[Ramesh_Rocky]

Camera crews stood outside the trucks and stared at me as I pulled in, but I was already by them before they could get their cameras aimed at me. I drove down a winding road until I saw a small knot of vehicles off to the right. I pulled in behind one and got out. A small group of people, maybe thirty in all, was standing near an open grave site. A casket was set up on a stand and a black minister stood in front of the casket.

In the front row of mourners was a small black, white-haired woman surrounded by three good-sized men. As one of the men, alerted by the murmurs of the crowd, turned to look at me I saw the resemblance. It was an older, heavier Shawn Smith. All of them turned to look at me as the first man to spot me came toward me at a fast walk.
“Get the hell out of here,” he said, his fists clenched. He was about six-two, heavily muscled. He was trembling. One of the other men with the old woman walked up behind him.
“Eddie, don’t. Don’t do this in front of momma.”
“I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands if he don’t walk his ass out of here.

Now.”

I held my hands in front of me, palms out in a conciliatory gesture. He had six inches and probably a hundred pounds on me. Even with the boxing lessons I’d had, I didn’t want any trouble with him, especially since in his shoes I’d probably feel the same.
“Mr. Smith? You’d be Eddie Smith, Shawn’s older brother, right? And you’re Carl, right?”
Carl Smith put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and told me, “Mr. Maitland, please get out of here. My brother is a law abiding man, but this is a bad day for him, for all of us. Don’t make it worse.”
Eddie Smith pushed his brother’s hand away and stared at me.
“Where are the photographers, you piece of shit? Just couldn’t pass up another chance to get a little more publicity. ‘Angel of Death comes to the Killer Cop’s funeral.’ I bet the tabloids will eat it up.”
“No photographers and I won’t stay long, if you’ll give me just a couple of minutes. I was going to stay at the back until the service was over and have a couple of words with your mother, if I could.”
“You get away from her, from us. I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her more.
You killed her baby, you asshole. My baby brother.” “Edward!”


The white haired woman had come up behind him. She leaned heavily on a cane. She looked like she weighed 100 pounds if she was soaking wet, and yet she had borne four bruising sons.
“Momma, go back. This is that piece of shit- “
“Edward, I’m not one of your floozy girlfriends, and this is your brother’s funeral. You will not use that kind of language on this day.”
She stared at me, Her face was lined and the lines had lines. I couldn’t imagine when she had been a young woman conceiving and bearing these sons.
“Mrs. Smith.”
“Mr. Maitland, why are you here?”
“I came to express my condolences for your loss, Mrs. Smith.”
“You goddamned hypocrite. You got him killed and you have the balls to come here and-“
“Edward, show some respect for your brother. Mr. Maitland, you could have sent a card. Why did you feel it necessary to show up in person? You have to know that my sons are very upset. Shawn was my baby, our baby, and they helped raise him after my husband died when he was just a toddler.”
“I’m very sorry to intrude on your personal grief, Mrs. Smith. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry it turned out this way. I never intended for it to end like this. I knew that Shawn might, probably would, have to serve some prison time, but people go in and come out all the time. He could have built a new life, a different life, and he had a lot of friends. He could have come back.”
The brother who hadn’t spoken, Cyrus, had joined us.
“As what? A crooked cop who shot a man in the back and killed him? How do you come back from that? I tried to talk sense to him, but he thought it was the end of everything. When he lost Melanie, it was like the heart went out of him. I knew he was going to do something crazy, but he wouldn’t have, and he wouldn’t have lost Melanie, if you hadn’t kept hounding him.”
“I thought he had murdered a man, maybe in passion, but it was still murder, and I couldn’t walk away.”
“It’s done now. It’s over, Mr. Maitland. We’ll bury my son and go on with our lives. I appreciate your having the decency to come here and talk to me.”
Eddie Smith said, “We’ll go on with our lives as the family of the killer cop who murdered three men and then shot down two of his fellow cops before they shot him down like a mad dog. That’s what we’ll go on with and what we’ll have to tell his nieces and nephews and grand nieces and nephews when they come along. That’s what we’ll tell them about my baby brother.”
I shook my head and reached out to take his mother’s hand. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.


“No, tell them that your baby brother, your son, Mrs. Smith, was a good and a brave cop. He saved lives and shot down bad guys. He earned commendations. He was liked and respected by the men he served with. He served the public for ten years. He never had a blemish on his record, but then he fell in love. Love makes people do strange things. He made a mistake and it cost him his life, but the way he died doesn’t change the way he lived his life. Maybe the public will always look at him as the Killer Cop, but you can tell his nieces and nephews that he was a good cop and a good man, and there are records to prove it.”
As I walked back to my Escalade I knew they’d probably never forgive me for the part I had played in Shawn’s death. But they hadn’t committed Shawn’s crimes. They just had to pay for them for the rest of their lives. I hoped my words would help them, even a little bit, to remember the good that Shawn Smith had done in his short life.
I felt tired as hell - maybe it was finally all over. However I didn’t know as I drove away from Smith’s family that James would die in the hospital within 36 hours. I’d have one more funeral to attend before I could start trying to forget about Shawn Smith. I also knew that, try as I might, I never would.
The gunfire in the FOP hall had only taken seconds, but the ripples of those seconds would change lives for years to come. The sad thing is that I had learned over the past ten plus years that that’s the way it always is. Episodes of violence never ever end nice and neat, maybe because life isn’t that way.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 5, 2005 -- WEDNESDAY - 3 P.M.

She had thought she was too late. By the time she had found parking at Jacksonville International Airport, made her way to the departure terminal and found the ticket counter for United, it was already 3 p.m. She knew that Clint was flying out on a 5:30 flight and he’d said he had to be at the airport by 3 at the latest to make that flight.
She looked around trying to make out his slender frame topped by dark hair streaked with gray, but there were so many people. This was a silly, foolish thing to be doing, but even though they’d said goodbye the night he told her about his African adventure, she felt like there was too much unsaid.
He found her. She turned around and he was standing there, two suitcases at his feet.
“You’re really trying to make it hard for me to leave, aren’t you?”
She was in his arms and kissing him as hard as she could. She heard laughter and even a little applause from passengers streaming around them. Finally they separated and she saw that his shirt was wet with her tears. He looked at her strangely and she realized his eyes were misting.


“Why are you doing this, Debbie? I know you don’t love me. I’m your friend but I never thought or said I was anything more. Have I been misreading the signals all this time?”
She took his hand and said, “Can we talk? Do you have a few minutes?”
He looked around, then said, “probably a few minutes. Let’s find someplace to sit down and have a coffee, but I can’t take too long.”
They found a Starbucks and he ordered while she sat at the one free table in the place. In a few minutes he came over with their Cappuccinos and said, “Somehow this feels like Déjà Vu all over again.”
She drank, to have something to do with her hands and to avoid having to look at him directly.
“I’m glad you came, Debbie. I’m glad I had a chance to say goodbye, but what’s going on? What the hell was that kiss all about?”
She finally made herself look up at him. He was just Clint. That made her feel so damned good, yet terrified her at the same time.
“I know...”
She took a breath.
“I know that you said you didn’t love me. You’ve never made a secret of that and I never said I loved you. We’re friends with benefits, but I love you like a friend. You don’t know how important you’ve become in my life. No matter how shitty I’ve felt, no matter how guilty I’ve felt, no matter how bad I’ve felt, you’ve been there for me.”
He grinned that familiar grin and made a casual gesture toward her body and said, “Okay, Deb, but it hasn’t been hardship duty. There’s a world full of guys that would have killed for the pleasure of consoling you. As the old saying, goes, it’s a rough job, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“I know, Clint, but all I gave you was sex and you could have gotten that a lot of places. You helped me keep my head on,”
He reached out and took her hand.
“You value yourself too lightly, Deb. You remember what I said. There are guys who would die for your smile - not your body, not sex with you, but your smile. If I could have loved anybody, if I could ever have got my head on straight and got over my wife, I could have seen myself with you. The thing is, by the time I got there, you’ll be back with Bill. The timing was never right for us.”
“Why do you say that? Why won’t you believe me when I tell you Bill and I will never get back together, ever?”
He smiled and ran a finger along the side of her face.
“You’ll never know, unfortunately, what it’s like for a guy just to look at you. You can’t think like a man, so you’ll never know how we look at female beauty.


Trust me, you’re a very rare treasure. Why I’m so sure you’ll be back with Bill? Because you still love him, because you get a look on your face when his name is mentioned, because you get so damned angry when his name is mentioned. You don’t get angry like that at people you’ve left behind.”
“I’m not going back because I don’t want to. Our marriage died a slow, painful death and I won’t go back to that but, even - even - if I wanted to, he would never take me back. I can’t tell you why, but he won’t. He’s moved on.”
“I won’t say writers are psychics, but we do have a pretty good grasp of human emotions, and I’m pretty good at reading people as an old newspaper reporter and writer. He was in love with you that night that I met him at your place. It was written all over him.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She sipped at her drink and said, without looking up at him, “Maybe, but you didn’t see him the night that we met him and Aline at his condo. Maybe he did love me, and I was egotistical enough to think he always would, but he’s in love with her now.”

“He wouldn’t be the first man, or woman, to be in love with two people at the same time.”
She turned her attention back to her drink. After a moment, she said, “Even if you don’t love me, I know you love making love to me. If you think what we had was hot, stay with me, don’t get on that damned plane, and I’ll drain you so dry you’ll need IVs every night. We’ll try every position in the Kama Sutra and come up with a few new ones of our own.”
He just smiled at her.
“I don’t think any woman, any person, has ever paid me that great a compliment, Deb. If it was just the sex, shit, I’d stay. If I didn’t know you were in love with another man, I’d think seriously about winning you for myself. I have no idea what it would feel like seeing that look in your eyes for me that you have when you hear his name. I have a feeling it would be wonderful, but...”

“But...?”

“I don’t know how to explain it and I wish I could. I just feel like this is something I need to do - something I have to do. It’s just like when I had to write that first novel, and it changed my life. I don’t know what I’ll find in Africa, but I feel like I can’t live the rest of my life not knowing what I’ve missed.”
Then she was crying again and hating it.
“I don’t know why I can’t make you understand, Clint. I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that when you walk away to the boarding area, that will be the last time I ever see you. I don’t think you’re coming back. I think you’re going to die over there and that thought. devastates me.
“Bill - Bill is never coming back. Doug is gone and I won’t see him again, and you’ve getting ready to leave me. My husband, my lover, my friend. It feels


like I’m losing everything.”
He moved around to put his arms around her.
“It might feel that way, but you’re not. You’ve got your kids, a good job, friends and your ex working in the same building. He’s alive and I will come back. Your feminine intuition has been wrong before.”
He put his arms down and reached into his wallet. Not looking at her, he took a crumpled check out and put it on the table. He motioned to it and she picked it up. It was a check for $10,000 -- made out to her. Beside it he put a folded piece of white copy paper.

“What?”

He deliberately looked down at the table rather than meeting her eyes. “I—uh...I need to ask you for a favor, Deb, a big favor and I don’t want you

to get upset when I tell you what it is, okay?”

“What kind of favor?” But even as she was asking the question she remembered their late night conversation and knew what it was.

“I plan on coming back but, nothing in life is certain, and if I don’t...” He took a last sip of his Cappuccino.

“I was going to mail this to you with a note from London, where we’ll stop before heading for Africa. It’s fate that you showed up here.”
He pointed to the check and paper.
“I would like you to cash and deposit this into your account and hold it. If I don’t come back, this will pay for a pretty good sized marble monument. I want you to have it put up on her grave. It’s in Palatka Memorial Gardens cemetery. There’s just a little marker there now. I....after she died I wasn’t.....real happy with her and I didn’t put anything but the bare minimum at her grave site.”
He reached back into the wallet and pulled out an old and frayed color photograph. It had been sealed in plastic so it had stood up pretty well to the ravages of time. The woman, who had long, black straight hair down to her waist, sat in the bend of a huge tree trunk on a lushly manicured lawn with a large building that had to be a courthouse behind her.
She wore a green blouse over a dark green short skirt that rode up on her thighs as she sat forward, smiling at whoever had taken the photo.
“I’ve carried it for 25 years,” he said, biting his lip, “It’s the last picture I have of her—when she still loved me.”
He ran his thumb over the picture.
“You can see how beautiful she was. Too beautiful to die as young as she did.
She was only 24 - only 24.”
He stared at it and Debbie felt that he had gone somewhere where only two people existed.
He took a deep breath.


“I should have done this a long time ago. She uh.  she was an only child and
her parents are gone now. My parents died a few years ago and my brother never really knew her. He lives up in Canada. All our friends are long gone, scattered to the four winds.”
He looked up and met Debbie’s eyes. She wondered if any man would ever again look at her the way he looked at the faded photo on the table.
“She was so beautiful. Before it all fell apart, she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. But I’m....the only one left alive who knows how beautiful she was, how wonderful she was. If something happens to me. ”
He took her hand.
“It’s not right that she should be forgotten like that. If we had had children, there would be somebody to mourn her, somebody to bring flowers, to keep her memory alive. It’s not much, but all I can do is put up a memorial, a granite marker, to tell people who pass by that somebody special lived and is buried there.
“I want you to have her name—Margaret Elise Abbott—put on the marker, and the dates January 3, 1956 and November 7, 1980, and these words—‘Here Lies A Most Beautiful Lady.’ The $10,000 should more than cover the expenses.”

“No.”

She tried to pull back but he held her hand.

“I don’t expect you’ll have to. I expect to come back and I want to do it myself. I want to say goodbye to her properly but, I couldn’t stand the thought of dying and letting her be forgotten. I don’t want you to do anything until you know I’m not coming back. Do this for me, Debbie. Be my friend. “
She closed her eyes and felt him release her hand. He slipped the check under her palm. He kissed her cheek and stood. When she opened her eyes he and the photo of the love of his life were gone.
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 14: THE CLEAN UP CREW—SECRETS


Everyone has secrets.
When I was 12 years old a friend and I discovered a treasure trove of Juggs, Flings, Gents, Playboys and Penthouses buried in a cardboard box in a shed in their back yard otherwise stacked with old newspapers, Life and Parade and Readers Digest magazines.
We did the usual 12-year-old things. I already knew about jerking off.
There were no dirty magazines around, my mother being a protective single mom and there were no men around on a regular basis except for a guy who worked at a drugstore on 103rd Street not too far from our Westside home and on most Fridays would take her out to a seafood restaurant for shrimp while a 17-year-old high college senior would let me watch TV while she talked with her boyfriend.
But we did have JC Penney's catalogs and some of those bra illustrations were pretty hot for a 12-year-old. And, of course there were pictures and magazines that guys at college would pass around.
But I’d never seen anything like Juggs. Fling and Gent were incredible, but Juggs was…I fell instantly in love. Beautiful girls and older women with incredible, huge breasts topped by aureole as big as dinner plates, distended nipples surrounded by visible milk ducts in those women whom I later learned must have had children and breast-fed before their modeling shots were taken.
For awhile I thought I was going to hurt my penis. I spent every spare minute I could get away from my mother, when she was working or out of the house for any reason, frantically jerking, cumming on my hand or into toilet paper, staring at pictures of beautiful women with huge breasts in the two dozen magazines my friend had sold me.
She must have noticed something. Probably the way I couldn’t look her in the eye when she’d come in from work or we’d be sitting in the living room watching television.
It wasn’t just that I realized that she was a woman and that she had breasts like the ones I fantasized over, underneath her blouses. Or that I noticed when she brought in plain white bras and panties in a basket from the line out back of our Westside home. Noticed in a way I never had before.
It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want her looking at me. Because I knew if she looked for more than an instant she would see it on me, on my face.
I felt that something important and terrible had changed inside me. Before she had just been mom. Now she was a set of breasts swinging freely under her


blouse, her behind visible under her dress.
She was in some way naked to me now, the same way Mrs. Baker at college had been transformed, the way my friend Eddie’s mother had become a tormenting nymph as she worked outside in shorts and a t-shirt with no bra.
If I could have gone back to the day we had discovered that trove of men’s magazines, if I could have erased it from my mind, even if I lost the incredible pleasure of the moment of spurting, I would have.
Because I didn’t want to carry around the secret that burned in my mind now.
And then of course there was the day when she walked into my bedroom home earlier from work than I’d expected. I couldn’t’ speak and she didn’t say a word. Just stared at me with an expression I’d never seen on her face before. Then turned and walked out without a word.
I stayed in my room for hours. Other than pulling my pants up and cleaning off my sticky dick, and hiding my Juggs magazines, I didn’t move. I couldn’t think. It seemed that time had come to a stop, the world had ended. I could never leave that room again. Could never face her without seeing that expression again.
She knocked on my door.

“Dinner’s ready, Billy. Wash up and come out.” A half hour later she knocked again.

Finally an hour later the knob turned and she stepped inside.

I couldn’t look at her. I was sitting up on my bed, studying a Fantastic Four comic with single minded intensity.
“Billy…..Billy….look at me.”
I raised my eyes from Mr. Fantastic and The Thing and found her gaze focused on me like a laser.
I felt like scrubbing my eyeballs with steel wool. She was a beautiful woman.
My mother was a beautiful woman.
“Billy, I know you’re embarrassed. I am too. But…you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s….natural…at your age. I just wasn’t expecting it. If your father was here…”

She took a deep breath and I noticed the way her breasts rose and fell. “But he isn’t.”

I went back to studying the The Fantastic Four.

She was standing beside me and pulled the comic from my hands. “Billy, look at me.”

I did.

She sat down beside me.

“Your father would do this better, but I’ll do the best I can. You weren’t doing anything wrong. Boys do that. Your father…told me he used to do it…a lot. It’s something you outgrow – mostly.”


She stood up.
“I know you’re embarrassed now. But that will pass. If you ever want to talk about it…I’ll tell Brian and he will talk to you. He’s a guy. You can talk to him the way you can’t talk to me. Okay?”
We didn’t talk for awhile. But eventually it got better. And to this day I think, and hope, that she thought I was embarrassed because she walked in on me masturbating. But that is one secret that will go down into the grave with me. Nobody knows what was really bothering me.
Everyone has secrets.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 5, 2005 -- WEDNESDAY - 4:30 P.M.


I had returned from James’ funeral and was diving back into the accumulated paperwork that had piled up over a week. I make it a habit just to glance at arrest reports, to see if anybody interesting might have entered the system. I almost overlooked it, but something caught my attention and then I realized the name I was looking at.
I rang the Lieutenant in charge at the jail and asked him about the prisoner who’d been brought in Monday and had sat in the jail for the past two days.
“The charge is aggravated battery and attempted murder but there’s no bond.

Why?”

“He was going to go before a judge Tuesday morning,” Lieutenant “Red” Butler said with his Arkansas Hillbilly Twang that 20 years out of the Ozarks had never eroded.
“He nearly killed a woman, tried to strangle her, but he didn’t finish the job. He scared the hell out of her and she filed an order to keep him the hell away from her regardless of the charges the arresting officer filed. However, before he could go in front of the judge, the son of a bitch nearly killed two inmates in the general holding cell where we were keeping him. He also sent one of my guys to University with a dislocated shoulder when he tried to get in the middle of it.”
“What happened? Why weren’t more charges filed against him?”
“Two of our alleged tough guy thugs moved in on him Monday night. Before it was over, he’d crippled one guy—smashed his knee up, broke his arm and collarbone - and beat the other guy so badly that he’s in the hospital in a coma. Harrington, Bob Harrington, was on shift duty and came in to try to save the guy. The ‘victim’ did something that nearly tore Harrington’s shoulder out of its socket.”
“Why the hell no charges?”
“Cameras caught the whole thing. He was defending himself. The two guys in the hospital started it all and he—uh—he tore them up before anybody could do anything to stop him. When he realized that Harrington was a jail officer, he


backed off. He even helped pop his shoulder back in its socket before the other officers could get in there.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“Cameras don’t lie. We have audio as well. One of your guys told us we’d be lucky if he didn’t wind up suing us and making a bundle off the city for not protecting him better than we did.”
“Where is he now, and has he seen a judge?”
“No, we couldn’t charge him, but in light of everything that happened, and the fact the woman he nearly killed is terrified and begging us to keep him behind bars, we managed to put off a court appearance for a few days. That gives us a chance to figure out what the hell is going on and maybe let this guy cool down. We’re keeping him in a solitary holding cell. It’s not safe to leave him in the general population.”
“I’m coming down, Red. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Don’t tell him I’m coming.”
“To what do we owe this honor? You don’t usually come down for a face to face with anybody.”
“It’s personal.”
Butler himself was waiting at the entrance to the maze of halls and walkways that make up the jail when I got down there. They buzzed me in through the admitting door and he led the way. It took 10 minutes to reach one of the few individual cells we kept for dangerous visitors or those who were in danger themselves in the general population.
There was a hallway about four feet across, bars and a room with only enough space for a cot, a sink and an overhead television. A dark haired man lay on the cot, his arms folded under his head, staring at the television which was broadcasting soap operas at that time of day.
Butler stood beside me and he noticed that I didn’t get close to the bars, or close enough so that the man lying relaxed on the cot could get to me before I could move back.
“I guess you do know the guy,” he said. “Paul. Paul Donnally.”
After a moment, Donnally turned his head toward me and glanced at both of us. Butler he didn’t recognize, but I could tell he remembered me. I looked for what I’d seen in his eyes the day I’d fought Doug at UNF, but they were simply blank. He turned his head back away from me to stare at the ceiling.
I told Butler to get me a chair and when it came I sat down across from Donnally.
‘Mr. Donnally, I need to talk to you. Could you give me a few minutes of your time?”


He was silent for an unnerving amount of time, then sat up on his cot so quickly I almost leaned back away from him.
“I guess I’ve got the time, Mr. Maitland, but what brings a man of your stature down to talk to a simple wife beater?”
“Not beaten, the hospital records said she might have permanent damage to her vocal cords. You strangled her so severely you actually broke a number of blood vessels in her throat. They say it’s a miracle she didn’t die there, choke to death on her own blood. That was your wife, your wife of nearly 20 years. Why did you try to kill her?”
He looked at the floor as though studying the tile pattern, then said, “I didn’t try to kill her. If I had, she’d be dead.”
“You came very close.”
“I just lost it for a minute but I didn’t want to kill her.”

He could have been discussing the weather, or the last Jaguars game. “You know that you’re a very dangerous man, don’t you?”

He shook his head.

“We’re all dangerous.”

“You nearly kill your wife. You send two big bruisers to the hospital, one with life threatening injuries. You nearly tear a jail officer’s shoulder off. That makes you more dangerous than most. That makes me wonder if I should do anything I can to keep you off the streets and away from other people you could hurt.”
He looked at me for a moment, dropped his eyes and then looked back at me and I almost jumped out of my skin. Whatever it was that he was hiding flashed across his eyes for a moment.
“I guess you’re probably right, Mr. Maitland. I probably shouldn’t be let out of here. I’ll make it easy on you. I’ll plead guilty to aggravated battery and attempted murder. That should put me away for a while.”
I just stared at him for a moment. I wondered what was going on behind those blank screens of eyes. I still had the certainty in my gut that he was a very dangerous man, but I just didn’t get the vibes that he was a bad man, and yet he had nearly murdered his wife. Forget the two thugs, they’d deserved whatever they got, but he had nearly strangled the mother of his two college age children.
“Do you want to talk?” “No.”
“Would you mind - are you going to raise legal hell with us if we keep you here a few more days investigating what happened - before you go in front of a judge? You could get out quicker if you ask to see the judge.”
He shook his head again.
“No, I’m fine here. It’s good for thinking, no distractions.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“I’ll be back, Paul. Is it okay if I call you Paul?”

“Why not? It’s my name. You mind if I call you Mr. Maitland?”
I shook my head. How the hell could I like the guy, and not want to be in the same cell with him?
I stood to leave. He looked at me again and I didn’t see the darkness in him.
“You ever think, Mr. Maitland, how we wound up like this? Me in here with a wife I love more than life itself and want to strangle until her heart stops, and you out there with a wife that you gave your life to, and she threw you away. How do things like that happen?”
“I wish I knew, Paul. I really wish I knew.”
I was walking across the street and back to the courthouse when I saw Debbie walking in from the Bay Street entrance. She carried the briefcase she’d started using since she’d started with the Public Defender’s Office and as always she looked good. She also looked like she’d lost her last friend and it was plain she’d been crying.
I kicked myself, but there was always the possibility that something was wrong with the kids. I knew that’s what I told myself but I knew it just kept her thinking that I still cared about her and, of course, I didn’t - I really didn’t!
I cut her off and it was an indication of how deep in her thoughts she was that she didn’t see me until I was standing directly in front of her. She had to stop abruptly.
“Bill. I didn’t-“
“Is everything okay, Deb? The kids alright?”
“The kids? Yeah - they’re both fine, I think. Haven’t talked to Kelly in a couple of days. BJ’s back in college and seems to be doing okay, if I can stay on him to do his homework.”

“Then?”

“Clint...just flew out of JIA.”

I couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of, something, but I had liked the guy. “I’m - sorry, Deb, I know you liked the guy. Is he coming back soon, or at

all?”

She clouded over and I knew I’d said exactly the wrong thing. “Why are all men such stupid macho idiots?”

“To give women something to work with?”

She looked at the big clock on the wall of the entrance to the courthouse and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to check in with Johnny. You’re looking good, Bill. That head wound cleared up nicely.”
Then she walked away. Something felt odd about that encounter and then I realized she hadn’t been the one pushing for us to talk. She must have really


developed feelings for the guy and, again, I didn’t know quite how that made me feel.
When I got back to my office there was a blonde guy in the waiting area who looked vaguely familiar, although I wasn’t sure where I knew him from. Cheryl said, “This is Mr. Tucker, Mr. Maitland. Do you have a moment?”
I headed into my office and told her to send him in.

He folded his long, lanky frame—he had to be about six foot three or four—into the chair opposite me and said, “It’s Gil Tucker; we met on the Bonne Chance. I could see you trying to place me. Remember, at the Captain’s Dinner.”

I remembered. I was surprised that Ms. Stein hadn’t eaten him alive but he looked none the worse for wear.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you again. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Paul Donnally and see if I can get permission to see him. The officer on duty down there said he was being kept away from the general population and not receiving visitors.”
“How do you know Donnally?”

“We used to be next door neighbors, for years, and I’m his best friend.” “What kind of guy is he? Did you have any idea he was going to try to

strangle his wife?”

“No. Not that she didn’t deserve it. Actually, that’s kind of strong but, anyway, Paul is the last person on earth anyone would ever expect to do ANYTHING violent. It’s not in his nature, or it wasn’t. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him get really angry in all the years I’ve known him—until recently.”
“What happened?”
“Too long to go into. She’s been cheating on him for years and he was blind. She’s the...the kind of woman...I’ll tell you the kind of woman she is. Paul is my best friend. He pulled me out of Hell when my own marriage fell apart. Even knowing what she’s done to him, if she showed up at my apartment at 3 a.m., I don’t know that I wouldn’t do her. That’s the kind of woman she is.
“Anyway, he found out what she was up to, the kind of woman she really is, in the worst possible way. I had to scbang up what was left and try to put him back together again. He might have been able to walk away, but the bitch wouldn’t let him alone. He tried to avoid her but....and when he met her  he
snapped. That’s all I can figure. I still don’t understand it.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “I need to talk to him. I can get him the best defense attorneys around. I have a little money, actually, a lot. I worked for Bell Labs and I have a few patents. I’d like to get him out of the jail.”
“He doesn’t want to get out. I was just down there and he’s in a single cell for the safety of everybody else down there. He put two inmates into the hospital and nearly put one of the jail officers out.”

“Paul? Paul did that?”

“There’s things about the man you obviously don’t know.”

“Obviously. It’s like finding out that the world is flat. But I’d still like to see him.”

“Sure, I’ll call down and let them know to let you in. Do I need to remind you not to bring in any files or hacksaws?”

He smiled back.

“Attorneys are much more effective.”

As he stood to walk out, he looked back at me and said, “He’s not the kind of man you think he is, Maitland, he really isn’t, no matter what it looks like.”

I watched him as he went out the door, thinking that everybody deserved one friend like Gil Tucker, or Lew Walters.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 6, 2005 -- THURSDAY - 6:30 P.M.


I was in my Escalade heading for Baymeadows, where the woman with the biggest, or at least the sexiest, tits in the world was waiting to go out to dinner with me when my cell rang. I saw that it was an SA number.
“What is it, Mitch? DO NOT SAY an emergency has come up.” “An emergency has come up.”
“I told you not to say that. What is it?”
“We’ve got a lady here who apparently is a cousin of Wilbur Bell. She’s doing her damnedest to talk old Wilbur out of testifying against Sutton. I’ve got the room bugged so I could hear what was going on and she’s telling him he’s wasting his time because they’ll never convict Sutton. Also, Wilbur’s daughter might ‘come into some money’ if Wilbur conveniently develops amnesia about the whole thing.”
“That asshole and his mother never quit. Let me get over there and see if I can convince the cousin to roll over on Sutton and momma. It would be nice to put them away for jury tampering even if we never get him on murder charges. Get her out of there but don’t let her get away. Wilbur is too far gone to even let him be disturbed by shit like this. Sutton will get the same benefit if she precipitates a heart attack and kills him off.”
It was a gamble because we couldn’t use the information obtained by the bug if the cousin turned stubborn on us and refused to admit she was trying to tamper with a witness. However, it gave us a shot, and that made it worthwhile to leave the biggest tits in the western hemisphere unexamined for another few days.
I punched in Myra’s number.
“Hello, Bill. Please tell me this is to confirm that you’re on your way over here. I got dressed up and this one has buttons strong enough to hold me in but it’s low cut enough to be. interesting.”


“I wish, Myra. Something has come up. I’ve got to go. It’s important or I’d be over there in 30 minutes. Is there any chance that, maybe, we could get together for drinks later tonight?”
“Tomorrow’s a work day Bill, you know that, and some of us need our beauty sleep. Besides, you show up on my doorstep at 11 p.m., we get to drinking and we’re liable to do something we’ll regret.”
“You might, I won’t.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s not like you’re dying for - relief, is it?” “That means.  ?”
“A little birdie told me that Celestial Madonna was grinning ear to ear when you left her in New York this past weekend, and it wasn’t just because you give good interview, was it?”
“Myra, you think I’d mix business and pleasure?” “I think you’re a man.”
“It was an interesting weekend.”
“You’d have had more fun with me, but that’s too catty. I’m glad you had a good time. Let’s try to reschedule.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow or come up and see you. I don’t know about this weekend, but we will get together.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Right now I guess I’ll get out of these clothes, lay down naked on my satin sheets and rub lotion where I need it. Bye.”
I ALMOST kept going to her apartment, but the ghost of my father whispered in my ear and I did the right thing. I drove to Baptist Medical Center, made sure Wilbur was still breathing, spent a frustrating hour trying to threaten or cajole the cousin into rolling over on the Suttons but finally gave up. She was either too stubborn, too stupid or too greedy to be rollable, but I made sure the nurses and staff knew this lady was never to be allowed in or anywhere near Sutton’s room again.
Then I went home and for the first time in a long time jerked off to a porno about a huge breasted nympho on one of the better computer porn sites. It helped
—a little bit.

OCTOBER 7, 2005 -- FRIDAY - 9 A.M.

I stood up in front of Judge Larry Martin, a young black judge only a few years older than myself, and watched Paul Donnally being walked by bailiffs to the defendant’s table from the area where prisoners were kept before they were called. Johnny August stood at the table waiting for him. That alone was enough to raise a stir among the knowledgeable courthouse watchers. The Public Defender never appeared on first hearings before a judge. The newest and lowliest of the low did this scut work, but not today.


Before Donnally had even gotten into place, August turned his nearly sightless eyes toward me, then looked back at the judge and said, “Your honor, I want to formally protest the action of Assistant State Attorney William Maitland. The bond he is requesting is an affront to decency,”
Martin looked at me and asked, “Mr. Maitland, do you have anything you want to say about this matter. Not that I have any doubt that you do.”
Before I could answer, August in his best tone of feigned outrage, interrupted, “Your honor, how can there be any justification for a million dollar CASH bond in a case that—at worst—might involve attempted first degree murder and will likely be pled down to a much less severe offense. Serial killers and terrorists don’t face million dollar CASH bonds. It is unheard of, unless Mr. Maitland thinks we’re dealing with a multi-millionaire cold blooded murderer who will run to a country without an extradition treaty as soon as he walks out of here. My client is a public relations professional at a local university, a white collar worker of limited financial means, who has never been guilty of even a traffic infraction, much less a serious crime. I am more of a flight risk than Mr. Donnally.”
Martin let August make his spiel, then directed his attention back to me.
“I’ll grant that a million dollar cash bond is unusual, your honor, but I do think it’s justified in this case. First, the defendant is charged with attempting to murder his wife by crushing her throat with his bare hands and almost succeeding. His wife sent a letter to my office begging us to keep her husband in custody because of her very real fear that the next time he sees her, he will complete the job. She has hired private security preparing for the possibility that he might make bond.
“Secondly, while in custody, he became involved in a disturbance with fellow inmates that left one in a coma and the other with serious injuries, both of whom are still being treated at University Medical Center. In the same incident he ripped a jail officer’s arm literally out of its socket. He attempted to aid the officer afterwards and it appears the officer might not suffer permanent damage.
“To sum up, while in custody and being overseen he did serious bodily damage to three grown, good-sized men, with his bare hands. I leave it to your imagination what he might do to a five-foot-four, 120 pound woman with those same bare hands. Also, we are dealing with a domestic situation here. You and I are both aware that some of the most heinous violence we see comes in exactly such situations. Finally, the bond is appropriate because Mr. Donnally has requested and agreed to such a bond.”
August must have been warned because he quickly said, “It’s clear, your honor, that Mr. Donnally is under severe emotional pressure and quite honestly feels so guilty about the attack on his wife that he feels being kept in custody is


an appropriate punishment for what he’s done. Nonetheless, bond is not our system’s way of punishing people for what they’ve done. Mr. Donnally has friends and family who will stay with him and monitor his behavior to avoid any recurrence of such an incident.”
“Ask Mr. Donnally,” I told Martin. “Ask him what he thinks.”
Martin looked at Donnally, in handcuffs and leg chains unlike any other inmate brought over from the jail. Both his bailiffs were carrying security officer-issue Tasers as well.
“Mr. Donnally, is what Mr. Maitland says true? You asked for and agreed to a million dollar cash bond?”
“Yes, your honor?” “Why?”
“I asked for a high cash bond so I couldn’t be bonded out. My wife and I, are having serious problems and she will not leave me alone. I am afraid that, if I wind up in close proximity to her again, I will kill her, and we have two children. I’m doing this to protect her until it’s safe for me to be free again.”
“You realize, Mr. Donnally, that we are not running a free hotel and recovery unit in our jail? It wasn’t designed to give individuals such as yourself a place to get your emotions under control before venturing out again.”
“We are, as are his friends, in the process of obtaining psychiatric counseling for Mr. Donnally,” I told Martin, “The state has no intention of turning the Duval County Jail into a recovery facility. This is a short term strategy to prevent a tragedy, your honor. No one will be served if Mrs. Donnally is murdered, her husband becomes a murderer, and their children are deprived of their parents. We merely ask that you let this bond remain in place for a relatively short period of time.”
“The state might have the best of intentions, your honor, but this is not the proper way to go about it,” August said.
Martin thought about it for a half minute, then said, “I tend to agree, but in the interests of public safety and with the understanding that this will be brought back before the court shortly to be changed, I’ll set the bond at this time.”
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 15: MEETING PAULA DONNALLY


The Welaka Cannibal who had cut portions off his victims while they were still alive, and had made a very credible threat to someday come back and cut my beating heart out of my still living body had been a tall, stoop shouldered, near-sighted former college crossing guard who had played Santa Clause at charity events for years before his true nature came to light.
The near-sightedness gave his features a kind of softness, as he had to squint when he wasn’t wearing his glasses and he usually didn’t wear them except when he was working as a college librarian at an elementary college library.
The step mother of the two-year-old whose dismembered body had been thought to have been grabbed by a pack of feral dogs until we discovered cigarette burns on his body, was a pretty, if slightly overweight, Sunday college teacher. She almost got away with it except that searchers found the remains before wild dogs out near Cecil Field in Clay County had eaten all the remains.
Enough of the body was left that forensics showed definite evidence of cigarette burns, which meant that while the dogs might have killed the little boy, they weren’t crushing out lit cigarettes on his chest and buttocks. And as sharp as some of their claws and teeth were, they didn’t leave the characteristic slashes of razors, found on one arm that remained uneaten.
His step-mother swore to God that she had nothing to do with the little boy’s death, until we matched her teeth to marks found on his back where something had gouged out a hunk of his young flesh.
When we finally broke her down, we learned the mechanics of what she had done. We were never able to figure out exactly why she had done it. Even Dr. Ernst Teller, the Third Circuit’s primary criminal psychiatrist, after four lengthy interview sessions finally gave up and said no one would probably ever know why she had tortured the little boy to death.
“Evil has no easy explanation,” was all he finally wrote in his report to me.
And Paul Donnally was a man who had literally superhuman strength of a kind that I would not have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it firsthand and viewed tapes of him manhandling three men. And he had nearly strangled his wife to death.
But if I’d sat down in a Doctor’s waiting room and we had engaged in casual conversation, I would never have gotten the slightest warning tingle that this was a dangerous man.
Evil, danger, would not be so frightening, if we could see it coming. Usually we don’t.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 7, 2005 -- FRIDAY - 3 P.M.



David Brandon, one of the other two ASAs equal to me (on paper) in the State Attorney food chain walked in without knocking. There were only three people in the department who could do that. Even though I carried the most weight in the office, Brandon had been here longer, had taken my leapfrogging him to head the office under the Big Man with good grace, and basically was an all-around nice guy.

“Hi, guy,” he said, extending a letter to me across my desk. “Hey Dave, what is this?”

“Read it and be astounded.” I opened it and read.

“Mr. Brandon,
“I wish to formally rescind my previous request that my husband, Paul Donnally, be held in the tightest custody possible. I would like to request that he be released as I am formally withdrawing my complaint against him.
“I know that formal charges have been filed against him for assault, but those charges are not valid. We had a fight and I attacked him with a knife and he was defending himself. If anybody should be in jail it should be me, not him. He took the blame for the assault because that is the kind of man that he is. I accused him of choking me in anger over a fight we had and faked the injuries. I had a friend choke me after my husband left our home to leave marks and he accidently choked me harder than he realized.
“I will not testify against my husband, regardless of what action the State Attorney’s Office decides to take against me. I regret the actions I have taken and am ready to take responsibility and any legal punishment that may result from this letter.”
“Sincerely, Paula Donnally.”
“Are you believing that crap?” Dave said, shaking his head.
“Not really. I wonder if she knows that he’s already shown how dangerous he is and that there is no way in hell anyone is going to believe her story about her faking those injuries.”
“I know. I talked to the officer who took the call. She was terrified when they showed up. She could barely breathe and she was trembling and hyperventilating. The officer is a veteran and he said no way was she faking. She was scared shitless.”
“So why would she try to retract her testimony, get the husband who came within an eyelash of killing her out of jail, and face prosecution for faking an assault and a criminal charge? Does any of this make any sense at all to you?”
He shook his head.


“No, but you know that at this point if Donnally wanted to walk, I’d probably suggest that we let him. If she’s serious about retracting her accusations, even if we have physical evidence, we’d have a hard time winning a case. It’s hard to overcome a weeping wife testifying that she lied to get her husband in trouble after a fight. As to the jail, hell you know that we’d face liability there. I think the Big Man would tell us to let him go before we piss him off enough to take us to court.”
I couldn’t argue with his conclusions, but something in me rebelled at the thought of turning Donnally loose on the world. I needed to look into the attack on the wife try to figure out what was going on before I did anything I couldn’t take back.
“Anyway Bill, she called about an hour ago and asked to come in to talk with us about the case. I figured we could work something out and maybe make this whole thing go away.”
“I don’t know Dave. Maybe I should sit in on-“
“Shit, Bill, you put in about 90 hours a week as it is. You’ve got other stuff on your plate. Look, I’ll have Gary Matthews sit in with me and I won’t do anything. I’ll call or email you over the weekend and tell her we can’t do anything until Monday, so you’ll have the final say if you really have doubts about all this. Okay?”
I did have a hell of a lot of other stuff to wade through. I was a little bit curious about Paula Donnally after what Gil Tucker had said, but I guess after you’ve seen one cheating slut, and I had been married to her, you didn’t need to see any more. Alright, I know that didn’t apply to my former wife exactly, but there were still plenty of times when I felt like it did. However, if Gil Tucker was right, Paula Donnally was in another category altogether.
“Okay, hey, didn’t your kids have that softball game this evening. I thought you said you had promised Darlene that you’d get off on time for a change.”
If there was anyone in the world who was more married than I had been, it would have to be Brandon. His wife wasn’t the hottest woman I’d ever seen. She’d put on weight after three kids, but love is blind. Brandon doted on her and his 16-year-old son and two seven-year-old twin girls. Just knowing there were marriages like his around made me feel better.
“I’ll make it in plenty of time. The game is under the lights and it doesn’t start until 6. I’ve been promising Darlene I’d get off earlier. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, two hours to finish up with Ms. Donnally and then I’ll be out of here.”
I finished by 7:30 p.m. and called down to Brandon’s office but there was no answer. I had gone by Myra’s earlier but she had plans with—female—friends she’d already made.


“I’m a little hurt that you’d go out with female friends when you have a chance to be wined and dined by an internationally famous legal superstar,” I told her, making sure to smile so she’d know that I knew this was all bullshit.
“These are two of my oldest friends, Bill,” she said, bending forward to make sure I got a nice view of world-class cleavage. “I don’t have many female friends, for obvious reasons. I know you better than to think you don’t understand that. They’re in town this weekend so can we have a rain check till next week?”
Thinking of Lew Walters and Gil Tucker, and how empty my life would have been if there had been nobody like one of them in it when my life crashed and burned, I said, “Yeah, I do understand. Have a good time. I’ll just take a lot of cold showers.”
By the time I made it by the gym and got out and grabbed a late coffee it was past 10 p.m. I hit the Liberty Street condo, I could never call it home, and watched a little late night television. It would never be home, but it wasn’t the empty Hellish chamber it had once been. or maybe it was just me that had changed.
Saturday I popped over to the Bascombs, had coffee with Cathy and Roy and talked Kelly into going out for breakfast at an IHOP. I built up at least a three-hour exercise debt I needed to pay to work off the calories, but it was worth it. We could talk now and I learned a little about all the terrible and wonderful things that were happening in a beautiful 18-year-old’s life. Oddly, I felt closer to her than I had when we had been living under the same roof.

BJ was off on an overnight with a friend so I was at a loose end. I called Heather McDonald and Meagan Whitcomb but couldn’t reach either of them, so I wound up driving over to St. Augustine. I walked the beach, threw popcorn to the seagulls until an avian riot broke out, and sat in the dunes that night watching the stars, wondering exactly where Paris was on the night horizon in front of me.

I was back to the condo by 11 p.m. As I turned on the television and grabbed a Diet 7 Up, it hit me. I looked around the small and by now familiar rooms as I had the night before. It would never be home, but it was really me that was changing. I was getting used to this life, this lonely life. Deep down I’d never really thought that would happen, yet it had. I didn’t know if that made me glad, or sad.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 10, 2005 -- MONDAY - 9 A.M.

I had hit the gym early in the morning and got in only at 8:45 a.m. I was involved in paperwork on four upcoming cases when Dave Brandon walked in. He seemed a little nervous, but otherwise the same old Dave I’d known for more than 10 years.


“You didn’t e-mail me or call me, Dave. I was expecting to hear the outcome of your meet. Was she lying through her teeth or do you think she might have faked the charge?”
“Gary and I did our damnedest to shake her. I threatened to have her taken out in handcuffs after we arrested her for filing a fraudulent criminal charge, told her it was a felony, that we made an example of people that filed those kind of fake charges and that she’d serve AT LEAST a year in the county jail - nothing! She swore up and down she had faked it, gave us the name and phone number of the guy she said she had called who came by and did the fake strangling.
“We grilled her for two hours and still couldn’t shake her. She’s either a complete sociopath who has no concept of the difference between truth and lies, or she’s the greatest actress in the history of the world.”
“So you believe her?”
He sat across from me, rubbed his chin and thought about it. Then he grabbed his ear and tugged it as he thought some more. He hadn’t come to any snap judgments. This was something he had thought about. There was something else, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe he had doubts about what he was going to say, or second thoughts.
“Yeah, bottom line, Bill, I guess I do. I, uh, in a way I guess I wouldn’t blame the poor bastard if he had tried to kill her. You’d have to see this woman, Bill. I always thought Debbie was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, except for Myra Martinez of course, but Paula Donnally is - I don’t even know if a description would do her justice. You’d have to be in the room with her. She has a, presence, I guess, that’s hard to describe.”
I looked at him in amazement. This didn’t even sound like the man I’d worked with for a decade.
“You didn’t fall in love with her, did you?”
He almost physically jumped when I said that and gave me a guilty look.
Jesus Christ! She HAD gotten to him.
He laughed and even the laugh sounded fake.
“No, of course not. If anything, I might have fallen in lust for a few hours. I’ve never even thought about, other women, like that. Except, but if I wasn’t married, God knows if I wouldn’t have hit on her. But, what I was trying to say is, I can understand that poor bastard being devastated when he learned what she’s been up to, for almost a decade, she said. She said when she finally faced him and admitted what had been going on, he didn’t get violent. He went catatonic, she said, just froze and wouldn’t talk to her, then walked out.”
“So why would he confess to trying to kill his wife and ask to be kept behind bars.”


“She said he found out what was going on almost a month ago and she’s been trying to meet with him face to face to talk, to put an end to their marriage. She said she wants out, but he’s been ducking and dodging. He managed to avoid her until this past weekend and it’s like he blacked out and just wouldn’t listen to her tell him she wanted out, wanted a divorce. I think he’s using us as just another way to avoid facing the truth about his wife and his marriage.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching him.
“I don’t know if we shouldn’t help him out, for a little while. He’s too dangerous. Even if he didn’t attack her, he could kill her in a few seconds if he wanted to.”
He shook his head again.
“He might be dangerous to others, but you heard what August said. The guy has NO criminal history. He’s never raised a hand against anybody, until the other night in the jail - and that was in self-defense. Paula says that he never even looked like he was going to attack her that night. She said he just pissed her off so bad when he walked out on her that she lost it and decided she was going to fry his ass and get him tossed into jail on that fake assault charge. She’s not worried about his actually physically attacking her.”
So now it was ‘Paula’ and not ‘Mrs. Donnally.’ Now I was beginning to regret that I hadn’t sat in on the meeting. This woman had to be something else to affect a man like Dave Brandon, and his theory that Donnally had never lifted a finger against anyone else was horse shit, but I couldn’t tell him about the day that Doug and I had our little go-round at UNF.
“Bottom line, I don’t think he’s any danger to his wife. I think the charge was faked, I think we’re incurring legal liability the longer we hold him and I think we ought to get Martin to immediately lift the million dollar cash bond. Paula said she’d bond him out the minute we do that. All she wants is to sit down with him, and he can have an attorney hired by his friend Gil Tucker. She just wants to get some closure on her marriage, get him to agree that it’s over.”
“What should we do about Mrs. Donnally? She’s admitting to filing a false security officer report and that’s what started this whole mess?”
He looked at me and grinned.
“If you can guarantee me a jury of 6 women, all of them straight, I might take her to trial, but if you have one straight guy and/or lesbian, I don’t think you’ll ever convict her.”
“She’s that hot?”
“You’d have to have seen her in person, but yes.”
“You think Matthews would agree with your assessment?” “Yes, we talked after she left the office.”
“What time did she leave?”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“About...5...I think. Look, the longer we hold this guy, the more risk we take. I really think we need to cut this guy loose. I know the mayhem at the jail looks bad, but he was attacked.”

I leaned back and thought about things. “How’d your son’s game go?”

“What?”

He looked at me as if he hadn’t understood my words.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something else. You told me once that Jerry was a promising pitcher. He threw a no-hitter once. How did he do Friday night?”
“Oh, he had an okay game. He struck out all but four batters and only allowed two runs. Pretty good game for him, but not his best. Anyway, unless you have a real strong problem with it, I’m going to pop down to Martin’s office and ask him to remove the cash bond. Donnally can be let out on his own recognizance or a pretty low bond.”
“Why don’t you wait, Dave. Let me think about it for just a little while longer. Let’s say I’ll get back to you in an hour. I’m pretty sure I’ll cut him loose, but I just have some, reservations. I know you’ve been in that situation before. Just let me get my head straight, okay?”
“Sure, but I’ll send Martin’s office a heads-up that we will probably be down there this morning.”
After he’d walked out I just stared at the door for a few minutes. I knew and trusted Dave Brandon but I remembered what had stuck in my mind watching him. I’d played poker with him at a couple of friendly games and anybody who played regularly knew that he had a ‘tell’ or unconscious tic he displayed when he was bluffing - he pulled on his right ear. No one had ever told him about it because people loved taking his money. He never did figure out why he always lost at poker.
Then there was that ‘Paula.’ Dave was a formal kind of guy so it should have been ‘Mrs. Donnally.’ Finally, Dave was the patron saint of proud Papas. Usually you had to come up with some reason to shut him up when he started going on about how great a baseball player his son was. It sounded today like his son’s game was an afterthought.
I went through my phone list in my computer and dialed a number. It rang a half dozen times before a voice came on the phone. After I got off the phone I sat at my desk for thirty minutes thinking about what I’d learned. I couldn’t believe what I’d learned, but it was all starting to make sense. It made me feel like shit. Why was it ALWAYS bad news in this business.
Even when we won a few, it was in the aftermath of cleaning up terrible crimes that left lives ruined and hearts broken. It was the nature of the game we


played. We were the cleanup crew that came along in the aftermath to clean up the chaos that was the dark side of life. I had to be grateful for justice, not happy endings.

I walked down one flight of stairs. I could have taken the elevator, but I was putting off what I knew I was going to have to say and do.

I approached Sally Evans. She smiled and said, “He’s waiting for you, Mr.

Maitland.”

I walked into his office and closed the door behind me. At that point I think he knew. I sat down and we just stared at each other for a few moments.

“What the hell did you do, Dave? What did you do?”

“What you think, Bill, but it’s not what you think. I didn’t do anything illegal.

Unethical, maybe. Suicidal but not illegal.”

“You had sex with a victim, Dave. A woman who by definition is under stress and in a position to be manipulated by you. You had sex with a woman who wants a very big favor from this office, and I’ll bet she expects after you screwed her brains out that she’d get it. That’s why you were so hot to get the cash bond reduced or eliminated so Donnally could get out, wasn’t it?”
“She never asked for anything, Bill. We never talked about it. It just happened.”
“What’d she do, Dave, just walk up to you without words and start blowing you? Jesus Christ, where did your brain go? If Darlene ever even has a suspicion about this! I’ve met her, I know the kind of woman she is. She’s Assembly of God, isn’t she? She will divorce your ass in a heartbeat.”
He looked into my eyes as if trying to read what I was going to do.
“If the Big Man ever hears of this - maybe you didn’t do it deliberately, but it sure as hell looks like you blackmailed a distressed wife into screwing you by holding her husband’s freedom over her head as payment for services rendered. You didn’t promise her anything? Please God, tell me you didn’t offer her a deal.”
“You still don’t get it, Bill. You think you know what happened, but you have no idea. God, I wish it had happened the way you think it did.”
I was trying to figure out what he was trying to say. How could it be anything different than what I thought it was. He wouldn’t be the first man in a position of power to succumb to the temptation to use that power to get between a hot woman’s legs. I’d never succumbed because I always had a hotter woman waiting at home for me.
“How did you know, Bill?”
“Not that it matters, and I’ll never be able to play poker with you again, but you always tug on your ear when you’re bluffing—make that lying - and you were talking too casually about ‘Paula.’ Shit, I could look at you and tell you


were in love, so to speak. Last, but not least, you just didn’t brag enough about Jerry’s baseball game. So, I called Darlene to congratulate her on Jerry’s great game and she told me you were working late and didn’t get home until after 11. She was really pissed at me for sticking you with late night work when you’d been with the office longer than I’ve been.”
“You didn’t let anything slip?”
“No, I apologized for letting my bachelor status blind me to the fact that the guys who are still married have lives outside the office. I was so good that Darlene asked me if I could make it to a party you guys are hosting next weekend. She’s got a divorced friend she wants me to meet.”
For a moment I’d been able to forget what I was down here for.
“How did it happen and have you compromised this office? Is she liable to go to a television station if we don’t spring Donnally, go and complain about sexual harassment by one of the top office Assistants?”
He shook his head. He stared at a globe on his desk that contained a hula dancer who would wiggle her luscious ass in a metronomic display if you shook the globe up. It was the most risqué thing in his life, or had been. Even knowing what had happened, I still couldn’t believe it.
“I didn’t know what to expect, Bill, honest to God. I figured she was probably pretty hot. For a guy to get that whacked out you wouldn’t expect Suzy Homemaker, but when she walked in it was like I said - you had to be there! Long black hair, eyes you could fall into and a body that - she had a body! I looked at her and started getting hard. Thank God I was sitting down. Matthews was standing; he just gave me this grin and then he looked at her. She just looked down at his dick, which was already popping up. Just looked, but damn. ”
He stopped, then gave me an embarrassed look.
“I knew it was getting out of hand. That just wasn’t me. Matthews is single and I hear he’s a real pussy hound, but even he.  anyway, I tried to get it back to
a more businesslike meeting. We talked for nearly an hour and she said everything I’d expected her to say. I tried to talk to her and explain your concerns, how dangerous this guy could be, how dangerous he’d already been and we didn’t believe a damned word of that fairy tale she was trying to sell us.
“All the while we were talking, Matthews kept staring at her tits and then at her legs. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife; she was telling us how much she loved her husband but, the way she looked at you.  ! The only
way I can describe it is, the summer before I met Darlene, a friend’s sister came into town and he asked me to take her out with him on a double date.
“I thought she’d be - you know - a pity date, but she was 5 foot eight and blonde and had absolutely huge tits and from the first moment I laid eyes on her I knew we’d be in bed before the night was over. I don’t remember where we


went to eat, the club we went to. Shit, I might have been sleepwalking. We didn’t even make it back to my place. We walked out to my car. I was so hard I could barely stand up straight.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I sat down in the driver’s seat. She came over to the driver’s side and adjusted the seat as far back as it would go and she sat down in my lap facing me. She unzipped me and I realized a second later she’d taken her panties off and she slid right down on me. I screwed her, or she screwed me, in the parking lot of the club. People were around us, hell, her brother might have walked by. I neither noticed nor cared. The cops could have come up and busted us for public indecency and I wouldn’t have cared.”

He looked at me, coming back from the memory.
“It was the greatest sexual experience of my life until last Friday. I love Darlene. We have what I thought was great sex but, the one night I spent with my friend’s sister was...special.”
“Anyway, sitting in my office with Sally outside and people walking by, even though the door was closed, the sexual tension was as strong. I had to keep remembering why we were here. I kept looking at the photo of Darlene and kids on my desk, as if it could keep me - safe!
“I forgot what I was saying. She looked at Gary’s crotch, then over at me and licked her lips - just licked her lips! I’ll never forget what happened next.
“‘This is silly, Mr. Brandon,’ she said. ‘We both know what’s going to happen, all three of us do. I want it as bad as you two, so we’re wasting valuable time’. She stood up. She’s not that tall and she’s really slender, fine boned I guess is the expression, but she has an ass, and those breasts! She’s not in Debbie’s league, or Myra’s, but she’s so slender they just seem too....big for her body. She walked around the desk, knelt down beside me, reached out and put her hand....on me. I’m not making excuses. I could have stopped her - I should have! I was in a daze, wondering how this woman, who I’ve only known for an hour, could be kneeling down in front of me, rubbing me, then unzipping and pulling me out, squeezing and then sucking - yet I didn’t try to stop her!”
“I knew Sally could have walked in, you could have, the Big Man could have, my career might have been over and my marriage probably would have been over, yet I didn’t try to stop her. I noticed that Gary had unzipped and he was standing beside us. She started alternating. I...I’d never seen anything like that except in a porno, and it was happening in my office.”
“Then she stopped and stood up. She reached over, grabbed a pen off my desk and wrote a number on a memo pad on my desk. She wiped her mouth and walked to the door of my office.”
“She said, ‘I’m going to be at the Hyatt Regency in that room. I’ll be there until 7 and I’ll spend the night if either of you gentleman is inclined to spend it


with me. I hope you won’t stand me up. I am very, very aroused right now. Oh, and no strings attached. This has nothing to do with Paul. I just need a man – or two of you if I get real lucky’.”
“Then she walked out. Gary and I looked at each other. It was a little embarrassing, like jerking off in front of another guy but, I didn’t care at that point. I told Sally I was out on a case, called Darlene and told her I had to work late and drove over to the Hyatt. I didn’t leave there until 10 p.m. I showered before I left because the whole room stunk of sex. Then I went home to Darlene.”
I looked at him and just shook my head.
“That’s one hell of a story. Not the smartest thing for a married top Assistant to do but, you didn’t make her any promises and there wasn’t any talk about a deal for her husband, was there? You didn’t do anything at the hotel that would cause people to remember you, did you? Maybe - just maybe - we can slide by on this. Edwards doesn’t need to know, and she’s got no hold on you, although she could still make trouble for us if she wanted to. Dave, I have to tell you, I expected more sense from you. I can understand Gary, he’s younger and single.”
Brandon lowered his head. When he looked up I thought he was going to cry.
Right then I started getting a very bad feeling.
“On Saturday I was at home watching the kids while Darlene was out shopping, thank God. Jerry was playing video games and the girls were watching a movie in their room. There was a knock at the door and I opened it. There was a guy standing there holding a manila envelope. I didn’t think anything about it. I sometimes get stuff from the office and we get plenty of packages otherwise. I asked him what he had but he just handed me the envelope. It was slim and obviously held a DVD. I took it and was about to ask him where to sign for it but he just turned and walked away. That was strange, but....I took it back into my home office and ripped open the envelope. There was no writing, nothing at all to indicate what was inside. I stuck it in my player and turned the TV on. It was blank for a second and then. ”
He stared at the hula dancer standing still between us. Then he reached down into a desk drawer and pulled out one of those portable DVD players. He plugged it in and said, “Lock the door.”
I came back and sat down behind the desk next to him. He punched the play button and the eight inch screen lit up. Dave lay on a hotel bed while a slender dark hair woman with breasts like gbangfruit bounced wildly as she drove herself down again and again onto his cock. Her thrusts were aided by a naked Gary Matthews ramming his dick into her ass as hard as he could while holding her hips.


“Oh God, yes, ram it in me harder. Damn it, harder. I won’t break. Fuck me.
Davey, Davey  you feel so good in there.”
In the video Dave reached up to hold her by those luscious tits and leaned forward to grab one fat nipple for a second until her rocking motion pulled it out. He grabbed it again and sucked frantically for another second.
She rested her weight on his chest and simply took Matthew’s thrusts while she stayed close to Dave, letting him squeeze and milk those phenomenal tits. I understood what he meant about her breasts being too large for her body. She wasn’t a big woman, but damn, they were impressive.

She pulled his lips off her breast and apparently tried to swallow his tongue. “You love these titties, baby? You want to suck them all night?”

“Oh God, God...yes....yes. ”

“Aren’t you glad I came by your office today, Mr. Brandon?”

“You have to ask, Paula? You can’t feel how glad I am to be here?” “Would you rather be here or home with your wife?”

After a moment...

“You bastard, you’re fucking me and you won’t even tell me I’m hotter than your wife. Does she have tits like these? Is she as tight as me? You didn’t fight too hard when I pulled your dick out and sucked it. Were you thinking about your wife then?”
She pushed herself down and must have done something to squeeze him where a guy likes to be squeezed because he moaned and said, “Oh shit, baby, on her best night, she was never like this.”
She held a breast up and rubbed the nipple over his lips and wouldn’t let him catch it.
“Are you going to be thinking about me tonight or whenever you’re on top of her fat ass? Are you Mr. Brandon?”
“You know I will, dammit, I’ll be thinking about you every night and trying to imagine it’s you I’m inside.”
He hit the pause button.
“There are two hours like that, and I said stuff....stuff about Darlene. I didn’t
realize what she was doing until I saw this video.” “She videotaped you?”
“Who else? I’m not working on anything that might have anything to do with this, and....they delivered it to my home, not to my office. She’s sending a message. If I hadn’t been there, if Darlene had somehow seen this first. ”
He rubbed his eyes.
“It's not just that she will divorce me if she ever sees this. I’ve never been unfaithful, ever, and I know she hasn’t been. ”
He looked up at me and I could see the embarrassment and pride in his eyes.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“I know you guys, most people, don’t think she’s hot but a lot of guys like heavier woman. Sounds strange, I know, but, the guy that does our pool walks around without a shirt whenever he’s there in the summer. I came in one time and saw her slap him so hard it must have rattled his teeth. I didn’t walk in and waited a couple of minutes. She told me about it that night. The bastard had come up behind her and started rubbing his dick all over her ass and playing with her tits. He’s 22, and the mailman… I don’t want to go there. He drops by the house for every single piece of mail or advertising junk....to hand deliver it. She humors him, but she told me she’s told him a dozen times that she’s happily married. He never pushes it too far so she’ll complain, but I’ve seen him a few times. He’s into her.”

“We talked about it after the incident with the 22-year-old. I was proud of what she did, but I had to admit I’d worry about a 22-year-old with long hair and a flat stomach hitting on my wife. She took me into the bedroom, sucked me off and screwed me until I couldn’t out of bed. She told me I was the only man who was ever going to get into her, ever!”
He raised his eyes to mine.
“That’s the woman who is going to hear me tell another woman that I’ll be thinking about her while I’m inside my wife. She’s going to hear me say that sex with this woman is better than it ever has been with my wife. I feel like taking a spoon and scbanging my eyes out.”
“She was playing you, Dave. She knows that a guy will saying anything in the middle of hot sex. That was your dick talking, not you.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the words. It doesn’t change what I did. I’ve been trying to avoid Darlene ever since and I know she’s going to get suspicious. But I feel like if I look into her eyes, I’m going to break down and confess and beg her to forgive me. I know she won’t.”
He took his head in his hands.
“What am I going to do, Bill? You’ve got to let him out. I have to hope and pray she’ll destroy this, then all I have to do is figure out a way I can live with it. If you keep him in here, I know she’ll send another copy, or put them on the internet, or put it where I can’t block it and she’ll tell Darlene where to look.”
He looked up at me. I’d never seen such a look of raw desperation.
“I was wrong, I was stupid. Bill, please, please, let him walk. I’ll never ask you for another favor again and I’ll owe you my life. But...do this for me.”
I just sat there and couldn’t believe what I'd heard.
“This doesn’t make sense, Dave. This woman isn’t a secret agent or a mob girl. She’s just a housewife. How does a housewife waltz in, seduce two experienced prosecutors, set up a secret taping, and plan on blackmailing the


State Attorney’s office into giving her what she wants? If she was a man, I’d say she had balls the size of cannonballs. There’s got to be more to this.”
“I’ve tried to call her since Saturday, but I haven’t been able to reach her. I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, I do but I’m like you. How does a normal housewife pull this off, or even plan it? Why did she pick me instead of you, or Matthews or anybody else? How did she know I was the most married guy in this office, at least since you and Debbie split? This wouldn’t have worked with anybody else, or not as well.
“Also, why the hell is she doing this? The guy tried to kill her, we both know that, yet she’s doing all this to set him free? If I tried to write this up in a screenplay and sell it to Hollywood, nobody would believe it.”
The phone rang. Dave obviously thought about blowing it off, but then picked it up.
“What is it, Sally? Who? Put her on. You bitch, what are you trying to do?
Do you have any idea...”
He stopped in mid-sentence and it was like he had been hit between the eyes with a board. He looked at the phone as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, then handed it to me.
“Mr. Maitland, this is Paula Donnally. I believe you’ve already seen my little video and Dave has filled you in on what happened Friday. You’re a smart man so I shouldn’t have to fill in between the lines for you. Are you going to release my husband?”
Her voice was rough, a cross between the croak of a 50-year smoker and a woman who’d been strangled so hard her vocal cords were still stressed, but I understood her.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Donnally. You crossed the line from being a loving, caring, guilty cheating wife to something else altogether. It doesn’t feel like a wife coming to the rescue of her husband. It feels like...something else. I just don’t know what.”
“If I send a courier to stop Mrs. Brandon in the supermarket and give her a copy of an interesting DVD, you know your friend will be sleeping in a strange bed tonight, and his wife will divorce him within a few weeks. I know she loves him and she’ll try to forgive him, but she’ll listen to what he said when he was doing me. In the end, she won’t be able to forgive him. Are you willing to destroy your friend’s marriage, his life, just to keep Paul behind bars a few days longer, because that’s all it will be. No matter what you do, Paul will walk out a free man in just a little while, so when Dave’s marriage is over, it won’t do any good for you to change your mind.”
“I need a number I can call you at. Dave said he’d tried to reach you for three days without any luck. I need to talk to your husband and think about things for a


little while. Then I’ll call you - it’ll be today.”
“He couldn’t reach me because I didn’t want to talk to him. You call the shots there. I wanted to wait for you so, yeah, here’s my cell. Call me, but don’t wait too long.”
I wrote the number down and she clicked off.
“She knew I was in here and she knew I had seen the video. She also knew enough not to go after me, because I can’t be blackmailed any more like this. What the hell have you stepped in, Dave?”
He couldn’t answer me because neither one of us had any idea of what was really going on, but I was going to find out.
 

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 16: REALLY SCARY PEOPLE


I have prosecuted men who beat their wives to death. Men who shook infants until their brains were jelly in their skulls. A woman who stood over her sleeping husband and fired a .38 until she ran out of bullets, re-loaded and emptied her pistol again before calling the security officer.
I have prosecuted three teenagers – two 18-year-old guys and a 16-year-old girl -who took two couples they’d met at a club out into a wooded area, shot the guys, bangd their dates, shot the women, then dumped the bodies in a shallow grave, poured kerosene over them and set the bodies on fire.
I have prosecuted a husband who strangled his wife in her sleep, arranged a gasoline leak, set their house ablaze and managed to barely escape with his life, mourning the loss of his beloved spouse.
I have prosecuted three assholes who robbed a KFC, then walked the two employees on duty into the back, forced them to kneel and forced one to watch the other being shot in the head, then killed the lone witness while she begged for her life.
I prosecuted the Welaka cannibal, who told me he had cut a man’s eye out and left the other eye intact so he could witness the cannibal douse it with hot sauce and pop it in his mouth. Before dissecting the rest of his body carefully so the victim would live as long as possible.
I have seen and heard terrible things that haunt my sleep and my dreams. So why do I have such a bad feeling about a beautiful housewife and Realtor who’s never done anything more terrible than cheat on her husband, and screw two men in an attempt to spring her husband from jail?
OCTOBER 10, 2005 -- MONDAY - NOON
Buzz Holloway was the lieutenant on duty and he met me at the entrance to the jail, then led me through the maze back to the single cell where Paul Donnally was lying on his bunk. Tucker must have bought out a used book store. There were at least 30 paperbacks scattered around his cell. He looked up as I walked in.

“Maitland?”

“Hello, Paul, how are you doing?”

He put down the tattered paperback he had been reading. It was ‘Horseman, Ride By.” This was getting downright spooky. Six Degrees of Separation horseshit. There were too many connections. I decided to ignore it.
“Alright, I guess. I haven’t taken a week off work without Paula in 20 years. We’ve always been together so, it’s been a little strange. On the other hand, I


haven’t had to stare into her lying slut eyes for a week, so that’s the good part. Even the food isn’t too bad. Thank you for letting Gil come in to talk to me.”
“He’s a good friend?” “Better than I deserve.”
“I know the feeling. Look, Paul, we need to talk. I need YOU to talk to ME. To be honest, I get the feeling there are a lot of secrets that you’re holding back.”
“Everybody has secrets.”
“Can you stop for just a minute with that damned Zen crap? Things are happening - things involving your wife and you - things that are screwing up other people’s lives. Things that are hurting people who don’t deserve to be hurt because you and your wife royally screwed up your lives. Can you just for a few minutes talk to me like another human being?”
“What are you talking about?”
He rolled to his feet but didn’t get off the cot.
I looked at Holloway and then glanced around the cell and walkway. There were recording devices and I wasn’t sure he could, even if he wanted to, turn them off.
“I need to speak to him privately. Can you get us someplace where we can talk, without a recording?”
He thought about it for a moment.
Ten minutes later he and another guard had Donnally cuffed behind his back with the cuffs attached to leg manacles. They walked beside us as he shuffled along the walkway to a back elevator and then up to a third floor. They led us to a room with two doors, a microwave, a refrigerator, a table, two chairs and a couch that looked like it folded out.
“This is the staff room,” Holloway said. “Sometimes when things get really hectic, people will sack out or get a nap here. It’s even been known as a place where persons of the opposite sex can. meet.”

“Say no more. So this has NO taping.” “None.”

“I’ll rap on the door when we’re through. Okay?”

When they had left and Donnally was sitting back uncomfortably on the couch, I sat beside him.
“A friend of mine is facing the end of his marriage. He’s going to lose his wife and his kids unless I agree to drop the charges against you and let you walk. But, I’ve seen what you can do. I don’t know what the hell you are, but I know you could be deadly, and you’ve already come within a whisper of killing your wife - strangling her with your bare hands.
“So, if I don’t let you go, I’m going to be responsible for the destruction of a friend’s life. If I let you go, I’m afraid you’re going to go apeshit on me and kill


your wife. Then, I think, you’re going to kill yourself and you will leave two orphans behind. I’ll have to go through the rest of my life seeing the photos of your wife with her eyes popped out and her face blood red from all the ruptured capillaries. I’ve seen photos of people who’ve been strangled - it’s not pretty. I’ll dream about her, and you. I’ve been able to live with my dreams and I’ve seen some ugly things but, I don’t want to live with these new dreams. Please talk to me.”
“You said I’ve got a lot of secrets. You’re right. You have no idea, Maitland.” “Tell me a secret.”
“My grandfather died in an insane asylum, a facility for the criminally insane.”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s not...I don’t believe in that crap about an insanity gene. He had problems with what we’d call anger issues today. He beat two men to death outside a bar one night up in Massachusetts. It was....he had what I’ve got. It’s nothing supernatural. They—the doctors at the facility where I spent some time - called it enhanced tendon strength. A doctor that did some research said that there’s some belief among researchers that it played a part in the legend of the Viking Berzerkers. Rage was one part, but having the strength to rip people apart was another big element. Tendon strength, like anything else, follows a Bell curve. You have people with very weak tendon strength at the bottom, then people like me at the top of the curve. If you have it, you can do some pretty incredible things, but it’s natural, just rare, the doctors tell me.”
“You must wow them at parties. How come Gil didn’t know anything about it? Also your wife didn’t know better than to piss off a guy with that kind of strength?”
He leaned forward and rested his chin on his linked hands, staring down at the floor.
“When I was young, a teenager, I did something, something very bad.”
He was silent for so long I thought he had turned off. Gone back into some world only he could enter.
“I was in therapy for a long time. I’d inherited my grandfather’s tendon strength and his anger. They taught me how to control it, and I did. I pushed it down. I pushed it so far back, back inside me, that it seemed like it went away, except that it never did, of course. It was there, waiting.
“It was there when I met Paula in college. God, I loved her. I kept everything inside, good and bad. She.....she was like a wildfire. Everything was more real, more colorful, more alive, when I was with her.”
He looked up at me.
“You were in love, so you know what it was like except, you weren’t crazy, you didn’t have to hide what you were. I couldn’t....I couldn’t let her  know

what I was.  see what I was. She wouldn’t have loved me, no one could.
“Somehow - somehow she fell in love with who, or what, she thought I was. We married, had children and made a life. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way - Gil told me - some man, a big Hispanic guy, came along and found what she really wanted. He took her away from me without me even knowing.”
He took deep breaths, as if trying to calm himself and the hair on the back of my neck rose, as if I were a kid again facing that big, mean dog by myself.
“So I lived with a woman who didn’t love me anymore; I didn’t know who she was and she didn’t know who I was. Kind of funny, actually, until - I found out. Then, all I wanted was to get away from her. It was the damnedest thing; she didn’t love me, she couldn’t love me, but she wouldn’t leave me alone - she wouldn’t leave me alone!
“She finally cornered me in our house and it came out - I had my hands around her neck before I knew it. It would have been so easy but, we were standing in front of pictures of our children. She was clawing at my hands, my face, but it was like she wasn’t there. They were there. They were looking at me. I couldn’t do it.
“That’s the story, Mr. Maitland. That’s who I am, what I am and why I can’t see Paula again, because I’ll kill her the next time, I know it. You can’t let me out.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

OCTOBER 10, 2005 -- MONDAY - 2 P.M.


“Mrs. Donnally?”
“Mr. Maitland. Did you have a chance to talk to my husband? And what’s your decision?”
“I did, but I’d like to talk to you before I make that decision.”
“What is so difficult about what I’m asking? Paul is about as harmless as any human being that ever walked the earth, except for what happened with me, and I provoked that. I’ll handle it differently next time. As to those stories about the jail, I know my husband, or I thought I did. Even knowing what I know now, he didn’t do what they’re saying. He could just as easily have sprouted wings and flown. I know him, better than anyone else on earth. I’ll never believe what you’re saying about him.”
“No, you don’t, Mrs. Donnally. You think you do know him, but you don’t. I think you’re in for some big surprises down the road, but, why don’t you come up to my office and we’ll talk. Maybe we can work out some kind of compromise.”


“No compromise. I thought Dave Brandon was a friend of yours. I know you’ve been to his house. You know his wife. I know she didn’t have a real active sex life in high college and college before she met Dave. This...knowledge...will devastate her. It’s going to tear her heart out.”
“How the hell do you know all this? Are you with the CIA? Are you some kind of government spook?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a Jacksonville housewife who works part time in real estate office to get out of the house. I’m nobody special. Oh, and you’re running out of time. I could messenger over a million dollars in cash—in 50s and 100s - in an hour. Once that happens, you lose all leverage. He’s out no matter what you say.”
“Assuming you’re telling the truth, I’m happy to hear you say that, because it shows that you do make mistakes. Bail is not automatic; you can bring that $1 million down, but Paul has to accept it and sign for it. He can say, ‘I won’t sign’. Bond is only a way of making sure that someone who wants out, will come back to trial. I can tell you, he won’t walk out.”
This time there was a silence and when she came back on I sensed for the first time that I’d shaken her a little. Whatever she was, she wasn’t infallible.
“I could come down and talk to him. Even though.  ”
I didn’t need to be Dr. Teller to read her. She was frightened - hell, she was terrified - of the man in the cell. The man she’d lived with for 20 years, the man she’d betrayed and, probably, driven crazy, or crazy again. However, as she came back on, I could tell she’d make herself go down there and face him. I still couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on between the two of them.
“They’d let me in the jail, or I could pull enough strings that I could get in there.”
“Trust me when I say that you are the last person he wants to see. If there was ever a chance of his walking, it has to be with you nowhere around. Just come down to my office and talk to me.”
“No, not on your home ground. We need a neutral location. How about Carrabba’s on Atlantic Boulevard? You know it?”

“Yeah, it will take me an hour, maybe two to get there. How about 4:30?” “Fine, I’ll see you there. Mr. Maitland, I’m really looking forward to meeting

you—in the flesh. I’m really curious about you.”

She wasn’t even trying, but there was something about that whispery, bedroom voice and the memories of that body bouncing between Matthews and Brandon, those big tits flying, that made me start to get hard.
“And I’m really, really, curious about you, Mrs. Donnally.”
Shit, if she could have that kind of effect over the telephone line, maybe I should bring along a chaperone.


I sat there in my office looking through the window out at the bright Fall landscape trying to make sense of what had been happening since I’d noticed Donnally’s name on the jail log. If I wasn’t who I was, if I hadn’t done what I’d done for the last 10, almost 11 years, if I hadn’t seen what I’d seen and heard what I’d heard, it never would have occurred to me.
It was such a dark, dark suspicion that it made me hate the decade I’d spent looking into the blackest pits of the human soul. Yet, she had already done some really bad things, if you looked at it one way. Even if you gave her the benefit of the doubt, assumed there was some part of her tucked deep away that still loved Paul Donnally, she’d still been willing to sacrifice an innocent stranger, an innocent family, to get what she wanted. Could loving somebody enough make up for being willing to do ANYTHING for them, screw the rest of the world?
I made two more phone calls to cover my bases and hoped to God I was wrong in what I was suspecting her of doing. Then I went down, got in the Escalade and drove out to Carrabba’s, fighting the afternoon traffic to make it by 4:30 p.m.
She was sitting at a table in a room off the rear of the restaurant. Except for the fact that she was wearing clothes, she looked exactly like the woman I’d seen a few hours ago getting it in her ass and pussy by two men. She looked up at me with an expression that made her appear psychic, like she knew I was seeing her naked and well fucked.
She was beautiful, actually more than beautiful. She made me feel like a dirty-minded 13-year old as I examined her body, dressed in a loose blue green blouse and blue skirt that wasn’t that high cut, but was sexier than any miniskirt I’d ever seen on any woman.
She rose from her chair as I approached her and extended her hand. I took it.
She was as slender and fragile looking as Dave had described her. “Mr. Maitland.”
“Mrs. Donnally.”
I sat down opposite her and we just stared at each other. I wondered if her heart could be as dark as I thought it might be, or if she was only guilty of breaking a clueless man’s heart; wanting to somehow make it all right again if only to preserve the sanctity of past memories.
I looked around and noticed there was nobody sitting in our section. That was not all that unusual because it was still early for the afternoon rush but, still, the only guy sitting within a couple of tables of us was a tall, dark haired guy in a suit. He was facing the entrance and I was looking at him in profile, but I thought I knew him. I began to get a sinking feeling that my suspicions would prove justified.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I noticed a male waiter stick his head out from the entrance to the kitchen and look toward us, but his glance went to the man and I noticed him shake his head and the waiter duck his head back inside the kitchen.

Paula Donnally took a deep breath and I realized she knew what she was doing. She was playing on the knowledge that I had seen her sex tape. A small quasi smile played on lips aching to be bruised.
“We need to talk, Mr. Maitland, but I hope you don’t mind if I take a precaution first.”
She nodded to the man in the suit and he rose to his full six-foot-four height before ambling over to us. I could see the bulge under the right side of his coat and I knew if I looked in his wallet I’d see the star that marked him as a homicide detective.
As he approached us, his hand went into his jacket and came out with a wand-looking electronic device.
“I do mind, Paula.”
I looked up at homicide sergeant Hec Powell and said, “Go away Sergeant.
I’m not going to let you check me for recording devices.”
“You’re not here officially Maitland, and Paula tells me you’re not going to call in the cavalry because you can’t afford any publicity. A lot of my friends still think you’re a dick for what you did to Shawn, so don’t think that being an asshole prosecutor is going to cut any ice with me. Just sit there, shut your mouth and let me check you out.”
I looked from his taut grin to the small smile on Paula’s face and said, “You wanted privacy so you brought in your private muscle to keep this room empty and check me for bugs. You thought I’d go along with this because asshole is tall and carries a gun? Is that the short version?”
“Any trouble, Mr. Maitland, and the first casualty will be your friend’s marriage. Also there are two of us to tell the press that you came here to try to get a taste of what Mr. Brandon and Matthews got at the Hyatt. You’re pretty famous, but I’m pretty hot and a lot of people would be just as happy to tear you down as build you up. Why don’t you let Hec check you out and then we can conduct our business?”

“I don’t think so, Paula.” Powell began, “You damned-“

“I always thought you were a stupid frigging idiot, but I didn’t think you were this stupid.”
Powell looked around to see Sergeant Bob Hastings standing behind him. He was in his patrol uniform, his hand resting casually on the Glock on his hip. Hastings was shorter than Powell, but the Glock seemed very big.


“I always thought you were a stupid prick who thought with his dick and that you only made detective because you pimped for the top brass, but this? You’d risk your whole career going up against Maitland for a piece of ass?”
Powell regained his confidence looking down on Hastings.
“You’re out of your area,” Powell said. “This isn’t the Westside. I’ve got just as much authority here as you do, and if you want to make something out of it, why don’t we step out back and I’ll be happy to kick your ass for sticking your nose in where it has no business being. Let’s just keep it man to man, Hastings. Or are you man enough?”
“Okay, Powell. When, and if, you take Bob, try me on for size.”
I couldn’t help grinning a little bit as Powell swung around again and looked up into the broad, unfriendly features of Narcotics Task Force Lieutenant Bobby Martin. Martin was blonde and 6-6 easily and as broad across as Powell. Moreover, he out-ranked him.
“What the - what are you doing here. You have no business.  ”
“So what’s your business here, Powell? Why are you showing the shield and ordering civilians around and acting like a private gun for this piece of ass? Not that it’s not nice, but you know cops can’t go around doing this. Furthermore, doing it in front of the top prosecutor for this county? If he goes to Knight, you’re going to wind up walking a beat in black town.”
Powell tried to bluster.
“This is none of your damned business, Martin. Go back to chasing crack heads or whatever the hell it is you do.”
“Why don’t we step outside and you say that when you’re not carrying. Unless you want to try and draw on me—and Hastings. Are you that stupid, or is her pussy the best in the world? It better be, because you’re throwing away your career for it. If you’re stupid enough to go for a gun, you’re throwing your life away.”
“It’s okay, Hec. This is not worth you getting in trouble. Go on, get out of here and I’ll call you later.”
The big cop’s glance bounced over each of us, finally settling on Paula’s beautiful face. She smiled at him to take the sting out.
“Come on, baby. Thank you for being here for me, it was worth a try, but I’ll be alright. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I know you could take both of them, but it would cost you your job. Don’t do that.”
“Listen to her, Powell,” Hastings said. There was almost a hint of sympathy in his voice. “Man, I know how they can get into your head, into your blood, but walk away, be smart.”
It looked like he was going to say something more but he stopped himself, gave Paula a little hand wave, turned and walked out. A few nervous waiters


popped out to watch him leave.
“You’re getting to be more trouble than you’re worth,” Martin said to me. “It’s a good thing that I know Howser really liked you. I’m only here because I knew he would have said, ‘back him up’.”
Hastings just looked from Paula to me, shook his head and, with a slight grin, said, “You and those pretty women. I don’t know what you have, but I wouldn’t mind having a little bit of it.”
Then they were gone and Paula Donnally and I were alone, because I noticed none of the waiters came around until I gestured at one and he approached tentatively.
“Bring me coffee and for the lady  ”
“White wine.”
A couple of minutes later I was sipping my coffee while she swirled the golden liquid and then took a swallow. She put the glass down and said, “I shouldn’t have done that, but I learned to be careful. I realized just now that it really didn’t matter. You can tape me, but no jury is going to do anything to me. I’m a heartbroken and guilt-stricken wife who almost destroyed her husband’s life and is doing everything she can to make it right. Any good attorney would get me off.”
“What and who the hell are you, Paula? How do you know the things you do? How did you just walk in and twist two professionals around your little finger and get them to walk away from their professional duties In a couple of hours? How could you come up with a million dollars cash? You’re just a housewife - the wife of a publicist for a small private college.”
She rubbed one bruised lip and placed a hand over mine. It didn’t feel sexual or like a come-on. It was just a small, intimate gesture that made it feel like we were the only two people in the world at that moment.
“I’m very smart, Bill. That’s part of it. Not as smart as I think, sometimes, because I thought I was smarter than you, yet you were ahead of me. They told me I have an IQ of 170 or 180, genius level, whatever that is. I never used it because when you’re a college slut banging everything that moves, you don’t really need to be a genius. When you’re a soccer mom raising two kids it doesn’t matter either, but when I went into real estate, and I started using my brain and my body, I found out there’s no limit to what you can do, how much money you can make.”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She ran her hand gently over mine. Oddly, I still didn’t feel excited.

“You asked me how I could turn two professional attorneys inside out? Because you’re easy, all of you. I have a great body and a great face, and I love sex. I could fuck 18 hours a day if my body would hold up. I like cocks and I like


different cocks. I like having men come inside me, on me, in my mouth and my ass.
“You’re looking at me like I’m crazy, but listen close Bill, because I’m going to tell you a secret that smart women don’t want you to know, and many women never realize.
“We run the world. You guys are horny puppy dogs and we drag you around by your dicks. You don’t pick up women, you get picked up. You don’t get lucky, some woman decides she wants to fuck you. You don’t decide to marry someone, one of us picks you and lets you think you won us.
“We know who your children really belong to. We make you think you’re great lovers, or flops in bed. Because none of you can match us, the ones who know what we’re doing, in bed. I could bang the biggest stud in the world into a pool of sperm on the floor and keep going.
“You’re limited by your poor, fragile dicks. Don’t get me wrong, women love them. Other than giving us children, it’s the main reason we keep you around. They’re wonderful toys to play with, but they’re limited. That’s why we need to bring in new ones all the time.”
She smiled at me.
“You look so shocked, Bill, but you didn’t pick Debbie Bascomb. She picked you and she let you win her heart. She kept you well fucked and happy until you left her alone in your marriage and she traded you in for a different dick.
“Now most women, a lot of women, tamp down their natural desires because they know no man could keep up with them if they let loose, but I was set free. I learned how to use my body and my sex drive. I’ve made millions using my body and my brain. If you offer a man a chance to make money and screw his brains out, very few men will turn down that deal.
“A lot of men would call me a whore, but who cares? I love having sex and I love making money by having sex. I’ve built a financial empire and my clueless, loving husband never had the first idea of what I was doing. I use investigators in my business dealings and, when this happened, I looked for the best person in the State Attorney’s Office to pressure to release Paul.
“I investigated you. I knew I had to get to you, but I didn’t think the normal methods would work with you. I wasn’t sure I could seduce you. Even if I had, I knew you’d never bow to blackmail, but you’re loyal. That’s your Achilles heel. I found the best man to seduce and your loyalty to him will get Paul out of jail.”
“So you’re very smart, very sexy, wealthy and you’ve been cheating on your husband for a long time. I get that, but why would anybody that smart take a chance on getting arrested and charged with at least two or three counts including extortion, blackmail and attempting to interfere with a criminal investigation? You say you want to be free of him yet none of this makes sense.


That’s why—at least one of the reasons—why I’ve been dragging my feet. You’re saying one thing and doing the exact opposite - that makes me suspicious as hell.”
“Everything has to make sense to you? Everything has to add up?” “Yeah.”
“I’m not a good person, Bill. I don’t see myself as bad, but I know most people would see me that way. I married a man, promised to be faithful, had his children and, something happened and I threw that promise away - I threw him away! I‘ve had sex with hundreds of men. I’ve come to his bed and I’ve always been careful about being clean, but I’ve kissed him while I could still taste another man’s cum on my tongue. I’ve kissed him and told him I loved him and felt him pumping inside me and in my head I was three thousand miles away enjoying another man’s cock.
“I stopped loving him because, honestly, he’s not much of a man. He’s sweet, he loves me and takes care of me - but he’s a wimp. A sweet, lovable, wonderful wimp. He’s not a man, not the kind of man I need. He’s like a pool that’s an inch deep, pretty on the surface, but there’s no bottom, no depth. He’s boring as hell to be honest.”
She motioned to the waiter lurking just inside the kitchen area and he brought her another goblet of wine.
“I stayed with him because of our children and because he was - comfortable, convenient. There are times when it’s better to be a cheating wife who has to go home to a husband and has obligations she can’t get out of than to be free. I suppose there’s a part of me that still has feelings for him. Feelings, I don’t know, like you’d have for a dog you’ve raised since it was a puppy and now it’s old, has cataracts and can’t move around because of arthritis, but you can’t put him down just because he’s got old.”
She stared into the depths of her wine glass.
“I don’t even need to see your face, Bill, to know what you’re thinking. I said I was a bad person. I’m what I am. But, I knew it was going to end, if not before, then when the kids finally finished college and were gone to their own lives. I was going to stick it out...until he found out, just one of those weird things. I worried about everything else, I was so damned careful - still he found out.
“He avoided me for nearly a month. It was so crazy. I’d been running around hiding from him for years, and now I couldn’t find him, to talk to him, then finally I found him at home. I just wanted to talk to him and - no warning - he put his hands around my neck. I thought, somehow, that he was joking. Paul would never hurt me. I figured he’d cry and I’d feel like shit, but I was never afraid of him.


“I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so bad. Things started getting dark and I couldn’t talk. For the first time I realized I was going to die there, it was all going to end. I thought this couldn’t be happening, I was asleep and dreaming. It was a nightmare, because I was looking into his eyes and it wasn’t Paul...
“I must have passed out. I woke up lying on the floor, gasping for air. He just looked at me but didn’t say anything. I knew, I knew somehow he was going to kneel down beside me and put those hands around my throat and finish the job. I tried to crawl but I was too weak. I wet myself - I was never so frightened in my life. I’ve always been in control around men. I’ve never been frightened of a man, but I wanted to beg for my life, yet I couldn’t make a sound, and he just kept looking at me. Then he turned around and walked out.
“Somehow I dragged myself to the front door, locked it and put the chain on it. Then I dragged myself, half crawled to our bedroom and locked the door. I moved a dresser, God knows how, in front of the door to block it. I tried to call for help could only get out whispers.
“Hec was the first guy I actually could talk to and he was over in a half hour. He stayed with me after he put out a report on what had happened and I’d signed a warrant for Paul’s arrest. He spent the night with me, two nights, after I got back from the hospital. We didn’t do anything, I just couldn’t stand being alone. Every sound was Paul breaking back in.”
She looked back up into my eyes.
“I wanted nothing more than to see Paul behind bars for the rest of my life right then but, after awhile, a few days, I had to call our kids. They couldn’t believe it - I could tell how hurt they were and I - it wasn’t Paul trying to kill me. It was somebody or something else. I didn’t realize how badly I’d hurt him when he found out. He went crazy, that’s all it was. Paul wouldn’t have hurt me if he was in his right mind.”
“I hate to tell you this but I think he’s still crazy. I think he needs to be committed somewhere, for his safety and yours.”
She shook her head.
“I can protect myself now. I can hire bodyguards, or friends like Hec will make sure he doesn’t hurt me again.”
“Why take the risk? You said you love him like an old family pet. You were going to leave him anyway.”
“I was. We don’t have a marriage anymore, haven’t for a long time, but he didn’t leave me, I left him. He hasn’t done anything except be the same faithful, loving, dull and boring husband he’s always been. I could see breaking his heart. He’s young enough that I think he’ll be able to put himself back together. He’s got friends and he’s got a secretary...anyway he won’t be alone.”
She held my eyes again.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

“I said I was a bad person. I’ve cheated and lied on him, planned on dumping him and loved other men more than him. I’d make him miserable for a few months or a few years until he finds someone else, and he may never, but I’m not going to send him to prison. I’m not going to destroy his career so he can never rebuild his life. I’m not going to watch his life turn into hell and see him lose the respect of our children. I’m a bad person, but I’m not that bad.”

She stared into my eyes. I stared into hers. It should have been a warm, fuzzy, human moment.
“That is touching,” I finally said. She didn’t say anything.
“A woman cheats on her husband, falls out of love with him, builds a second life that he has no part in, and she’s planning to dump him as soon as the kids are gone for good. Yet there is still that ember of deep love and affection that will not die, therefore she will risk jail and punishment so as not to completely destroy his life. That is downright touching.”
“Nothing is that simple, but I guess that sums it up correctly. Debbie treated you pretty roughly, but I guess from what happened at the FOP building the night you were shot, there’s still something in her that has feelings for you. So it’s not impossible.”
“I could say that she isn’t as big a slut and whore as you are, not in the same ballpark, but there’s no point in insulting you, because you may be telling the truth.”
She gave me a questioning look. “May be? You don’t believe me?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I want to. It’s a compelling story. The romantic in me wants to believe in it. But, if you’re telling me the truth, or most of it, you are a very smart woman who’s used to playing men, using men for fun and profit. You’re used to being in control. You didn’t have much, if any, respect for your husband until the day he almost killed you. I tend to believe you about that day, because it matches what the first cops on the scene reported. I think your husband scared you to death that day. I think you really believed you were going to die, and that would shake anybody. Things were out of your control and they still are. Paul is still alive and he may get out. When he gets out, he’ll be lurking somewhere. I think a woman used to controlling things would have a hard time living with that uncertainty.”
She looked at me and she really looked like she didn’t know where I was going, but she was a hell of a good actress.
“You could get to him in jail, of course, except I think he would be very hard to kill. I don’t think you could simply hire your usual suspects and be confident


they could actually take him out. Anyway, that leaves a trail and people that could talk and I think you’re too smart to leave yourself vulnerable that way.”
She bit her lip.
“But, if you get him out, the next time you find him - for closure - you could have somebody like Hec with you. No matter how dangerous Paul is, he’s not bullet proof. After he was dead you’ve have a witness that he had attacked you again, and probably have a cop as a witness, which would make it even better.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. She raised her eyes to meet mine.
“Then you’d never need to worry about him again - no more nightmares about his hands around your throat. You could tearfully tell your children that their father went crazy and you were just lucky to have a friend around, with a gun.”
She pulled her hand away.
“It must be terrible to live in your world, Mr. Maitland.” “It’s the real word, Mrs. Donnally.”
“Is there anything I can say, anything I can do, to convince you that the first story is the true one. I’m a bad wife, but I’m not a monster.”
“No, the trouble is, you’re too good an actress and you’re too smart.” She just shook her head.
“Impasse. You don’t know what I’m going to do or why I’ve done what I’ve done but, Paul is still going to get out, or your friend is going to lose his wife and marriage, and I will get him out. No matter how good you are, I’ve got enough money to buy his freedom. If necessary, I will sleep with everybody from the chief judge on down to the cleaning crews to give him his freedom.”
I leaned back and motioned to the waiter hiding just around the corner. After he poured another cup of strong coffee and left, I sipped it. It was hot enough to burn the roof of my mouth. Just the way I liked it.
“I’m going to let him out, if I can talk him into leaving. He may not go. I’ll do my best but, in case my suspicions are justified, and Paul winds up shot to death in the near future, or just dies in an accident, I’m coming after you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to him, Mr. Maitland, not because of me.”
“All that Angel of Death stuff is crap and you know it but, people with more money than you have wound up on death row at Raiford because they underestimated me.”
I took another sip. The hot liquid felt good going down because even though it was still a warm Jacksonville October, I felt cold.
“I could just have you killed, Paula. I could do it with one phone call. But it would cost me more than I’m willing to pay. If, however, I wind up with cancer in a few years and my time is short, I think I would make that phone call. Or, if I have an accident, I’ll set it up so the same thing happens. So if you do it and get


away with it, you’d better pray that I stay healthy. Odds are I’ll just wait and watch you. I know who you are now, and what you are. You can’t go invisible or completely under the radar. Just go ahead and live your life knowing that I’m behind you somewhere, just waiting for you to make a mistake and everybody, no matter how smart they are, makes a mistake sooner or later.
“I won’t forget and I won’t get tired of watching you, because if you’re doing what I suspect, you’re using me as a Judas goat, a tool to kill your husband. His blood will be on my hands, because I let concern for a friend push him out to where you could get to him. I don’t want to have that on my conscience.”
I put the coffee cup down and stood up.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Donnally. I hope I don’t see you again.” “Mr. Maitland...Bill...”
I was about to turn away from her but that whiskey/smoker voice stopped me.
She stood up and it was nice to be looking down at a woman for a change in my life. Her heavy breasts moved under her blouse as she rose and I couldn’t help remembering the way they had bounced as she rode Dave.
“I’m not the person you think I am, Bill, and I’m not planning what you think I am. I know you don’t believe me, but time will tell. Nothing is going to happen to Paul.”
She looked down at my midsection and I realized that I had an erection so hard it was actually painful poking out against my zipper.
“You probably should do something about that erection before you walk out, Bill. It’s kind of conspicuous. I’m flattered. Even though you won’t admit it, because you won’t admit you could be attracted to the kind of woman you think I am, you want me.”
“It’s a purely physical reaction, Mrs. Donnally. I saw you fucking Dave and Matthews. I saw those breasts bouncing. I like breasts. It doesn’t mean anything more.”
“Oh, I think it does.”
She walked around the table and was close enough to me that the hard nipples that had to be an inch or longer poking out through the thin fabric of her blouse brushed my chest. She reached out with one finger and ran it along my lower lip. I had a very different feeling from the time that Myra had done almost the same thing, but it made me even harder.
“You are one of the good guys, Bill. Everything I got on you told me you were the real deal, an honest, honorable man who tries to do the right thing. You were faithful to your wife, tried to be a good father, a good tough prosecutor. You follow the rules. But...”

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She smiled and her lips with some kind of purple-ish gloss or lipstick resembled bruised fruit. I suddenly knew how Dave could have fallen so fast.

“Every saint has a dark side, Bill. You can’t be that good, without having darkness to counter balance it. Your father died on you. He left you, for others. You loved him, but he deserted you. A little boy isn’t going to understand the complexities of duty and honor. All you knew was that he walked out on you and your mother.
“And Debbie was a slut who screwed other men before and while she was falling for you and then, finally, left you for another guy with a bigger dick than you. That had to hurt. She was gorgeous, and you were just an ordinary guy. You loved your children, as best you could. When it came down to it, they took their mother’s side against you. How did that make you feel. Not on the outside where you had to pretend to understand, but inside?
“After you are dumped and hurt by Debbie, you find another woman you think you love and she leaves to go back to her husband. Naturally, he’s taller and better looking than you and he’s cheated on her and hurt her, and yet she goes back to him instead of staying with the man that loves her.
“Why can’t you hold a woman, Bill? You’re thinner now, and you shaved off your hair for a new look, but underneath it, you’re still that middle-aged romantic loser that can’t hold a woman with his love, or his dick.”
She had cut my heart out with a few quick slashes, exposed every fear, every hurt that I had hidden where no one could see, I thought. I knew there were tears in my eyes, but I managed to smile at her.
“You’re good, and your investigators are better. That’s a lot of dirt to uncover in a few days. But, you know, Mrs. Donnally, despite the hard on you’ve given me, and despite you’re being so damned hot, I wouldn’t stick my dick in your diseased cunt if it was on fire and the only water in the world was between your legs.”
She smiled back.
“I hurt you, I know, but there’s a whole world of pain inside you, and there’s a part of you that wants to hurt back. I told you I wasn’t going to kill Paul and you’ll see that I’m right. When you do, I want you to remember this.”
She reached down and because my back was to the kitchen I didn’t think anyone could see what she was doing. She ran her fingers around and up and down my cock. It felt like the spidery touch of silk.
“You’re a good guy and I’m a very bad girl. Deep, deep down, you want me and I want you just that bad. I like control, but there’s a part of me that’s submissive at the same time. I will ALWAYS be available. I’m going to call your cell and leave a number that will always get through to me. Wherever I am,


whatever I’m doing...you can call me, and you can fuck me, and whip me, and hit me if you want. You can let that anger out...that hurt.
“Treat me the way you could never treat that miserable bitch Debbie, and I’ll take it. You can fuck me in the ass and make me suck you clean. You can tie me down. You can piss on me. You can do ANYTHING to me, and I’ll come back for more.”
Shit. I stood there and tried not to tremble as I came and came and squirted into my underwear. She looked down and smiled a little smile of triumph.
“You tell yourself you’re never going to call and maybe you won’t, Bill, but forever is a long time, and I think you will call me one day. I’ll be waiting.”
I made myself turn around, walk out of the restaurant and get into my car and start for the jail. I could have tried to clean up the still-liquid cum inside my underwear, but I let it stay. It’d dry. I just thought about the woman I’d walked away from. I had thought that Paul Donnally was about as scary a person as I’d ever run into.
But his wife was - I didn’t even have the words. I just tried to convince myself that when I found her message on my cell, I’d immediately delete it without looking at the number she’d leave. I would. I would.
OCTOBER 10, 2005 -- MONDAY - 6 P.M.
I sat down in a chair across from Paul Donnally’s cell. Red Butler was officially off duty but I’d asked him as a favor to hang around and he’d escorted me back to Donnally’s cell. Donnally was sitting on his cot, waiting for me.
“They told me the judge had dropped the million dollar bail and the charges have been dropped?”
“Yes to the bond. The original charges have been dropped and replaced by a simple assault. There’s a $5,000 bond, but it’s on your own recognizance so all you have to do is sign and walk out. I’ve already committed to cover for you, if you do skip the country and don’t come back. Whether you walk is up to you.”
“Why, Maitland? I told you why I wanted to stay in here. Despite everything, I don’t want to kill her and I can’t stand the thought of my kids’ lives after we’re both gone. How do you put your life back together after your father murders your mother and then takes his own life? They’d be scarred for life.”
I stood up and walked over to the cell bars. I motioned to Butler and he walked away. But there were still microphones recording.
“Letting you out is up to the discretion of my office. I’ve heard your story, and her story, and I don’t believe you should be behind bars. More than that...in my position you have to weigh things. I have to weigh keeping you in here to keep you from possibly hurting your wife against the prospect of bad things happening to other people if I keep you in here against my better judgment.


“This doesn’t just involve you and her. There are other people’s lives, and those lives can be damaged or destroyed if you remain behind bars on what I think is an unjustified charge of attempted murder.”
“Do I read you correctly, Maitland, that you want me to sign those papers and walk out the door of the jail? You think that would be the best thing for everybody?”
“Yes. I honestly do. I believe that you will find friends that will help you get your feet under you. I think you can walk back into your job because my office will make it clear that you face no formal charges and there will be no record of the arrest, other than you got into a domestic disturbance with your wife and security officer were called. The institution could dismiss you, but since the charges are being dropped and you will have no criminal record, I don’t see why you can’t walk back in.”
“But you, personally, want me to walk out of here?”
“I’m making a professional judgment, but, yes, I personally would feel guilty about keeping an innocent man behind bars.”
He rubbed his chin.
“You know what could happen?”
“I’m more aware of the possibilities than you are but I don’t think that hiding in here is going to make anything better.”
He got up and started collecting the paperbacks into a carrying bag that Tucker must have used to bring them into the cell. When he’d gotten them all and collected a toothbrush and some toiletries, he nodded at me.
Red Butler and I walked him to the desk where he received his personal effects, signed the bond papers and gave them to a woman representing the bonding agency which had its offices only two blocks away. I walked with him out to the back of the jail.
Gil Tucker lounged against the side of a black SUV in the parking lot a hundred yards away. He just looked at us standing on the raised bay that led to the entrance to the jail.
“You’re giving in to her blackmail?”
“I had to make a decision and I didn’t see any way around it. There are too many people—a husband and father and children - that would hurt badly if you didn’t walk out of here.”
“And you gave in to her? That doesn’t sound like the Maitland I’ve heard about.”
“If I knew—for a certainty—that you were going to kill her, or that she was going to have you killed, no I wouldn’t be doing this, not even to save a friend. However, I’m not God and I can’t be sure what’s going to happen.”


I looked up into his dark eyes and I didn’t see the shadow that had passed behind them in Doug Baker’s office, or in the jail for a second.
“You don’t know what you’re letting loose, Maitland. You don’t know what I am. I am going to try to stay away from her, but I don’t know that I can keep her away from me. I’ve found out a few things this last month. She has a lot more money and a lot more power than I ever dreamed of. She’s not the woman I’ve lived with for 20 years. I think she will come after me, God only knows why, and when I face her again. ”
“Paul, I don’t know you. You and your wife, to be honest, are the strangest and scariest people I’ve run into—ever. But I know this. You’ve been a good, law abiding citizen for at least 20 years. You’ve raised two children. You’ve got friends who care for you. You were willing to give up your freedom to save your wife’s life.
“I don’t know what you did when you were a kid. I don’t know how bad it was, or how bad you were, but I know the Paul Donnally I’m looking at today. I’m looking at a man who was willing to sacrifice himself for his cheating wife and his children. I’m looking at a man with a friend willing to go to the wall for him. I don’t think a monster would do those things, or have a friend like Gil Tucker.”
I pointed to Tucker.
“Go with him and try to get your head straight. Get some professional help. Maybe you did get it years ago, but you obviously need some more help today. If you want, I’ve got a good man that probably could help. Call my office and I’ll give you his name and if I call him I think he’ll see you.
“Oh...and be careful. If you wind up meeting with her  make sure you have a
friend along. And make sure she knows you won’t meet her alone.” He just stared at me and then shook his head.

“No, even now, I won’t believe that. No matter how much she’s changed, she wouldn’t do that.”

I extended my hand and after a moment, he shook it. His handshake felt like a normal handshake.

“Good luck, Paul.”

He was walking toward Gil Tucker when I said, “You remember what you told me that day—in Baker’s office?”

He had looked back at me curiously.

“We always have a choice. You have a choice. I hope you make the right one.”

He nodded and I saw Tucker give him a bear hug and then wave at me.

They were gone and I prayed with everything in me that I never saw or heard the name Paul Donnally again. I wanted to pray the same thing about Paula

Donnally, but I couldn’t deny mixed feelings there.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

CHAPTER 17: WAITING FOR THE TSUNAMI


The day my father died was an ordinary Winter day. Nothing unusual I can remember through the mists of 34 years.
The day I walked into a storage room in the back of a house on Fraternity Row in Gainesville and found Debbie Bascomb being bangd started out with my oversleeping and scrambling to make it to a class. I was late. It was just another day.
The day Debbie told me we’d had some wonderful times “when we married” started with me worrying about a juror who’d developed sudden cold feet about the Nigel Thompson scumbag drug dealer child murder case. It was just another day.
The big days never come with a warning or an announcement. You only realize what they are afterward, when it’s too late.
OCTOBER 14, 2005 – FRIDAY - 7 P.M.
My name is William Maitland. I am the official second in command and unofficial lead prosecutor for the tri-county area of Duval, Clay and Nassau Counties in Northeast Florida. I prosecute bad people and try to clean up the messes they make in their own and other people’s lives.
For the past six months I’ve thought the mess I’ve made of my own life, over the past decade since becoming a prosecutor, was beyond redemption.
On the plus side I’ve escaped death, found out that casual sex doesn’t have to be meaningless sex, and that there really is a life beyond divorce. That last is a hard lesson that I’ve paid dearly to learn, but I’m beginning to believe there really are Second Acts in our lives.
I’ve looked into the heart of some terrible darknesses, not least of which is inside me. It’s getting harder to believe that I’m as moral and incorruptible as I once thought I was, but I tell myself that I am trying.
Right now, I am shivering a little as I walk out of the courthouse headed toward my Escalade parked down the street.
The weather in Jacksonville had swerved from unseasonably hot to chilly in the space of a week, as it was wont to do, and the temperature was already in the 50s and looking to fall into the 40s by the time it got dark. Alright, not that bad if you were a Yankee, but for an almost life-long Florida boy, it was chilly.
I had prepared, wearing a nice black turtleneck sweater over black slacks, dress black shoes, and the rest of the outfit that Dallas insisted I wear most of the time to keep the image up. I’d brought an electric razor to work with me and shaved just before I left. I reeked of cologne and didn’t think I needed a shower too badly.


I’d considered running by the condo for a quick shower, but I had a 7:30 p.m. date with Myra. While I knew she was a nice lady, I wasn’t sure how many more times I could stand her up without her getting a little peeved at me.
I should have left earlier, but there were always last minute critical things that needed doing. I was still trying to postpone Sutton’s murder one trial until Wilbur Bell slowly recovered in the hospital from a heart attack that, by all accounts, should have taken him out. Luckily he was a tough old bird and I wanted him to be able to walk into the courtroom for Sutton’s trial and testify that he had seen Sutton driving out of his mother’s Ocala home on the night that Sutton’s wife and unborn son had been murdered.
I had videotaped his testimony, but live testimony always trumped tape.
On another potential major case for me, the whole office was watching at long range the maneuvering to put the Mexican cartel warlord on trial. Nobody else had died lately, but there was an anticipation like the silence before a thunderstorm breaks. No one knew yet where the trial was headed as the feds deliberately kept their plans a deep dark secret.
On the distant horizon I watched the legal maneuvering to see where the trial of New York financial whiz kid Bobby Kelso would wind up, out of the glare of the New York City media world. It would be one of the biggest court events in years, wherever it ended up.
How often did you have a hotshot Wall Street financial whiz kid arrange for mob hits on his wife and her lover, only to change his mind at the last minute and save both their lives, while taking a bullet meant for her lover. However, a mob gunman had died after Kelso’s crisis of conscience, so the Money Man was being tried for Murder One because his plot had led to a man’s death during the commission of a crime. It was so perfect a media story with sex, love, big money, murder and the mob all mixed together. Television execs were probably having orgasms just thinking of the ratings they’d get covering his trial.
If it came to me I couldn’t even imagine how heavily the media would cover it - I’d probably have to live in the courthouse until the trial was over, but I really hoped that trial didn’t come to me. Although I was honestly worried about the cartel trial, I would have no problem sending a drug thug to his death. I would, however, have really serious misgivings about sending a man, whose wife had driven him over the edge and who yet had made the right choice in the end, to death row or lifetime imprisonment. Yes, I saw myself in him! I hadn’t tried to kill Debbie or Doug, but if things had gone differently...who knows?
I waited every day to hear a report of Paul Donnally’s body being discovered, or Paul and Paula being found somewhere in a murder/suicide. I didn’t know how I’d live with that if it turned out I’d made a very bad decision. So far, so good. They had both vanished back into comfortable anonymity, although I’d


called Gil Tucker one time and he said that Donnally was making it, day by day. He had never called Dr. Teller, but I held out hope that eventually he would.
As I slid into the Escalade I made a conscious effort to push all that out of my mind. In thirty minutes I’d, for the very first time, be walking up to Myra’s condo door and see what she looked like away from the courthouse. I still, even now, couldn’t see exactly what she saw in me. Strip away the fame from a devastated daughter’s throw-away remark after her father’s death and a reporter’s story that caught fire, and I was just another 42-year-old short, bald, divorced guy.
Whatever ‘it’ was, I was glad she saw it. Maybe if something – eventually – developed, she’d explain it to me. I was thinking of breasts, that smile and those green eyes when I heard the sudden wail of a security officer siren. I glanced in my rear view mirror to see flashing blue lights. What the hell! I looked at my speedometer and saw I was doing 60 in a 55 mph zone on I-295. There was no way that God could throw another road block in the path of my eventually meeting Myra somewhere away from both our courthouse identities.
I pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the motor running. Sometimes showing the State Attorney ID helped, not always but sometimes. The Jax deputy had barely stopped when he was out of the cruiser and striding quickly toward me. I started to get curious - this deputy wasn’t acting like a man making a traffic stop.
“Mr. Maitland?” “Yes?”
“Chief Martin says would you please – let me quote him – get your head out of your ass and turn your cell on.”
Someone up there hated me. I never turned my cell off, but this one time, one time in all the years I had worked for the State Attorney’s Office, I did. I figured one night off would not cause the world to stop turning, and the one time I try to get a little privacy, they send a cop out with flashers and sirens wailing to hunt me down. There was no justice.
I pulled it out of my pocket and punched the power button. As soon as the screen came to life the Cranberries’ “Linger” rang out and I hit the talk button.

“Maitland.”

“Martin, to what do I owe the pleasure? You realize that I left word with the office that Brandon was taking my calls tonight. I’m flattered that you guys can’t live without me, but unless the world is ending, I really am off the clock.”
“Did you hear about the murder this morning?”
“Which one? I know there was the guy that died in that drive-by over on Jammes and a guy’s body was found way off San Jose. Pretty busy day, but...”