the law?”
I smiled at him, and had to force myself. I didn’t want to do this. I did like and respect the man. But on this one he was wrong.
“How many people care about what Bill Maitland thinks? Probably not that many, although I think it would interest the local media. But the Angel of Death? A lot of people. It would at least give my charges an audience. Remember, you wanted to push the Angel of Death PR angle. Well, live by PR and die by PR.”
“No matter what, Bill, it’s only one charge. It will be forgotten. No one will care by next year.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“You’re a reader, Dallas. I know you’ve read John D. McDonald, the Travis McGee writer. There’s one...I think it’s “A Flash of Green”, although I might be wrong. You remember that one. It’s about a guy who’s a big big fish in a little pond and he thinks he can get away with anything. But an enemy manages to publicize a scandal he’s involved in.

“The big fish walks away from the scandal, but he’s going to be stuck in that little pond for the rest of his life. A line has been drawn around the Little Pond and as long as he stays in it, he’ll be safe. But if he ever steps outside it, the scandal he’s been tarred with will be brought up. He’ll never win higher political office or move to a higher level in business. Because no one will want to have the scandal tar them.
“How does this apply to you, Dallas? Well, there will be a well-publicized scandal about you betraying the public good to curry favor with cops and miniorities in the archives of most major newspapers and organizations around the country.
“When you go for governor next Fall, how many negative ads will be run quoting a prominent prosecutor about how you can’t be trusted to protect the public good?”
He was leaning forward on his desk and I noticed the knuckles were turning white as he pressed down.
“Doesn’t matter if the charges prove out or not. All a lot of long suffering white voters will see is another politician currying favor with blacks and minorities, and a lot of minorities who don’t trust cops will just see another politician who lets cops go around killing people and getting away with it.
“You run for Governor and you’re going to get screwed from both ends. It’s hard enough to win any elective office without those kind of lead weights around you.
“You fire me and I go public, you might as well learn to love being the State Attorney here, or maybe run for Mayor. Because you’re never going to rise any higher, and all those dreams you had of doing good for the state can be put into a drawer somewhere.”
Finally he eased his grip on his desk and sat back down. Taking a deep breath, he said, “That French woman you’re banging has one hell of a body.”
I know my mouth dropped open.
“That change of subject just gave me whiplash. Where did that come from?” “Just a comment, Bill. I had no idea when I called the Captain of the Bonne
Chance and asked him to give you a babysitter that you’d wind up banging her. And not only that, but that she would follow you home. You think her husband knows what she’s up to?”


“Dallas, I knew you could be cold blooded when you wanted to be, but you honestly think that threatening the marriage of a woman I’m seeing is going to make me back off?”
He shrugged.
“Of course not, unless you care about her and her marriage. Of course if you did, you wouldn’t be banging her, would you?”
“Is there any point to this conversation? And how do you even know about her? Do you spy on all your employees?”
“No, only the ones that are important. Actually, Harry, you know him, he’s one of our investigators, was having an anniversary supper at the restaurant where you and your family showed up last weekend. He recognized you, and, naturally, knowing about your divorce, he spotted the good looking brunette sitting with you. He took a picture. It’s second nature with him.
“Well, since you’ve already had one breakdown and you’re vital to this office, I had her checked out. We employ a lot of investigators, you know. And I talked to the Captain of the Bonne Chance.
“So I know what happened on the Bonne Chance between you and Aline des-Jardins. I know she’s currently married, with one son. And I know her husband knows you from that investigation four years ago in Paris.
“That one kind of surprised me. You’re the guy who does the right thing, and you got a married woman to cheat on a man who took you under his wing and was your friend. You seduced a friend’s wife. Somehow, after that experience with Doug Baker, I wouldn’t have expected that of you.”

I should have just walked away, but I was curious to see where he was going. “That’s a low blow, Dallas, and you know it.”

“About as low as what you’ve done to Philippe Archambault.” “I repeat, what is the point?”

He smiled. Despite his nice guy image, he could be a bastard when he wanted to be. He wanted to be now.

“You know she’s never going to stay with you, don’t you?” “So now you not only snoop, but you tell the future?”

“She’s been married for ten years. She’s had a few shipboard flings, but she always goes back to Philippe. She has a son to tie her to him. If they split she knows she’ll never get her son. Philippe is too high in the French government. He’ll get the boy. And so when her two weeks here is up, she’s gone. No matter what she tells you.”
I already knew that, but it sounded different coming from him. “Again, so? What do you care about my love life?”
He pointed to a photograph in a frame on his wall. It had been taken at a party the year after I was appointed lead prosecutor. He was there with his wife,


the two other Chief Assistants and their wives and at the end myself and...
I looked away from it, determined I wouldn’t let him read anything in my eyes or on my face about how the photo hit me.
“Aline is a passing fancy. You’re still in love with your ex. I saw it just then. Anybody that’s around you when she’s anywhere close can see it. You can lie through your teeth, but why bother. You can bang all the women you want around the courthouse, but there’s a hole in you and you’ve never going to fill it with anybody but her.”
“You’re so full of shit, but again, what does this have to do with me and Shawn Smith?”
“If you let Shawn Smith slide, I’ll run for Governor next year and get it. Even if I don’t get it, I’ll step down and I can arrange it so you’re appointed to follow me. That gives you four years to prepare for another run. With a four-year track record, my backing and that ‘Angel of Death’ reputation you can probably have the job as long as you want it.”

“And... ?”

“This job takes time, but not like yours. You’ll politic and handle a few cases, but this is only a 9-5, maybe a 9-6 Monday through Friday job. Being a prosecutor cost you your marriage. Being the boss will let you take back your life.”
“I don’t have a life, as you well know if you’re keeping tabs on me that closely.”
“You could, Bill. Your ex is seeing another instructor at UNF, a writer type named Clint Abbott. Seems like a decent guy but they’re just friends with benefits according to all we can tell.
“In the meantime, she’s buzzing around the courthouse in her new job and, according to some of our female staff, she manages to find reasons to come up to this floor many more times than she needs to. Almost as if she was trying to see, or be seen, by somebody.”
“If this was a Harlequin romance, I’d say you might have something. But there is nothing left between us, never will be.”
“You’re not the man you were six or seven months ago. And whatever she did is in the past. If you wanted her back, I’m betting you could get her.”
He turned the photo that sat on his desk next to his phone around so I could see it. It was a photo of himself, his wife in a low cut black gown and their two daughters, since married and mothers in their own right.
“Greta and I have been married for 30 years next February. It was the best thing I ever did. I was pretty wild in my younger days, but I’ve never regretted marrying. I’m proud of what I’ve done in public life. I’m proud of the job I’ve


done here, not least of which was picking you. But there’s nothing in my life that matters as much as she does.
“I know you love this job. I know you’ve made sacrifices for it. But you can’t take the damned job to bed with you at night. You can’t hold the fucking job in your arms when life kicks you in the teeth and you need human contact. Aline won’t be in your life. You can’t fill it with temporary stand-ins.”
He turned the photo back toward him.
“You’re not just giving up this job if you go forward with the grand jury on Shawn Smith. You’re giving up any hope of ever putting your life back together, of winning Debbie back.”
I was determined that the puppet master wouldn’t know that he had just kicked me in the guts with his words.
“We playing a scene from Faust now, Boss? You’re Mephistopheles offering to grant me my fondest wish if I’ll only surrender my soul?”
“Just think about it, Bill. You said you won’t do anything for a couple of weeks. I gather you’re waiting to see what happens with Aline. All I ask if that you think about what we’ve talked about before you make a final decision. You’ve waited this long. Give it a couple of weeks.”
“I won’t change my mind.” “I’m hoping you will.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2005 -- 2 P.M.

Judge Leonard Pizaro looked first at Lew Walters and then at me. “You gentlemen ready to proceed?”
Judy Johansen sat in an orange jail jumpsuit at Walters’ side. He had railed and pissed and moaned about the prejudicial impact of his client having to wear prison garb. When Pizaro mentioned that there was no jury to prejudice and that it was he, Pizaro, who had ordered her to wear the jumpsuit, all Lew could do was grin and throw his hands up.
“I had to try, your honor,” he said.
Pizaro smiled back. A long, long, long time ago, I knew that he had been a legal hotshot. He had a grudging admiration for Lew’s showboating he’d done his best to hide during the trial.
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Walters, but Ms. Johansen has been convicted of premeditated first degree murder. There is no bail because with the money she has at her disposal she would be too great a flight risk. That means she has to be housed in the Duval County Jail and there is no rationale for allowing her to possess different clothing. Do you disagree?”
“No sir, your honor.”
“Are you ready to proceed with your arguments and witnesses?”


“Yes, your honor,” he said humbly.
As he turned to speak to his client I mouthed “asskisser” and grinned at him.
When he just gave me a weak smile and bent over to talk to Judy I got a bad feeling. It wasn’t like him not to give me shit about something like that. I’d talk with him after we finished.
Jessica Stephens had come up from behind me with a file I’d requested thirty minutes before. It wasn’t like her to be late to hearings. Strange things.
“Is everything alright, Jessica?” I asked, looking at her curiously. She swept a few strands of her hair back. I noted that a button at the top of her blouse was unbuttoned. And she was wearing hose, but one leg showed a flesh of flesh at the top. I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Jessica?” I said. She caught my eye and I slowly looked up and down. She noticed the unbuttoned button as my gaze dropped she looked down and spotted the errant pantyhose. Her face turned an attractive shade of crimson.
“Anything we need to talk about?”
She looked up toward the front row of seats behind the defense. It was the reporters’ row. I spotted the dark hair and barrel chest of TU reporter Carl Cameron. He was smiling at Jessica, the kind of goofy, loopy expression a man has after really good sex. I glanced at him, then back at Jessica.

“Where?”

She blushed deeper, if that was possible.

“The bailiff’s room behind Judge Pizaro’s chambers.” I broke into a smile.

“You slut, you.”

She held her left hand out. There was a diamond ring on the second finger. A respectable diamond in a white gold setting.

“Carl?”

She nodded. “When?”

“We got married Sunday. No time for a honeymoon so we’re...”

“Doing it everywhere you can. Well, congratulations, Jessica. You let him make an honest woman out of you. I’m happy for both of you.”

‘It took me a long time, but I finally realized that I didn’t want to live without him. No matter what it cost me.”

I knew what it had cost her.

“You did the right thing, Jessica. Being married is a good thing. And if anybody catches you, at least you’ve got a marriage license.”

“Mr. Maitland?”

Pizarro’s voice cut through our conversation and I looked up to see one of Judy’s sons approaching the witness stand.

“Sorry, your honor.”
We sat down and I heard Judy’s two sons talk about what a loving mother she had been and a good wife to her first husband. I heard them tell Pizaro what a son of a bitch Clark Carroll, the husband she had murdered by messing around with his heart medicine, had been to their mother.
Of course, it had been mental abuse, simply because there weren’t any confirmed medical records of physical abuse and she had never complained of it during their marriage.
Judy followed and told the judge how she has fallen in love with a forceful millionaire and been swept off her feet by him. But, she said, after they’d married he had changed, at least in part because his children hated her and wanted to keep her from inheriting any of his fortune.
He had been insanely jealous and bitter because he was unable to function sexually and made her life a living hell. But he had been clever and kept his torments hidden from the outside world.
She smiled at the judge, a sad smile, as she said, “I’m not proud of what I did, your honor. I cheated on Clark. But I’m not dead yet. I’m a woman with a woman’s urges. I wanted to be with Carroll, but it wasn’t just that he couldn’t physically satisfy me. He was so bitter, so jealous while I was still faithful to him, that we couldn’t even cuddle, couldn’t do the non-sexual things a loving couple can enjoy.
“I turned to another man because I was lonely. I needed a man’s touch. I’m sorry, but I did.”
Then she stared at me, a stare that should have turned water to ice.
“But I did not kill my husband deliberately. Mr. Maitland was able to fool the jury into believing that a mistake was murder. But I didn’t mean to kill him. He made my life a living hell at the end, but I never wanted him dead. I knew he was in pain and he knew I was cheating on him. I was hurting him and I felt guilty about that. But as God is my judge, I did not kill him purposefully.”
Lew had done a good job of preparing her. She actually sounded believable and if she had been testifying before a jury, I might have worried. But she was testifying before a man who had been hearing such statements for 30 years. And he had long ago learned to distinguish truth from bullshit.
When Pizaro called on me I stood up and walked toward Lew’s table.
“Ms. Johansen did a very good job in her testimony. I congratulate Mr. Walters on his preparation. I’m not going to introduce any witnesses and my comments will be short and, I hope, to the point.”
I turned away from Judy and Lew and walked to the center of the courtroom facing Pizaro.


“Your honor, the jury, the triers of fact, have determined that Ms. Johansen with premeditation deliberately gave her husband medication that she knew would kill him. They convicted her of first degree murder. Therefore, her denial of her role in his death simply is of no consequence. It’s moot. The jury said otherwise.
“Ms. Johansen herself admitted on the witness stand that she had ample motive to kill her husband. She took a lover, who testified that she told him she was going to kill Clark Carroll. Even if you believe Ms. Johansen about Mr. Carroll’s alleged abuse, that merely strengthens the argument that she had reason to kill him.
“And finally, it is clear that Ms. Johansen could have easily escaped Mr. Carroll’s abusive ways, simply by divorcing him. But, if she had done that, she would not have been in line to inherit his millions. Thus she had another reason to murder him.”
I looked back at Judy. She had tried so hard. And it was all for nothing. “That will conclude the state’s arguments, your honor.”
Pizaro took a slow and deliberate drink of water from a glass in front of him and then spoke to Judy.
“Ms. Johansen. Would you please stand. Mr. Walters. Mr. Maitland.” I looked at her instead of Pizaro,
“I really don’t need any more time to consider your sentence, Ms. Johansen. Nothing had been said here today that really changes the facts proven in this case. You have been found guilty of premeditated first degree murder. The possible sentence could be death. But in my opinion, this crime does not reach the level where a death sentence could be justified.
“Life in prison without parole is another option. In my judgment, however, this crime not reach that level of punishment either. At your age, I believe a substantial punishment would consist of a mandatory ten-year sentence, without possibility of parole, to be followed by ten years' probation.
“You’re welcome to appeal this sentence, and I expect you will, but considering what you could have faced, I don’t think any appeal will be upheld. And that is another reason for the sentence. I believe it will forestall an avalanche of appeals that will do nothing but further clog up the court system.
“The bailiff will now take you back, Ms. Johansen, and you will be transported to the women’s section of the state’s minimum security prison at Lawtey within the next two days. Good luck to you.”
She just stood there for a long moment, her face frozen in a hopeful smile. One of her sons groaned, another fell back into his seat sobbing. She was their mother. It wasn’t unexpected.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Two women bailiffs approached her. I walked over as they did. She stared at me as if she didn’t know who I was. It was one thing to expect to serve the balance of your life in prison. Another for it to be made real. She probably was beginning to go into shock.

“Judy,” I said softly enough that only she and Lew could hear me. “You might live to leave prison. You’re a pretty healthy lady. But you won’t be that well off. Carroll’s children are challenging the will, and with your conviction against you, I’d say they have a good chance of taking every dollar away from you. I’d watch my pennies if I was you.”
That shocked her back to reality. “Why do you hate me, Maitland?”
“I don’t hate you, Judy. Actually I feel sorry for you. If you’d hung in there another year or two, he’d have died and you’d have gotten most of his money. You’d still have been young enough to enjoy spending it. There are some hot 70-year-olds. And 70-year-olds worth millions don’t have any trouble finding playmates.
“But you got greedy. And impatient. Think about that for the next ten years as you go to sleep in a bunk bed with some interesting bunkmates.”
As the bailiffs led her away, Lew said from behind me, “That was cold, Bill.” “She’s doing better than Clark Carroll. But...”
I turned to face him. He’d bent over to collect papers he was shuffling into a briefcase.
“Are you alright, Lew?” “Why?”
“You just don’t seem like yourself, today. Where’s the old swagger? Where is the Shark we’ve all grown to know and laugh at?”
He gave me a mild smile at the jibe but there was definitely something wrong.
“Maybe you just beat the swagger out of me. The Angel of Death took me out.”
“Hell, I’ve beaten you before and you didn’t act like your best friend died.
Level with me. What is it?”
“I just...it’s nothing, Bill. Just take a few bows and prepare your concession speech because the next time you go up against me, it will be me handing you your head.”
“I hate to say this to a professional, but you’re a piss poor liar. C’mon man, this is me. You want to go somewhere for a coffee? I can take the rest of the day off if you want to knock back a few cold ones.”
He shook his head.


“Sorry, Bill. I have a few things to do and then I have to get ready to fly out. I’ve got a case they just called me in on in San Fran. A big payday and I need some time to prepare for opening motions. I have to leave tonight.”
I knew to a certainty there was something wrong. Talk of big money didn’t rouse a smile. That wasn’t Lew. But someone tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, Heather McDonald smiled and hugged me.
“I’m sorry I was late. I wanted to be here for the actual sentencing but I had to make a meeting of detectives. But they just told me. Ten years. I guess that’s acceptable, right?”
“She’ll be nearly 80 when she gets out. I think Pizaro figured that was enough, if she even makes it out. And I just told her Carroll’s kids will probably succeed in breaking their father’s will, so when she does get out she won’t be a pauper, but she won’t be any multi-millionaire. All in all, I think she had a pretty shitty day.”
She licked her lips and I just smiled. She knew what she was doing, as her answering smile showed.
“Congratulations, Bill. You did good.”
“We did good. I wrote a memo to Knight praising you to the skies, although right now I don’t think praise from me is going to do you any favors over at the cop shop. Didn’t anyone tell you that you shouldn’t be seen talking to me.”
“I know what’s going on, Bill. But a lot of us don’t think Knight should be putting the whole department and its reputation behind a guy who shot a man in the back. You still have friends there.”
“Thanks, Heather, but you should keep your head down. Don’t get in the middle on this one because it could get ugly.”
“I won’t be signing any petitions, but remember if you need a friend, just pick up the phone. Oh, by the way...”
She turned slightly as a tall, dark haired young guy who just had the look of a plainclothes detective walked up to stand beside her. The looks they exchanged told me the story.
“Mr. Maitland, this is Detective Rob Goland. He’s in homicide. Rob, this is Bill Maitland, the guy I was telling you about. The best prosecutor in the state.”
He reached out and I shook his head. He smiled but he moved to put himself slightly between us. He was letting me know who she belonged to. She gave me a little contented grin.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Maitland. Heather has told me all about you.” From behind his back she mouthed, “not all.”
“Well, I appreciate the kind words but she’s the one that really put Judy Jacobsen away. Not me. She’s very good at what she does.”


She couldn’t help shaking her head a little bit at that, but the kid didn’t pick up on it. I doubt he was thirty. More like twenty five or twenty six.
“Mr. Maitland, I just wanted to come by to check on the verdict. We’ve got to run. We’re going to grab a bite. Rob, would you go on ahead and grab a car and pick me up at the front. I just need to take care of one more piece of business with Mr. Maitland.”
“Sure. See you later, Mr. Maitland.”
After he left the courtroom, she moved closer and said, “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to get back together, Bill. I’ve missed...you know.”
“Yeah, but...right now I’m involved. So...”
She reached out and again I shook a hand. This time she held my own between hers and squeezed. It looked professional.
“I understand, Bill. I didn’t expect it to be anything more than a one-time thing. And, really, I couldn’t do much now. Rob and I. we’re uh..”
“He’s a good looking guy. But he’s lucky to have a hot item like you to hang with. Isn’t he a little old for you, though.”
“Smart alec. What can I say. It’s the older woman thing. Love it.”
“Well, Heather, go on and have your ‘dinner.’ But seriously, don’t get involved in this Shawn Smith thing. You have to live and work in that department, and right now I’m poison. You take care of yourself. I’ll be fine.”
I was the only one left except for a single court reporter finishing up her work, and one lone bailiff who apparently didn’t have anywhere else to be. I still felt funny about Lew so I headed down to Starbucks and realized I’d gotten lucky when I saw him grabbing a coffee and turning around to leave the courthouse.

“Lew.”

“Now you’re following me? You’re not getting a crush on me, are you? That would be sticky, to say the least.”

He sounded more like himself, but not enough.

“Lew, we’ve been friends for a long time. I’m not trying to pry, really, but is there anything I can help with. Professionally or personally?”

He stopped by the doors to the outside and took a sip of coffee.

“No. Your antenna are good as always, but this isn’t anything you can bring your powers to bear on.”

“Personal?” He nodded.

“It’s Mona. Mona and you. You remember the first thing you said when I called you about Debbie and me splitting. So I’ll ask you. Did you do something stupid?”
He shook his head and just looked at the floor.

“Tell me or I’ll just keep bugging the hell out of you until you do.”

Keeping his eyes down, he said, “You know Mona and I......we’ve been trying.   for kids. For awhile.”

“Yeah, although I wonder about your sanity sometimes. Sorry. I know it’s not funny for you.”

“Well....we uh....found out.... not too long ago.”

“What?”

“It’s Mona. She can’t. you know. So it’s over.”

Neither one of us said anything for a moment. “Have you thought about-“

“It’s over, Bill. It’s over.” He met my stare.

“It’s uh—things have been tense since then. But...we’ll get through it. Right now, it kind of...seems like I should be giving her a little space. That’s why I’m taking the case. She’s been out of the country for a little while. We just need some time.”
“God knows I’m not an expert in keeping marriages together, but, you don’t think you guys should be talking? Maybe see somebody?”
“Right now, she...uh....doesn’t want that much to do with me. We....I didn’t take the news well.”

He took another sip and then said, “I do have to go, Bill. I’ll be in touch.” I grabbed his arm before he could push the door open.

“I’d talk to Mona if you wanted me to. Sometimes an outside party....................................................................................... ”

“Just leave it alone, Bill. You have enough on your plate. We’ll be alright.” And he was gone.

I just stood there looking at the streams of people entering and leaving. How many of them had good marriages. Or relationships? How the hell did men and women ever manage to stay together?
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 7: HE WILL HURT YOU


They say half of all marriages end in divorce. Mine, which I’d always thought would be the exception, wasn’t. Most cops I knew, not all, but a lot, were on their second or third tries. The insurance salesman – Dan whatever his name was from the Bonne Chance, was on his second still bleeding from his first.
There were good marriages, of course. My mother had lost my father to a mine cave-in, but she’d been married to her second, a quiet, stoop-shouldered guy name Charles for more than 15 years, and I thought they had it together.
Debbie’s mother and father had one of the good ones, and they’d been together for 40 years. Dallas Edwards and his wife were another pair of old-timers who had only one marriage between them.
Another Assistant SA named Dave Brandon and his wife were a couple joined at the hip, seen together always, raising kids who would come to toast them at their 50th or 60th.
So I know it’s possible.
Hard, but possible. So why am I sleeping with a married woman and hoping against hope that she will choose to toss her marriage away to join me. How can I be doing this?

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2005 2:30 A.M.

She rolled back and forth on the bed. Jesus Christ, she’d never realized how big the bed was. She was half awake, in that state where you know you’re on the brink of waking, but can’t quite do it. She thought of Clint, of Doug, of men and cocks from long away and her fingers ran down her thighs but she couldn’t make herself enter herself.
She thought of Bill, and her defenses were down and she couldn’t make herself stop thinking about him. God damn, but he was looking good. Trim and hard and cold. At least around her. He was probably hot and filling that bitch’s cunt with his cum every night and every day.
Just like she’d known he would. She had always known.
“You bastard. You bulldoze your way into my life. And you desert me for your damned job...and who knows what or who else. Just like I knew you would. Just like she said you would.”
As the thought flashed in her mind it was like a key unlocking a door to a hidden room. And she was....
...walking up to the long plate glass front of a bar she and Bill had been in one time years before. O’Brien’s was a honky tonk, or a dive or whatever word you wanted to use. It wasn’t the kind of place she or Bill hung out in anymore. Although she knew Bill liked it.


She had called MaryJane, one of Clarice’s only friends from before the divorce, looking for her aunt.
They had used to talk almost every day but it had been nearly two weeks. Clarice had been the most beautiful, the most elegeant woman Debbie had known growing up. Much of what she knew about men, about being a woman, she had copied from her aunt.
Since that bastard husband of hers had dumped her, she’d fallen to pieces. Debbie knew she’d been frantically dating, going out with guys way too old or way too young for her to be seeing, anything to keep a man in her life while Frank was squiring around the little tramp that was carrying his baby.
MaryJane, Clarice’s oldest friend, had been oddly reluctant to talk to her, finally saying only that Clarice had been getting more and more wild, more reckless in who she saw and what she did with men. MaryJane was no prude. She’d been divorced three times and had a long list of men friends, but...
“I’m worried about her Debbie. She’s doing stupid things. She’s having unprotected sex. I saw her get into a car with a guy and I know he fucked her without a condom. I’ve talked to her, but she won’t listen to me. Maybe she’d listen to you.”
MaryJane hadn’t been sure where she was tonight, but she thought that she remembered Clarice talking about meeting “some young studs” for a party beginning at O’Brien’s on the Westside.
Debbie had thought about asking Bill to go with her, but as usual he was working late on a case and even if he’d been available, he just didn’t like Clarice. Or at least he didn’t feel the sympathy that Debbie did.
But he hadn’t grown up with her. She wasn’t a second mother to him. And he had always been so damned rigid and moralistic. Clarice always said he must have been born with a stick up his ass.
Now she was inside and it was fairly un-crowded for 8 p.m. on a Thursday night. There were people at the big horseshoe shaped bar, some couples dancing, others playing pool. She looked around but didn’t see a blonde almost as tall as she was anywhere.
Two of the pool players, pseudo cowboys with black hats, moseyed on over and smiling, asked her if she felt like a game or...something.
The taller one just grinned and never took his eyes off her boobs. The shorter one, who at least had the manners to pretend to be checking out her face, asked if they could buy her a drink if she wasn’t with somebody.
“No thank you, boys, although the offer is appreciated. If I didn’t have business, I’d love to play with you...”
She grinned as she said it, knowing their tongues would be dragging the floor and they’d do almost anything she asked now that she had flirted harmlessly with


them. Sometimes it seemed almost unfair to take advantage of men’s horniness. Sometimes...
“I’m looking for a friend. An older lady. Blonde. About 5-8. Mid-50s. She might have been in here with some friends—male friends. Any chance you might have seen her in here tonight?”
They exchanged glances.
The taller one managed to drag his gaze away from her chest and said, “Yeah, I think she’s in here. She headed into the bathroom. I guess those other guys must have gone in with her to hold her hand.”
The look she flashed him made him quickly add, “Probably they all just had to go at the same time. A lot of beer gets drunk in here.”
“Thanks boys. Maybe I’ll see you in here again someday.”
She walked across the room trying to tone down her natural wiggle. It came naturally after so many years of practicing it, but they’d been helpful and there was no need to tease the animals in the zoo.
As she approached the bathrooms painted with Western Cowboys and Cowgirls art, she hoped she was wrong about what might be happening back here.
She walked into the Cowgirls’ bathroom. It was a big place. There was somebody in a stall and a girl who looked to be 15 with long straight hair, no boobs, and a pierced bellybutton putting lipstick on in the mirror.
The girl gave her a quick glance and quick as that Debbie knew she had earned another enemy. Women were bitches. She glanced at the bottom of the occupied stall. The legs were black.
She pushed on the door to the Cowboys’ bathroom and it moved a little then stopped. Someone was blocking the door.
“It’s occupied. I got a sick friend in here. Let me get him cleaned up and you can come in.”
She stepped back two paces and hit it at a run, trying to take the impact on her shoulder. The door swung open hard and the man who’d been blocking it went down to his hands and knees. Beyond him was...

“Clarice!”

The guy who had been grinding his heel into her naked breast stared at Debbie for a moment, then lunged at her.

“Bitch. Grab her you morons.”

Debbie put all of her weight into the kick that landed squarely between his legs and left him gasping on the floor.

Before she could move the guy she’d pushed away from the door had grabbed her from behind. She tried to kick backwards but he was smart enough to wrap her legs up with his own.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

With her arms pinned, she started to scream. With the music outside, and this far back, they might not hear her, but no one was going to hold her down again and use her against her will. Not without a fight.

The third man who’d been standing over Clarice came at her and she braced herself. She didn’t even think about it as she shouted, “You touch me and my husband will hunt you down.”
He didn’t stop but barreled into her, grabbing her by the shoulders and using his momentum to slam her and the guy behind her into the wall next to the door.
The head of the guy holding her slammed hard into the wall and the man holding her shoulders rammed him into the wall again hard. The man behind Debbie loosened his grip and the man in front of her grabbed Debbie and threw her to one side.
The man he’d rammed into the wall put his hands up only to get a fist to the face that bounced him off the wall again. In the next instant, the third man who’d thrown Debbie to the floor had him in a bear hug up against the wall.
As they struggled, the third man looked at the one Debbie had kicked in the balls. He had risen to his feet and started toward Debbie.
“Danny, don’t. You stupid bastard, don’t.”
“Are you crazy. The bitch could send us all to prison. Now we have to grab her and take her somewhere where we can convince her to keep her mouth shut.”
“Let go of me Bobby.”
“Both of you, shut up. Listen to me. We are so, so close to spending the rest of our lives in Raiford, if we even get that far.”
“Yeah, if we let her call for help. I’m not going down for banging some old slut that wanted it.”

The one called Bobby kept his arms around the man he was holding. “LISTEN. Listen to me. I’ve seen her. I’ve done work around the courthouse.

She’s that guy Maitland’s wife. He’s the top State Attorney in Jacksonville. “Touching her is worse than going after a cop’s wife. He’s an asshole and if

the stories I’ve heard are true, we hurt her and we won’t live to go to trial.” “You might not make it that far anyway.”

The three men looked at the doorway and the short dark haired man who stood there tapping a baseball bat lightly in one hand.
Debbie recognized the owner of the bar, O’Brien, and she knew of his reputation. With or without the baseball bat, the three of them were about to enter a world of pain.
“You stupid assholes...you got the balls to do this in MY place. I hope you fight back, I really do.”
He gestured to the trio with one hand, beckoning to them.
“Come on, please try to get by me. I’m just one old man. You might make it.”


The man called Bobby let his friend go and held up his hands in a placating gesture as he backed away from the man with the bat.
“O’Brien, don’t. The old bitch wanted this. She told us she wanted us all and didn’t want to wait till we could go somewhere private. It turned her on to get gang banged in a public place. It got out of hand, but she wanted it. She did.”
“Call the cops, O’Brien,” Debbie said, rising unsteadily to her feet. Her nylons were ruined and her left breast was sore where she’d hit the floor.
“Already done, Mrs. Maitland.”
The three men looked from one to the other. Gauging their chances of making it past O’Brien against waiting for the cops to arrive. The one called Danny breathed hard and Debbie knew he was getting ready to charge.
As he set himself she stepped in behind him and buried the point of her right shoe deep into his balls from the back. He went down like a pole-axed steer.
“Debbie, baby, don’t.  ”
Debbie looked back at the woman on the floor. White strands of cum ran from her hair to her face to her half naked body. Piss had pooled around her on the floor. The smell of that the vomit on the floor and on her was enough to make Debbie nauseous. Clarice’s voice was so reedy and thin Debbie almost couldn’t hear her.
She knelt down beside her and pulled her body close to her, ignoring the smell.
“What, Clarice. what?”
She whispered into Debbie’s ear, “no, let them go, please.”
“No. I’m not going to let them go after what they did to you. They bangd you, the bastards. Bill will send every one of them to Raiford for life.”
“please...please..just take me home.  ”
“How can you ask me to do that? God, Clarice, look at what they did.  ”
Her aunt forced her with one trembling hand to look into her eyes.
“It’s true, baby. I came in here of my own free will. I wanted them...to.  and
it just got...out of hand.  ”
“They still didn’t have the right-“
“Deb....if they’re arrested....it will all come out.....and Frank...with that little bimbo of his...will get a good laugh.  at how desperate for cock I am since I lost
his. I couldn’t stand it. I’d kill myself.”
“It’s not right that they get away with this.”

“They’re just pigs, like every other man. I let them have me. It’s my fault.” It took her just a second. The cops would be here any time.

“O’Brien, let them pass.” “No.”

“Please, for me. For Bill. I know he likes you and this dive. She’s my aunt. I can’t let this go public. Please.”
He stood there for an interminable minute then stepped back. The three men stepped warily around them. As they passed he touched Bobby on the shoulder and Bobby froze.
“I know your daddy, Bobby. You and your friends will never come in here again. If you see me on the street, you’ll cross to the other side. Because if you ever cross my path again, I’ll hurt you, and I’ll tell your daddy exactly what kind of animal he raised. And you know that will break his heart.”
Bobby nodded and the three men stumbled away. “What can I do?”

“Can you get me a blanket or big towel, and is there a back way out of here?” When he came back she took the towel and said, “Please, keep everyone out and don’t come back for a few minutes. And, O’Brien, for the love of God, don’t

ever tell Bill anything about this.” She could read the question.
“He’s never liked Clarice and he won’t have any respect for her if he finds out. And he won’t let it lie. He’ll go after them and it will all go public and she’ll be humiliated. No matter what it looks like, she deserves better than that.”
He finally nodded.
“Nothing ever happened back here. Just another boring night.”
As she walked by him she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He touched it as she passed and said with a smile, “Now I can’t ever wash my face again.”
Ten minutes later she had a shivering Clarice slumped over in the front seat of her 2001 Cadilac CTS. It was Autumn, early September, but unseasonably cool and her aunt couldn’t stop shivering. Debbie had done everything she could to wipe the fluids off her and clean her hair, but she was still a mess. There was an ugly bruise on the side of one breast.
“It’ll be okay, Clarice. Thank God you didn’t let them....inside you without protection. No telling what those assholes might be carrying.”
Clarice kept her eyes closed but said, “It’s okay baby. I know you think I’m a miserable slut. Sucking off three men in a bathroom. Not the way you remember me, is it?”
“Clarice...God knows I can’t act Holier than thou. You’ve pulled me out of some nasty situations. You know what I was like. You remember the time when I was 16 and you stormed into that Biker Bar at the Beach and pulled out a .38 and threatened to start shooting off balls if they didn’t toss my drunken ass out of that place.”
She smiled for the first time since Debbie had seen her lying on the floor of O’Briens.


“Wasn’t that a night, Baby? You remember the fat guy. He crapped in his pants when I put a bullet into his thigh.”
“And you said, ‘Sorry my aim was off. Next one leaves you peeing out of a tube for the rest of your life’.”
Clarice slumped back against the seat, tears starting to run down her face. “That was a long time ago, Baby. When I had a life. And a husband.”
Debbie reached over and took her aunt’s hand. It was cold and clammy.
“You’re still a beautiful woman, Clarice. You don’t need to be going into bathrooms with creeps like that. There are a ton of guys that would trip over their tongues to get at you if you’d clean up and wear something low cut. Show a little boob. You always had great breasts.”
“Fat old guys that can’t get it up and can’t keep it up when they do. And they won’t lick your pussy but get pissed if you won’t spend hours sucking their lollypop, and they act like they’re doing you a favor by letting you suck on their limp linguini.”
She opened her eyes and wiped the tears away with the back of her hands.
“You don’t know, Baby. You don’t know. You’re young and your boobs still are firm. They’re sagging cause they’re so big, but guys go crazy for big ones that sag like that. They know they’re getting the real thing. Wait till your boobs start heading for your belly button.
“Wait till the wrinkles get so deep even botox won’t get them out. And your skin starts to sag and you get those first blemishes.
“Wait till young guys approach you cause they like the view from the rear, but once they see how old you are they look like they found a rat turd in their soup and can’t get away from you fast enough.”
She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I want to be you so bad. I want young men with big hard dicks to try to get their hands on my boobs, to be rubbing my ass and creaming in their jeans when I accidentally touch them.
“I want to be young again, baby. And for a little while in that bathroom, before they got mean, I felt young. They were so damned big and hard and they wanted me.”
And then she was at Clarice’s Southside home and so damned grateful that BJ was spending the night with a friend and Kelly was on a trip to Atlanta with a friend and her family so she didn’t have to be home with them. When Bill called, she’d make up some lie about spending the night over with Clarice—a girls’ night out.
Debbie helped Clarice out of the car. She was drunk and hard to hold up, but it made Debbie’s skin crawl. She moved like an old woman. And she wasn’t that old. Only 20 years older than she was. She wasn’t old. Not yet.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She got her to the shower and then stripped her off. Clarice still smelled of piss and cum and it was still in her hair. She propped the older woman in a corner and let her slide down, then turned hot water on and went to a bedroom to strip off. She came back and knelt down beside the older woman and started shampooing her hair to get the smell and stickiness out.

Clarice turned her face toward her under the cascading hot water and kissed her on the forehead. She didn’t know why, but Debbie felt like crying herself.
“You know I love you, Baby, don’t you. You’re the daughter I never had.
That I could never give Frank.” “I love you too, Clarice.”
“It’s too late for me, Baby, but it’s not too late for you.”
“It’s not too late. You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you. There’ll be another man. Frank is a stupid asshole and he doesn’t know what he’s thrown away.”
“He’s a stupid asshole, but I still love him and I always will. I loved the man, as much as a woman can love a man. I would have done anything for him. I did. I let him have me every way a woman could. I did three ways because it excited him.”
“He didn’t deserve you,” and now Debbie was crying.
“No, he didn’t. But it doesn’t matter. My life is over. It will never be good again. But you still have time.”
“Time for what?”
“Frank is a dog. A cunt sniffing dog. Like all men. They will all turn on you. They don’t love the way we do. You get old, and they start sniffing around for new stuff.
“My own brother, as much as I love him, is no better. I know you’ve never heard of it, but when he and your mother were going around, he dumped her and started screwing every piece of ass he could find. She chased him for a year before he finally took her back.”
Debbie just stared at her, disbelieving.
“It’s okay. He’s your father. You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true. And Bill will do the same thing to you if he isn’t doing it already.”
“No. Maybe he’s let himself go and he’s not the man he was, but he’s a good man. He wouldn’t-“
“I said the same thing about Frank. He was special because he was mine but he let himself get a belly and he started losing his hair. But he still found that bitch who spread her legs for him because he’s got money and power. Bill’s not the man he was in bed because somebody else is getting what he used to give to you.”
“Clarice, you’re wrong. Bill’s not that kind of man. I’d know, I’d sense it if he was-“

“Just like I would have known what Frank was up to.” “You’re wrong, Clarice. You’re just wrong.”

Clarice took her face in her hands and stared into hers with dead eyes.

“He will hurt you, Baby. He will hurt you. I hope I’m not around when your world falls apart like mine did. But it’s coming. Please, don’t let him. Protect yourself. Find someone. Don’t be like me...not like me...”
Lying on her too-big bed, Debbie stared at the ceiling in the darkness and whispered, “You were right, Clarice. But... I protected myself and see what it got me.”
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2005 -- 4:30 P.M.
I picked up the phone after Cheryl buzzed me. I was trying to get out of the place by 5 p.m. for a change. The internal clock of the time I had left with Aline was running and it felt like something was chasing me and it was gaining on me.
“Ms. Martinez is down here. Can you talk to her?”
I wondered if Edwards had a message for me or if he was sending her down in another attempt to change my mind. Or if he had told her what was going on and she had her own reasons.
“Send her in.”
A minute later she jiggled in. I had to smile. She was almost like a cartoon caricature of the female earth mother figure. But nobody was going to laugh at this cartoon.
She wasn’t smiling. That in itself was unusual.
“Ms. Martinez. To what do I owe this pleasure? Did Mr. Edwards have a message for me?”
“Dallas told me what’s going on. You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” “Yes.”
“It wouldn’t do any good to ask you to back off, would it?”
“Did Edwards send you down, Myra? Actually, I have to tell you, I had a higher opinion of you. I didn’t think you’d use that face and body as a bargaining chip.”
It was the first time I’d ever seen her really angry. I was glad the desk was between me and her. If she couldn’t get her hands on me, she could probably beat me to death with those 50 pound tits.
“You can be such a stupid bastard sometimes, Bill. I should tell you to go screw yourself because you’re never going to get any of this now.”
As she said “now” she placed her hands under those huge orbs and lifted them toward me as if offering them on a silver platter. I wouldn’t have done it, not really, but I could have fantasized for a moment about cheating on Aline—just for the pure physical joy of sex with this fantastic creature.


She let them sink and said, “But unfortunately, you and I both know I’d be lying. I am hurt, though. You really think I’d prostitute myself to help Dallas get his way?”
“Myra, I’ve never asked, but I know you have a ‘special relationship’ with Dallas And that’s okay. You’re both adults. But I know you work ‘closely’ with him, and I know how bad he wants me to change my mind about Smith. So it’s a question I had to ask.”
She gave me a strange look.
“I do have a special relationship with Dallas. He’s a wonderful man. Although it may not be the relationship everyone thinks it is. But he’s never asked me to use my body to help him out. I know him. He never would.”
“Okay, I apologize. Why are you here, Myra?”
“I did ask Dallas what was going on between you two and he told me. You are really prepared to give up ten years in this office, eleven now I guess, to prosecute one case where even you admit there might be some room for reasonable people to disagree.
“I’ve always admired you for being a pit bull when you thought you were right. But there’s stubbornness, and there’s obsession.”
“Sometimes it’s a hard area to draw a line. Maybe I’m just holding fast to what I think is right. Maybe I’m persecuting the poor bastard. But I have to do what I think is right and I can’t let this one slide.”
“You really don’t think he’ll fire you if you go ahead, do you? I know you probably think you’re the only person in the world who’ll walk through fire to do the right thing, but he’s the same kind of guy.
“I think he will fire you if you push it, even if it kills any future political hopes he might have.”
I tried by force of will to make the erection that was threatening to turn my zipper into shrapnel go away, but watching her breath, those red lips and those emerald eyes sparkling with anger or lust, and who the hell cared which, made me realize that while love is said to be the strongest force in the universe, sheer rampant physical lust runs it a close second.
“He might fire me, Myra. I know that. But, really, so what? The world will go on turning. I’ll go work somewhere else.
“Maybe I’ve been here too long anyway. Maybe moving on is what I need. Being somewhere away from...memories...might be a good thing. And the office will go on. Whoever comes after me will do their best. No one is indispensable.”
“No, nobody’s indispensable, Bill. But you’re very good at what you do because you care about the people who get hurt by the bad guys. It’s never been a job for you.


“That’s one of the things that has attracted me to you. You’re not just another lawyer. It’s never been a game to you. You’re not one of those guys who can lose a case, go out and have a few drinks and leave it at the office.”
“It’s not that great a quality, Myra. It cost me my wife. And almost cost me my kids. I’d have been better off if I could leave it at the office.”
She reached across the desk and laid her hand over mine. I thought, this is it, my zipper is going to explode. But it didn’t.
“I’m being selfish, Bill. I don’t want you to leave Jacksonville. I still want my shot if ....this thing with the French woman doesn’t work out. But, I know that the chance for the hottest sex you’ll ever have in this world isn’t going to be enough to change your mind.
“So just think about this. Whoever comes after you isn’t going to be you. People that you would have helped, would have championed, are going to suffer. A lot of them. Is prosecuting one man worth depriving all those other people of the chance for justice?”
I didn’t even bother to answer her. What would have been the use. After a long moment she took her hand back. She shook her head and stood up.
“You are an infuriating bastard,” she said. “I don’t know if I want to slap your stupid face, or drop down and give you the greatest blow job you’ve ever had.”
She walked out and left me barely breathing.
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 8: I’LL BE ALRIGHT...‘TIL THE HURTING START

Everything ends. And we pay a price for every moment of happiness in this life.
I wish I could be 18 again and have no idea what was coming. At 18 I had known my share of heartbreak, but at that age you’re immortal and you know things will ultimately work out.
It’s only later that you realize that’s the bait that God or whoever sets out in front of us to keep us going.
SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 -- 9 P.M.
We stood on the River walk watching the big yacht gently roll on the waves lapping against the river bulwark. The lights of restaurants and stores lit up the darkness behind us, but here there were only a few isolated lights on poles casting shadows onto the water of the St. Johns.
“It’s beautiful,” Aline said. It was cool enough that she shivered a little in her off-the-shoulder red dress.
We had had dinner at Benny’s, arguably the best steak house in Jacksonville, then walked along the St. Johns looking at the private yachts anchored at berths along the river. Their owners boated in to eat at restaurants and hit the few night clubs worthy of the name in Jacksonville.
The yacht was all gleaming gold and polished metal outlining polished wood, nearly a hundred feet long. I stole a glance at her eyes.
There was a hunger and a hurt in them so raw that it was almost sexual. I knew in that instant that she’d never stay, even if she left Philippe. She loved the sea and that life more than she could ever love me. Or Philippe.
She looked up to meet my eyes and saw that I had seen. She leaned into me, her arm snaking around my waist and leaning over to kiss me on the side of my face.
“I love you more than you will ever know,” she said softly. “More than I should, more than I would ever have believed I could love another man.”
“It’s owned by a member of the Saudi royal family. It has been priced at more than $50 million. It’s a floating home that can stay at sea for six months without having to come into port. There’s a spa, gym, every luxury you could possibly imagine. The owner, they say, has four wives that sail with him and about a dozen kids.”
She searched my face as I talked about the yacht rather than her words. I didn’t know exactly what she wanted me to say. Or maybe I was afraid to put my feelings into words.


Since that call from Philippe at the beach, I felt like a man walking across a rotting bridge, gingerly feeling each plank as I stepped from one to the other, not sure when one would give way and leave me falling forever. He had been a name and a memory. Now he was real and standing between us.
“You don’t have to say anything, Bill. I know how you feel. I have since the Bonne Chance. I hope you know how I feel.”

“I do. And I know you love Philippe, or was that ‘Je Tamie’ a lie?” “No, but I wish it was. It would make it so much easier if it was.”

I pulled her to me and smelled the fragrance of her hair. “This is a mess.”

“You’re sorry now that I came?”

“I will never be sorry that you came back. I might be hurting later, but right now, I’m glad you came back.”
I pushed her away from me and despite the feelings running through me grinned as I said, “This is like some 1950s Hank Williams song—‘I’ll Be Alright...’Til The Hurting Starts.’ We’re living in a sad country western song.”
She nestled against me and said, “Don’t you believe in fate? Destiny, Bill? What are the odds against the two of us meeting? Of my being ordered, in effect, to meet you? Of you’re insulting me and breaking down my anger and resistance and then seducing me with that damned, wonderful Fleur-de-Lis. And your lawyer words.
“Those can’t be accidents. No matter what happens afterward. They were meant to happen.”
“I don’t know that I believe in God. Or destiny. I believe in coincidence, because I’d rather believe that than believe God is a crazed monster who enjoys setting us up for pain, heartbreak, destruction and death.”
She pulled away from me and led me by the hand down the Riverwalk away from the yachts. We were alone for a moment, no one walking nearby, under a streetlight. The St. Johns River’s black water gleamed in the light and somewhere close something leaped out of the water and plopped back in.
She leaned back against the wooden railing and touched the Fleur-de-Lis pin, moving it so the light of the streetlight glanced off it.
“You and I both know what this means, what it represents. You won my heart with this.”
Debbie and my mom and everyone I’ve ever known have told me that at times I can be a smartass. They’re right. I’m not sure where it comes from.
“You are so easy, lady. One pin and-“
She slapped me not too hard on the side of my face and then leaned in to kiss the pain away.
“It’s not the pin. It’s what it represents, and that is you.”


After we tongue wrestled for a minute she broke the lock and took my left hand in hers. She held it up to the light. My wedding ring gleamed so bright it could have been a spotlight.
“Why do you still wear her ring, Bill?”
“It’s not her ring. It’s my wedding ring. And I don’t know why. I...just got used to having it on. Habit.”
“It’s her ring, Bill and everyone knows it. It’s why I know there’s still a part of you in love with her. You can’t make yourself take it off because as long as it’s on there at least a part of her is still with you. And, Bill, don’t fool yourself, she knows it too.”
“Maybe it looks that way, Aline. But it’s not.”
“Then take it off. Take it off, Bill, and put it in your pocket or on another finger where it will just be another ring. If you don’t still love her.”
I reached out with my right and gripped that circle of gold that represented a half of my life and the best times and the worst pain I’d ever known. Then I tugged until it slid off. Losing weight had ended the ordeal it once would have taken to get it off.
I had a gold nugget ring on the next to little finger on my right hand. The little finger wasn’t wide enough to hold it. I tried the middle finger. It was a job, but again the weight loss made it possible to slide it on.
I held my left hand up to the light and there was only the groove of pale skin where the ring had been.

“Convinced?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a gleaming circle. She held it up to the light. It was a silver ring with a square head. On the head was a Fleur-de-Lis inlay of white gold and there was a small, gleaming diamond in the center. It was the sister-ring to the pin she wore.
“You’re not the only person who can give presents, Mr. Maitland.” I shook my head for a second.
“If that’s real, it’s too expensive. You could explain away the pin, but how do you-“
“I have my own money, Bill. Philippe does not pry into my personal spending. And it’s real. And it didn’t take a fortune to have it made. Will you wear it for me?”
“I will, but why?”
“You remember you said that you hoped I’d think of you when I wore the pin? Well....no matter what happens...I want to think that you will not forget me. And if you’re wearing my ring, I know that you won’t.”
She kissed the naked finger and handed me the Fleur-de-Lis ring. It felt oddly formal as I slipped it on. It went on as if it had been made to go on that finger. It


was a moment that meant everything, and yet nothing.
And I took her home and we re-christened the kitchen table, the rug in the living room, the bathtub and finally my bed.
Lying next to her trying to catch my breath, my dick so sore I thought I was going to have to put some vaseline on just to get my pants later in the morning, I said, “Well, that’s got to be some kind of personal best for me. I’d have thought what I just did was medically impossible for a 42-year-old male.”
With my semen gleaming on her lips and nipples and the reddened vagina that lay between her splayed legs, she looked like a poster child for Porno movies. She smiled and reached out to touch the Fleur-de-Lis ring.
“It’s magic, Bill. It’s magic.”

How the hell do you argue with reality. But I tried.

“You’re the magic.”

Of course it wasn’t magic. She couldn’t get me up a fifth time. But she tried.

God damn, but she tried.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2005 -- 7 P.M.

We sat at a table in The Top Floor restaurant located on the 15th floor of the Barnett Bank Building looking out into the gathering darkness and over the city of Jacksonville. I had promised Aline this view until we were hijacked by my family on our birthday. Now she was going to have it, just before she left, probably forever.
I’d ordered grilled Tilapia, the first step I’d have to take in the penance for the over eating and lack of gym time while Aline had been in town. Aline ordered the restaurant’s version of Chicken Breast Coq Au Vin. Probably not what she’d find in a true Parisian eatery, but close enough for Jacksonville.
We sat uncharacteristically silent. Normally the conversation flowed easily, as we talked about anything and everything, except those forbidden areas we knew to avoid. But now the silence lay like a heavy shroud over us.
We ate, Aline interspersing bites of chicken with sips of red wine, myself sipping at coffee because I knew Knight had meant what he said.
I knew he’d have cops shadowing me, regardless of what they were supposed to be doing officially. And if I was spotted drinking anything alcoholic and I didn’t walk and drive an exact, geometrically straight line he’d have me pulled over.
I didn’t think he’d frame me, because he wasn’t that kind of guy and he knew that even if Edwards was unhappy with me, framing a prosecutor would start a cold war that would blow up in everybody’s face. But if I gave him the opportunity to take me out, he’d run with it.


“It’s nothing like the Eifel Tower,” I said, gesturing to the view of Jacksonville from 130 feet up. “But I hope you remember it.”
It was the closest I could come to saying that she would remember it because she wouldn’t be here.
I hadn’t checked her luggage, hadn’t checked her out at all, but she had to have an airline ticket for the flight home to Paris. We hadn’t talked about what we’d do on Tuesday, how she’d get to the airport. Or even that she would be going to the airport.
Maybe we should have, but if we did, it would become real. And I wanted to keep these last few moments between us free from the curse of reality.
When we finished our meals and paid, she said, “Could we drive to St.
Augustine tonight. Is it too late. I’d like to walk the beach one last time.” “No, it’s not too late.”
We went by the condo and picked up blankets and I headed out I-95 and took the third St. Augustine exit which would take us directly to the beach and bypass most of the city. We drove to Matanzas and I parked in the little pull off area. There were two other cars, but the occupants were too busy with each other to notice us.
We crossed the highway and walked down to the water, blankets over my shoulders. We stood hand in hand watching the breakers slowly roll ashore under the light of a half moon. It seemed to float on the water, but I thought Aline was looking much further, toward home.
We walked into the dunes and she was out of her clothes in an instant and had me down on the blankets, stripping me. When we were down, she attacked me. Sucking, stroking, pulling, flipping around to lower her steamy pussy dripping into my mouth while sucking and nibbling on my dick and balls.
I didn’t think I was that much in the mood but in two minutes I was holding her ass with both hands and trying not to drown as I bucked up and came and came into her mouth. Before I could catch my breath she had flipped around and was licking my face clean of her juices,
Then she slid down me to suck me and get me hard again and rising above me, she slammed down on my cock so hard that it hurt and I imagine she hurt too, but she just pounded it again and again until I couldn’t hold back and came again inside her.
We lay there, both of us gasping as an ocean breeze rustled the cattails around us. I didn’t have to look at her, didn’t have to be a mind reader, to know that this had been a goodbye fuck.
She raised her head to look at me and said, “Can we walk on the beach one more time, Bill. And then I need to get back to the condo and get some sleep.”


She didn’t add, “so I’ll be ready to leave early in the morning,” but I heard the words.
We walked on the beach and we went back to the condo and we both showered and got ready for the next day and she lay down next to me but not wrapping herself around me as she had. She moved close enough to me to touch but turned her back to me and after she thought I’d gone to sleep she began to cry.
There is something ineffably, unutterably, sad about a woman trying to cry softly in the darkness next to you. When you can’t reach out to comfort her.
I made myself sleep. I might have dreamt it, but I think she kissed me on the lips.
And when my alarm went off at 6 a.m., I was alone in my bed. I lay there for what seemed a long time. There was still a slight warmth on the bed sheets where she should have been. I ran my hand over the empty space.
Finally I knew I had to get up because I had a job and a life to go back to. I rolled out of bed and padded to the closet and grabbed clothes. I dressed, made my way to the bathroom and pissed, brushed my teeth and made myself presentable. Then I went to the kitchen and would have hit the coffee maker ‘on’ switch, but somebody already had.
I poured myself a cup, poured in some diet French Vanilla creamer and walked over to the kitchen/dining room table.
As I’d known there would be, there was a piece of cream colored parchment sitting in the center of the table. Aline’s precise, tight letters covered it. I took a sip of coffee so hot it burned the roof of my mouth which gave me an excuse to have my eyes water, and picked up the paper.
“Dearest Bill,
“You know by now that I am on my way to the airport. And you know that I am a coward. But I could not say goodbye to you because I did not know if I could walk away from you if I were looking into your eyes. And I have to go back.
“No matter what Philippe has done with other women, he has not violated the rules of our marriage. I have. I have to face him, to see if we still have a marriage. I will not know until I stand in front of him.
“ But more than that, I have to go back for Andre. I told you that I love you and I do. But if I leave Philippe for you, I will be leaving Andre as well. I know that I will never be able to take him away from Philippe. And I cannot leave Andre. He is only a little boy and he would never understand why his mother abandoned him.
“It is time to leave, Bill. My heart feels like it is tearing in two. I expect that you will hate me. But, I had to come to you, and I have to leave you. Please

forgive me,

Aline.”

I read it a dozen times, but the words never changed. I held my left hand up and watched the light dance on the white gold and silver of her Fleur-de-Lis ring and realized I’d never be able to take it off.
I prepared my briefcase with the documents I’d need for the coming day and before I walked out the door I took a quick look around. It was back to simply being a condo again. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought I could almost catch a hint of her fragrance.
I had lied to her and myself all along. Two weeks is not forever. It can’t be.
It’s just two weeks.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2005 - 11 A.M.

I made my up the elevator and managed not to speak to a single living soul or look into another set of eyes. A few times ASAs or courthouse staff of one type of another were heading my way and for some reason I couldn’t figure out, they suddenly found they had pressing business somewhere else and veered off in different directions or suddenly turned and started walking the other way.
After I’d left the condo I’d almost found myself driving toward the airport, but I managed to stop myself. There was nothing I could say that would change her mind. Nothing I could make myself say. I checked and found out her flight was leaving at 11 a,.m., if it departed on schedule.
I had hours to kill so I went by the gym and worked myself into exhaustion for an hour and a half, then showered again and headed to the office.
As I got off on the fifth floor I noticed the giant figure of Johnny August deep in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize. He glanced up at me and I knew I could only be a moving shadow and yet...he dropped his eyes and turned so he had his back to me. Was it so obvious that even a blind man could see it?
I just nodded in Cheryl’s direction, said, “No calls—from anyone—for the next ten minutes” - and entered my office. I turned and locked the damned door. Let the rumors begin. I’d unlock it before they called in security, but right now I didn’t want to see anyone.
I laid my briefcase on my desk, took the phone off the hook, and walked over to the plate glass window. I pulled the curtains back and looked up into the sky. Somewhere over there, Aline’s plane was ascending into the clouds, if hadn’t already left Florida’s skies on its way to New York and a change over for the New York to Paris leg of her journey.
I visualized her in her seat. Had she asked for a window seat so she could see Jacksonville, and me, fall away beneath her and finally vanish into the white


haze of the clouds. Was she having a drink now? Or preparing a story for Philippe on what she’d been up to the last two weeks?
Was she wearing the Fleur-de-Lis proudly as she’d said she always would, or had she packed it away the way she’d put me and our time together away in her memory book?
Was she crying? Did I merit a tear or two? Or was she dry-eyed, coming out of the romantic dream we had shared and returning to the mundane world of work and husband and son and obligations and shared marital memories?
I wondered if she would ever think of me when Philippe had his big cock buried deep inside her. Would she ever slip and call my name in a moment of passion, or in a few months with no photographs of our time together would she have difficulty seeing my face in her mind?
I had thought there were no more left in me, but I felt tears trickling down my cheeks. It was so silly. I was a grown man. I’d had a two week romantic and sexual idyll with a beautiful woman, but it had never been anything real or substantive. It was just a passing episode in both our lives.
And then I told myself, “You are such a miserable liar. At least be honest with yourself. You are, were, will be, in love with that woman. The same way you are still at least a little bit in love with your cheating whore of an ex-wife.
“Not in love with HER, the one that kissed Doug outside her home and shaved her cheating pussy to excite Doug. not that Debbie.
“The Debbie that you held in the night so many nights. the Debbie that cried
inconsolably the night her crazy aunt Clarice committed suicide...the Debbie who made you smile just by looking at her after a hard day at the office.  the
Debbie whose body and mouth and smile made the miserable world that you live in bearable so many days over the years.
“Lew, Mom, everyone on the outside only see the cheating bitch.  they didn’t
live with her when she loved me. They can’t see that Debbie...they only see the ghost that lives in her body now....and I can’t make myself throw dirt on her grave the way we buried Clarice and accept the fact that MY Debbie is dead and gone forever ”
I realized I had locked the door because if anyone had walked in and heard me talking to myself, they really would have sent me to a hospital for observation.
But, I didn’t want to get taken away for observation. As the cop had observed months ago, the job is the only life I have now. Or if not the only life, it’s the important one. I couldn’t jeopardize it by giving anybody the idea I was having another breakdown.
I’ll keep my job for a little while longer, a few days at least. And after that. all bets would be off.


I unlocked my door but left my phone off the hook. It might buy me another few minutes of solitude. And then I walked back to the view of Jacksonville’s northern approach.
I put my face in my hands and tried to think. I am a smart man. I handle problems every day. I have made a life for myself. What do I do now?
But nothing will change the fact that I love..loved one woman who stopped loving me and I love another woman who never started loving me...enough...because she’s still in love with her husband
I am so fucked.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2005 - 11:10 A.M.

She looked at Cheryl.

“His phone’s off the hook. I don’t think he wants to talk to anybody.”

“I know you don’t have to let me, Cheryl, but I thought we were friends. One friend to the other...you saw him.......................................... let me go in and talk to him.

“I don’t know that you’re what he needs right now.”

“I’m exactly what he needs. And no matter what anybody says, I don’t want to hurt him any more.”

Cheryl finally nodded.

She opened the door. He was standing at the plate glass picture window looking out into the morning sky. She knew what he was looking for.

He didn’t turn around.

“Why did I know you’d turn up this morning?”

“Because we were married for nearly 20 years and you get to know someone in 20 years.”

“Not really. I thought I knew you but I obviously didn’t.” “But you knew I’d be here.”

“Only because bad things happen in threes. I knew you had to be in there somewhere. God only knows what the last thing will be. Maybe I’ll have a heart attack.”
“You’re too healthy for a heart attack...and only the good die young. You’re not THAT good. despite your press releases.”
“If that’s true, Deb, you should live forever.”
He still hadn’t faced her and she walked toward him until he was directly in front of her. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her breasts into his back. He was thinner, harder than she ever remembered him being. She hadn’t touched him in more than six months.
He stiffened but didn’t throw her off.
“I know that I am really bad off when I can’t work up the energy to throw your cheating ass out of my office.”


She leaned forward and pressed her face against the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? What have you done this time?”
“I hired a private investigator. I know she was living with you. I know what you’re been doing together. I know she’s married and has a son in Paris. I know she left your condo early this morning—without you. You didn’t take her to the airport.
“She’s going back to them, isn’t she?”
“Why do you care? Why go to that much trouble? We’re not married anymore.”
She put her head on his shoulder and tried not to rub her breasts back and forth across his back. It was almost automatic when they had been married.
“I know you, Bill. I know you’re probably banging some of the women around here. I know you must have had that female cop, and I’ve heard rumors about others. But I know they’re not serious.
“I saw the way you looked at her the night we all barged in on you two...The only woman you’ve ever looked at that way...was me. That’s why, part of why, I got so crazy that night.
“I know we’re not married. I know I have no right to be jealous. I’m like the dog that doesn’t want another dog to have a bone, even though I don’t want it any more. But, it hurt.”
“Why the hell would it hurt? You told me you didn’t love me anymore. We’re divorced, for God’s sake.”
“I know it’s not logical...reasonable. But I haven’t been logical or reasonable...about a lot of things lately. I’m seeing...somebody....because I have kind of. gone off the tracks lately. I’m starting to get some things straight.
“I only know that it—seeing her that night and seeing you look at her that way...that it hurt me. I wanted to find out everything I could about her...and that damned Fleur-de-Lis.
“You know you NEVER bought me anything like that in all the years we were married. ”
“You can’t be serious. You screw around on me with a younger man, with a bigger dick. Even if you didn’t physically screw him, I know you were cheating emotionally. You threw me out of my own house. You had sex with him in my bed. You threw me out of your life...and you’re upset because I bought some expensive jewelry for a new woman in my life.”
She held him a little tighter and he didn’t move to throw her off.
“I know it doesn’t make any sense. You said I was crazy. I’m thinking I was. At least for awhile. But one thing I know, you were serious about Aline. Or the skinny French bitch, as I prefer to call her.

“And so when she left alone, and you came in here and you looked like you’d lost your best friend or your dog died, I knew what happened.

“She went back to him, didn’t she?” “Yes, she went back to him.”

“Is she coming back? Do you think she’ll leave him?” He reached out with his fingers and touched the glass.

She saw the unfamiliar ring on his left hand, then the wedding ring on his right. The Fleur-de-Lis was the mark that bitch Aline had left on a man that used to belong to her. Even if she wasn’t here to rub her nose in it in person, Aline would still be doing it in spirit.
“I hope to God not. She could lose her son. She could lose a man she still might love. I don’t want to be Doug...even though I’ve been acting like him ever since I met her.”
“Doug didn’t break us up. I was going to leave you, Bill, if I’d never met him.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel better.”
“I shouldn’t tell you this. The person...I’m seeing...said I shouldn’t. But I have to. I told you I didn’t cheat on you before Doug. And I didn’t...go to bed with anyone or suck them off. But...I.....teased a lot of guys....and...”
She felt him stiffen and wondered why she was doing this. Was that stubborn anger driving her to kick him when he was down, do the most damage she possibly could? It didn’t feel like it inside her. She didn’t know, but maybe she was just tired of lying to him.
“What? Shit. I’m in the Valley of Despair, so why not drop some more shit on me?”
“I...jerked a couple of guys off at parties. I...masturbated them through their pants. I never held their naked dicks in my hands, but I jerked them off.”
“So you never got any semen inside your pussy. I should be grateful for small favors.”
“I’m not claiming any special...virtue, Bill. I was a pretty bad wife...for the last three or four years. I told myself it was alright because I saved my pussy for you....when I let you have it. But I honestly got more out of my vibrator than I did from you.”
“What did I ever do to deserve that kind of treatment from you?”
“I don’t know. I was angry as hell at you most of the time, but I thought I hid it pretty well. I guess I was angry...and contemptuous....I didn’t think much of you. as a man.”

“You forget. I read your emails. I know how you felt about me as a man.” “What good would it do me to lie about it? I told you I wrote the truth.

That’s...the way I felt about you. But...I. I know this drives you crazy, but it was

some of your fault. Even if you never admit it, you know I’m right. You left me alone for this damned office and this damned job. You wanted to be Saint Bill more than you wanted to be inside me.”

“And that made what you were doing right?”

“No, I didn’t say that. Just like what you’ve been doing with Aline for the past two weeks wasn’t right...and you know it. But you did it anyway.”

They stood there silently for a moment.

“I know I was wrong, but...can you be honest with me about one thing? “What have I ever lied to you about?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Did you ever cheat on me. You don’t have to tell me the truth, but we’re over. It won’t change anything. I just...would like to know.”
“To make you feel better about what you were doing”?
“No, whether you were screwing half the females in your office, or were as pure as the driven snow, I should have divorced you. I should have had the courage to walk away. I had a good job. The kids weren’t little. They were in their teens. I could have made a new life for myself. God knows, I have never had a problem attracting men. I could have found a good guy to replace you. I shouldn’t have hurt you the way I did...with Doug...and the emails.
“I was a coward. And that I’m sorry for.”
“I hope this hurts you a little more, Debbie. No, I never cheated on you. I never had another woman in all the years we were married. until Aline.
“That’s Aunt Clarice speaking from the grave, isn’t it?
“I never really believed it...but. the things she said got stuck in my head, and
I never really dis-believed them either.” He shook his head.
“The poor miserable bitch. She lost her husband and her mind and her life...and she dragged you down with her. I almost can’t hate her....almost. But you shouldn’t have believed her.”
“I’m sorry I did. But I loved her. She was almost more of a mother to me than my real mother.”
“I’ve got things to do, Debbie. I’ve got a life to start putting back together again...for the second time. So why don’t you take you and those tits of yours and get out of my office.”
“Now that sounds more like the Bill Maitland I knew and lo-“
She had reached the door to his office when she looked back at him.
“If she had left her husband and chosen you...or if she comes back. would

you. ?”

“I don’t know, Debbie. I’ve known her for less than two months. On the other hand, I knew you for two years before I married you and look what that got me.”

“Thirteen or fourteen years of a good marriage and two kids I think you love.”

“True. I guess....I’d marry her in a heartbeat. And if she comes back in a month of two, I still will........................................... if she’ll have me.”

When he turned away from the window she had left without another word.

 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 9: ONLY YESTERDAY....


TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2005
My name is Bill Maitland. I’m an Assistant State Attorney in the Jacksonville State Attorney’s Office. Unofficially I’m the chief prosecutor which means that although in an organizational chart there are two other SAs at my level, in reality I’m the number one guy under the Big Man, State Attorney Dallas Edwards, at least for right now. I’ve finally made the decision to take a black cop, who shot three men breaking into his home including one of them in the back running away, to a Grand Jury.
I might wind up out on my ass at any moment and 10 years of prosecuting will be a memory, but I can’t see any way out of it, not and be able to face myself in the mirror.
At the same time, a woman I have feelings for has left me to go back to her husband and son in France and I’m not at all sure that I’ve recovered from being dumped by my wife of nearly 20 years for a younger, prettier, more well-hung rival. So, it hasn’t been the best six month period of my life and I’m not sure things aren’t going to get worse....
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2005
I still woke up sensing her presence in the bed next to me. I had not heard from her but I hadn’t really expected to. I wondered what had happened when she met Philippe for the first time on her return, when she had looked into his eyes. I didn’t want to think about their first night together after months apart.
Not thinking didn’t make it go away but, even though the thought of Aline with Philippe hurt like hell, it didn’t make the feelings I had for her go away.
I made myself NOT think about what I’d told Debbie the day she left. What if she walked back into my office one day in the near future? What if she told me that she and Philippe hadn’t been able to put their marriage back together?
What if I was unemployed, or moving to another state, my life up in the air, trying as hard as I could to keep a relationship with my kids long distance and still missing Debbie and trying to start a new life? Could I add Aline into that mix?
Damn straight I could. One thing the end of my marriage had taught me was that a job and responsibilities and doing the right thing weren’t a substitute for protecting what was the most important thing in your life.
In my case, it had been Debbie and I’d let her slip away. If Aline came back, no matter what it cost, I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again.
Despite how I felt emotionally, which was drained and tired and old, physically I woke with energy and I felt good. All the propaganda about the


value of hard physical training and conditioning had turned out to be true after all. Who knew? Even though I’d slacked off while Aline was here, the conditioning carried over.
Why the hell had I never even considered doing this when I was with Debbie and she had begged and nagged me to set foot in a gym, to go with her, even sweetening the deal with an occasional blow job or a really hot romp in bed?
She had wanted it and even though I knew now it was for herself, to try to keep alive a flicker of the desire she had once felt for me, she had also been doing it for me. And now, I couldn’t even remember what had been so vital that I could never find the time.
Regret is the most useless emotion, or so I’d read somewhere, so I forced myself to think about William Sutton and Shawn Smith and the mechanics of the office and I managed to put Debbie and Aline out of my mind for awhile.
The process of getting ready to go to the grand jury is not all that simple, particularly when you’re preparing to toss them a political hand grenade like Shawn Smith, so I spent time on that one.
Also, although we’d done a lot of prep work on Sutton, actually filing the charges and setting up the case was a different story. I had two Assistant SAs preparing the case but I was going to be the face of the case.
If it blew up in our faces, I didn’t want to cripple two young attorneys just starting their careers. Better that I go down.
We’d just started the hurricane of legal forms, but Sutton’s attorney, a fairly good trial lawyer named Barry Macon of the famous Jacksonville Macon legal dynasty, already was firing back at us as fast as we hit him with motions and counter-motions and requests for delays.
I knew what he was doing; just what I’d do in his shoes. He was going to delay, delay and delay again in the hopes that our star witness would die before the case went to trial. No recorded or written testimony is ever as effective as a live, warm, breathing human being on the witness stand.
Then, there was that distant dark cloud on the horizon. We’d heard more about the snake-bit trial of the Mexican drug cartel warlord who’d been set for trial in the West until the cartel had killed the two U.S. prosecutors on the case in that circuit.
There had been talk of moving the trial to Idaho and only a week before, the lead federal prosecutor in Boise had come home to find his wife and three children murdered, their heads missing.
Written in their blood on the walls of his home were words in Mexican that roughly translated to “Touch us and we will kill you all. El Degüello.”
U.S. prosecutors around the country had received a flash education in Mexican culture and tradition, learning that “El Degüello” was the name of the


trumpet tune played by Santa Anna’s army surrounding the Alamo in 1836.
It meant, according to different sources, “no mercy,” “no quarter?” and more literally “slit throat.” One book translated it as “The Beheading.” The cartel thugs who had butchered the prosecutor’s family obviously went with the book definition.
The cartel had moved on the RUMOR that the case was going to Idaho, so prosecutors and cops around the country were justifiably nervous. It had been a long, long time since any organized crime groups in this country had felt free to attack cops or prosecutors.
This Mexican cartel had dared to go to war against the entire law enforcement establishment of the United States and so far they were winning.
The DEA and U.S. Black Ops groups were moving in Mexico, but the entire country was so corrupt that you never knew who you could trust and often the law enforcement allies you needed were hired killers for the cartel, so taking out their heads was more than difficult.
All of this was highly sensitive, but prosecutors knew about it and knew the storm was heading for someone. The American government couldn’t back off on its prosecution of the cartel warlord who had killed hundreds in Mexico and the U.S., and the cartel wouldn’t or hadn’t backed off on its pledge to keep him from going to trial.
Like a lot of people who held my kind of job, I half wanted the case, yet halfway hoped it would pass to someone else.
And I promised myself that if it came to me, I’d make sure Jimmy, the husband of Debbie’s younger sister, Clarice, was called in. I had heard enough to know that he had resources in Black Ops he could call upon, and I wanted someone who was of our blood protecting Debbie and the kids if that day ever came.
The routine, the job, was good for me. I stopped thinking about Aline, about Debbie, about the past and what couldn’t be changed and the future and what might be coming. I could just do my job.
At 11:45 a.m. Reverend Montgomery stormed in. That is, Cheryl had barely enough time to say, “Mr. Maitland, Rev. Montgomery is headed in to see you.”
If this had been a cartoon, steam would have been hissing from his ears. He pursed his lips tightly and gave me what was probably an intimidating stare.
“I don’t know what hold you have over Edwards, but I want you to know the African American community is not going to let you railroad a good security officer officer into prison, Maitland.”
“Well, hello Reverend, and how are you today?” He breathed hard.


“Extremely upset, Mr. Maitland, and you know why. Despite the urgings of the African American community and the security officer community, you have decided to go forward with this witch hunt designed to put a good security officer officer into that hellhole of a state prison at Raiford. You know as well as I do that that is tantamount to a death sentence.
“What’s worse, you have somehow managed to intimidate the duly-elected State Attorney to be derelict in his duties and refuse to order you to step down. I don’t know what hold you have on him, but it must be truly powerful to convince him to commit professional suicide.”
I tried to be as low key and calm as possible.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“Reverend, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. At the time we last spoke I told you I hadn’t come to a decision on the disposition of Office Smith’s case; I since have. All I’m doing is bringing the facts before a grand jury and allowing representatives of our entire community to make the final decision on how to handle the case. I would think you’d be glad to have the decision made by a cross-section of the community and not by one man.”

He just gave me a long look and then sat down in one of the chairs and got up again as quickly as if he couldn’t bear to be still.
“You truly are smoother than duck shit,” he said, dropping the Reverend guise for a moment, “You know the right words and the right tone, but I’m not some idiot reporter or Chamber of Commerce law and order booster. You and I both know you’re running this show and whatever happens to Smith is on your head.”
“You’re exaggerating my influence, Reverend. I think all that ‘Angel of Death’ nonsense is getting to you. It is quite possible the grand jury will hand down a nolo and refuse to indict Smith. Grand juries tend to be reluctant to indict security officer officers minus some overwhelming evidence of wrong doing.”
“Only this time they won’t, will they, Mr. Maitland? You think you can get away with this because you have your boss buffaloed. You have some dirt on him or what? But let me give you some advice. You do this and you’d better get ready for protest marches in front of this office every day – for as long as it takes. Our community will picket your home as well, not just YOUR condo, but the house in which your ex-wife and children currently reside. There will be television crews and radio reporters and media trucks and everybody in the neighborhood will know they have a nest of white racists in their midsts.”
I stood up from behind my desk. Something must have passed across my face because Montgomery backed up.
“You realize you’re threatening my family to frighten me off from pursuing this prosecution?”
“Not at all,” and he smiled. A partial smile but he knew what he was doing.


“You know we are perfectly within our rights to picket your home and actually anywhere else we think we can pressure you to drop this unjust prosecution. The Constitution protects our free speech and assembly rights. If it inconveniences some, or possibly causes an illogical fear, that is not our problem.”
“Like you said, Reverend, smooth as duckshit. But you and I both know the impact of shouting protesters, camera trucks parked all over neighboring lawns, the crazies that always come out at such events.
“And if something happens to my son, or daughter, or ex-wife, well, you had no idea something like that might happen. Right?”
“No, I don’t know that anymore than you know that Shawn Smith will be indicted and probably convicted.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“I don’t want to do this, Maitland. I think you’re a piece of shit, but I don’t want to force your ex and your kids to pay for your persecution of Shawn Smith. However, if you go ahead with this, we’ll have to start the ball rolling and they will be sucked in. Don’t go to the grand jury. I’m not a bad man, Maitland, no matter what you may think now. I don’t want to have to live with myself if anything happens to them.”
“We’re at an impasse, Reverend. I’ll make sure my ex-wife and kids are somewhere else when you start your protests and I’ll use every resource of this office to prosecute anyone who makes even a threatening gesture against them if you do find them.”
I used my best intimidating stare and tried to visualize him in a prison jumpsuit.
“Maybe I’ll be able to nail you. Maybe I won’t. You’ll have to decide, in the words of that old Clint Eastwood movie, ‘Do I feel lucky’?”
Stepping to the door of my office, he said, “I’d ask you the same question, Maitland. Do you feel lucky?”
After he had left, I sat thinking for awhile, and then I headed up to Edwards’ office.
Myra said, “He’s inside, Mr. Maitland.”
I went inside. He was sitting behind his desk, looking through a file.
I stood there and after a few moments he looked up at me. He looked tired. He looked his age, where he usually looked strong and energetic and maybe in his late 40s. Today he looked every bit of his nearly 60 years.
“I just talked to the Reverend. Thank you for refusing to take me off the Smith case.”
He shook his head.


“Why thank me for something you blackmailed me into doing. You know that’s the only reason I’m letting you go ahead.”
“Myra came down and talked to me. She thought you’d say to hell with it and just fire me. Why didn’t you?”
He put the papers down and leaned back in his chair. That easy smile was gone.
“I took some time and thought it over. If I let you go ahead, I’ll be crucified by cops and the African American community. If I fire you, I’ll probably have most of the newspaper and television editorial writers after my head. Worse, the average Joe SixPack that doesn’t read beyond the headlines will only remember that I’m another corrupt politician cutting deals. They won’t remember the name, just the stink associated with it. That’s what will kill me.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still think I’m probably sunk in next year’s elections, but I think letting you go ahead may be slightly less damaging than firing you. Because you’d do every damned thing you threatened. I know you, Bill.”
I didn’t sit down.
“I know you disagree with me, but I think you’re wrong, Dallas. The cops and the blacks will be upset with you, but you have a year to mend fences. And the media will spin this that you’re an incorruptible prosecutor willing to take on his own side to find justice. Calvin Coolidge got to be president bucking cops, and Thomas Dewey almost made it as a tough crime fighter. You’re not dead yet.”
Edwards gave me an almost-smile, then looked down at the desk. I think it was one of the private political, name recognition polls he had run every once in a while to see his standing in the public eye.
“You might be right, Bill, but I doubt it. And I don’t think you even realize why you’re doing this.”
I just looked at him curiously.
“I know you think you’re doing this out of deep moral conviction, do the right thing and all that crap. But you can’t see yourself clearly. Nobody can.
“From where I’m sitting, you’ve never recovered from Debbie dumping you. You almost went over the edge and I very graciously sent you on a cruise to recover and you wound up falling for another woman who put you back together again. Now SHE’s dumped you.”
There was pity mixed with anger in his gaze.
“You’re still off-kilter. Your head’s not on straight, Bill. I think you’re trying to destroy yourself the way you did with alcohol. I think you want to be fired, want to be driven out of a life that’s let you down, that’s hurt you. I think you


want to be forced out of your safe, comfortable womb here and given a chance to start over new somewhere else.”
“I can see how it might look that way, Dallas. But I don’t think it is.” He rubbed his chin.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“Doesn’t matter whether I’m right or wrong, Bill. I’m going to give you that chance for a fresh start.”

“You’re firing me anyway? After what you just said.”
“No, go ahead with the grand jury. See it through. But once that’s done, in a respectable time, I want you to resign and go somewhere else. Maybe a few months after the start of the New Year. Take until the Spring.
“But I don’t want you here by next Summer. That’s long enough there won’t be any appearance that you’re leaving because of Smith.
“And,” he said, “I’ll write you any references or recommendations you want. You are a very good attorney. Anyway, the ‘Angel of Death’ can probably go anywhere he wants and get a job, prosecution or defense, although it might do you good to go back on the other side for awhile. It pays better and you would have a better chance at a private life.”
We were both silent for a long time.
“You sure that’s the way you want it, Dallas?”
“Yeah, I was pissed at you, but I knew what I was getting when I made you my number one. It’s just that I don’t think I want you around here anymore. I think it would be bad, especially if I go down in flames next November. I’d look at you every day and blame you. It wouldn’t be comfortable for either one of us.”
Finally I said, “All right, Dallas, I’ll start checking around.”
As I walked by Myra I saw her working on her computer. She glanced up at me for a moment, but for the first time in a long time, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. She knew.
I sat in my office for a few minutes when I got back. I didn’t lock the door but I asked Cheryl to keep anyone away that she could. I sat back, then spun my chair around to look at the pictures on the wall, the plaques, the evidence of a decade lived as a prosecutor.
The kids had been little when I’d taken the job. Debbie and I still had a good marriage. It had been a different world.
Now it was all going away. I wouldn’t stay here. I knew that in the moment Edwards had told me my time here was ending, which meant that at least, in a way, I’d be leaving the kids behind. I hated that.
I’d be leaving a job I loved, and now hated at least a little bit. I’d be leaving Debbie. I might be able to start healing if I didn’t have to see her every day and remember all the years we’d had together.
The intercom buzzed.

“You have a visitor.”

She didn’t even have to tell me who. I didn’t turn around.

“Hello, Bill.”

“Hello, Debbie. To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I had a minute. Can we talk?”

I spun around. It hit me like it did every time I saw her. Women weren’t supposed to look that good when they were approaching 40. Why the hell wouldn’t she show her age?

“Talk.”

“I just wanted to ask you to be careful.” “Careful?”

“I’ve heard about the Shawn Smith case. There’s a lot of buzz among the cops that he’s coming unraveled. They say he’s drinking, and talking crazy talk. Talking about getting you before you get him.”
“Talk is cheap. He knows things are coming to a head and he’s scared. I don’t blame him. He’s got a 50/50 chance of walking away, but not many people would risk their life on those odds.”
“You mean he’s a desperate man who carries a gun, knows how to use it, has killed people with it, and thinks you might send him to prison.”
“Pretty much.”
She surprised me by coming around my desk. I pushed my chair back a little. She stood close enough to me that I could smell her perfume. And under it I could smell her scent. I started getting hard despite myself. She’d always had that impact on me until the last few years. When had I gotten so old that that scent didn’t make me want to throw her down and spread those luscious thighs? How could I have forgotten? But I had, and now when it was too late all that came flooding back into my mind and my body.
“I’ve always known more about your work than you wanted me to. People talk. I’d see memos. I looked at your paperwork when you were asleep. You never knew I snooped, did you? When did you start thinking I was just another stupid soccer mom?”
“I never thought you were stupid, Debbie. You were smart enough to leave me out of your life for years, fool me into believing you were still my wife.”
“Only because you never cared enough to check up on me. You never cared enough to wonder where I was all those nights.”

“Because I promised you once upon a time that I was going to trust you.” “Trusting someone doesn’t mean not even getting curious those nights I came

in late and never said anything about where I was. I wasn’t sleeping around, but

any normal husband would at least have asked me where I’d been. You didn’t even ask.”
She stopped talking for a moment. And looked at me as if somehow I were the guilty party.
“You told me you weren’t cheating and I believed you, which makes it worse.
You didn’t even have the excuse of having another woman to distract you.” I shook my head and pushed myself as far away from her as I could.
“Stop, Deb, I don’t want to rehash this shit. It’s the past. What’s this have to do with anything today?”
“I know you, Bill. Better than you think or know. You don’t have the sense to be afraid of things you should be afraid of. Shawn Smith is dangerous. He shot three men to death, one of them in the back. I want you to be careful, look out for Smith and make sure you have someone around you. You’ve got investigators, people who carry guns. Assign yourself a security detail. If nothing else, for Christ’s sake, start carrying a gun.”
She was leaning toward me and I put out my hand to stop her. I didn’t want her to get close enough to touch. It was hard enough being in the same building with her.
“He’s scared, but he wouldn’t be crazy enough to shoot a prosecutor, especially when he’d be the first person they look for.”
“Scared people don’t use logic, Bill. You should know that. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
I felt like a trapped animal. She just wouldn’t go the hell away and I couldn’t get past her without touching her.
“Look, Debbie, I’m touched that you care. I’m not being sarcastic. It’s...I know you are probably worried. That’s why I never told you everything that goes on here. I knew you would have worried but, really, this is not worth worrying about. I’ve had people threaten to kill me before, people who could have and would have if they’d had the chance, and I’m still here.”
Then she had my hands in hers and she was staring down at me. A simple touch shouldn’t be that intense, but for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m not asking you for myself, Bill. I know I don’t have that right anymore, but you have two kids who love you. You’ve re-established bonds with them and you’re a better father now than you have been in years. Take care of yourself for their sake. I don’t want to take them to your funeral.
“Not for a long, long time.”
She released my hands and stepped back, then walked out of my office with only one glance back at me. I could feel her touch long after she’d gone.
Why, why, why had she taken Doug into my bed. I could see her in my mind’s eyes screaming in pleasure as he rammed his cock into her, because she’d

done it with me. And I knew I’d never get that image out of my head which meant there’d never be a tomorrow for us.

Only yesterday.