Above the Fold & Below the Belt (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 14)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Eliot snorted. “You’re going to fume about this all day, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea. Lucky for you I’ll just be getting over it by the time family dinner rolls around tonight. Don’t forget.”

  “Have I ever forgotten?” Eliot was morose. “I’ll be there. I’m a creature of habit, too ... even if the habit is a bad one.”

  “I want to go to one of these family dinners one day,” Lauren said. “They sound fascinating.”

  “Then we’re telling it wrong,” I said. “They’re not fascinating. They’re painful. There are dire consequences for not going, though, and I can’t take another stare-off with my mother. She won the last one after not blinking for an hour. I can’t lose twice in a row.”

  “Yes, that’s the most important thing,” Eliot muttered.

  “It is. That’s why I need my strength. Someone find the waitress. I have a full day before all that happens.”

  MY PLAN WAS TO SIT in court and listen to testimony for the morning session. I figured it couldn’t hurt because I seemed to be at a crossroads ... and that it would allow me to watch Savage for hints of his true nature. He was still an enigma, although a clearer picture was forming in my head – and it wasn’t attractive.

  “What are you doing here?” James asked, pulling up short when he entered the courtroom and found me sitting in the gallery.

  “The same thing you are,” I replied, without hesitation. “Now, sit down and shut up.”

  He balked. “No way. This is my story. You’ve already inserted yourself in a situation in which you don’t belong. This — all of this, including the shooting and protest — should’ve been mine. You’re Fish’s pet, though, so you get whatever you want.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Listen, I’m hungover.” I saw no reason to lie. “That means I have a shorter fuse than normal. I am not in the mood to put up with your crap.”

  “I’ll call Fish.”

  Ah, the threat of tattletales the world over. “Go nuts.”

  “I will.” James turned shrill. “I’ll call him and get you yanked from this story.”

  We both knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was just posturing now. He was talking so loudly that he actually drew attention from Savage’s defense team. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the back of my teeth, waved at the defendant and proceeded to tune out James.

  Eventually he realized I wasn’t listening to a word he said and he threw himself on the bench next to me. “I hate you sometimes,” he grumbled.

  “You should join my fan club.”

  “I said I hate you, not love you.”

  “My fan club is for haters. I love them. They keep me motivated.”

  “Really?” He seemed intrigued. “Who’s in it?”

  “Pretty much half the people I’ve ever met. Tad Ludington is president.”

  “I’ll contact him for membership.”

  I eyed him a moment, briefly wondering if he realized the fan club wasn’t real. Ultimately I decided that wasn’t my problem and he would figure things out on his own.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked, eyeing Savage’s legal team. They didn’t look particularly worried, but I could feel an air of tension wafting off them.

  “One of the secretaries accusing Bart of rape is on the stand. It’s supposed to be stimulating testimony.”

  I was fairly certain James’s idea of “stimulating” and mine didn’t sync up. Still, I let it go. “That sounds interesting.”

  “Just remember that the court case is my story.”

  “How could I possibly forget?”

  James narrowed his eyes. “I’m on to you. I know your reputation. I won’t allow you to steal my story.”

  As of right now, I had no interest in that. Down the road was a different story. “Do what you gotta do. I’ll do what I’ve gotta do. We’ll see where we end up.”

  “I’m going to win.”

  Now I smiled. “Won’t that be interesting to watch?”

  HANNAH BOLTON TOOK THE STAND. She was young — mid-twenties if I had to guess — and looked unnaturally pale in her pastel suit as she slowly climbed into the witness box, her long blond hair pulled back in a bun as she nervously eyed the spectators packed into the courtroom.

  The bailiff swore her in, and then it was off to the races. Morgan, still pretending he was an active prosecutor, kicked off the questioning.

  “Good morning.”

  Bolton’s murmured greeting was unintelligible.

  “You’ll have to speak up,” Morgan prodded. “We need to be able to hear you. You understand, don’t you?”

  Bolton nervously cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice squeaky.

  “Great.” Morgan beamed at her in that creepy way law enforcement whips out whenever something bad is about to happen. Whether he realized he looked deranged or not, I couldn’t say. He was a total freak, though. “Ms. Bolton, can you tell me when you started working for the defendant?”

  Nerves running amok, Bolton rubbed her hands over her knees as she forced herself to focus. “Technically I didn’t start out working for Mr. Savage,” she replied. “I was an intern for the radio station.”

  “I see.” He silently prodded her to continue.

  “My job was to answer phones,” she volunteered. “We have a lot of call-in shows and I was shuffled between various radio personalities. I also learned how to handle the call board and some of the drops while I was doing the job, so I was grateful for it.”

  “Because your ultimate goal was to be a radio personality, correct?”

  Bolton nodded. “Yes. That’s what I wanted.”

  “In that case it must have been a big deal for you to meet the defendant.”

  “There were whispers that first day,” Bolton admitted. “I didn’t know he was going to be there until right before he showed up.”

  “I would think that, since he was such a big star, Mr. Savage would come in every day,” Morgan countered.

  “He has a private studio on the back of the property,” Bolton explained. “He usually records there. It’s supposed to be space the station rents to various people — like in case people have to testify via closed circuit between states — but Mr. Savage essentially took over the space because he likes to spread out. Er, at least that’s what they told me that first week.”

  Morgan nodded in understanding. “Please continue.”

  “I hadn’t met him yet,” Bolton said. “He came in with a bunch of people — like ten of them — and the other girls said that was normal because he was so popular. He went through the building and talked to everyone he recognized. I remember I was holding my breath when he got to me.”

  “And what happened when he got to you?”

  “He seemed ... interested,” Bolton replied, wringing her hands. “He spent a lot of time talking to me, asking about my background. He teased me about working so hard I wouldn’t be able to give a boyfriend much time. It was ... weird.”

  “Did you think it was weird at the time or merely in hindsight?”

  “In hindsight. I was too nervous during the first meeting to think anything but ‘Omigod, that’s Bart Savage.’”

  Morgan smiled indulgently. “It sounds like a memorable first meeting.”

  “Oh, it was.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “Nothing for a few days,” Bolton replied. “I went back to work. He went back to recording in the satellite building. I’d pretty much pushed it out of my mind ... and then I got an email.”

  “Who from?”

  “Mr. Savage.”

  “And what did the email say?”

  “That he wanted to offer me a job. It said he’d been asking around about my work and he thought I would be a good fit for his team.”

  “Were you excited?”

  Bolton nodded without hesitation. “I thought it was a great place for me to start. I mean ... he’s well known in Michigan. He’s starting to build a national pl
atform. While I don’t agree with his politics, the opportunity was definitely there. I would’ve been stupid to pass it up.”

  I spared a glance for Savage, who made a face and whispered something to his counsel at mention of his politics.

  “Did anyone warn you about going to work for Mr. Savage?” Morgan asked.

  She nodded. “As a matter of fact, one of the older call screeners — Madeline Brewer — said that I should watch myself. She said that Mr. Savage only invited me to work for him because he thought I was hot and wanted to have sex with me. There was another woman, too. She was a temp there and was just filling in because her husband worked for the company. She said he was aggressive and warned me away.”

  “And how did you respond?”

  “Not well,” Bolton replied. “I should’ve listened to her. Had I listened, none of this would’ve happened. I didn’t listen to her ... and things went off the rails. My life will never be the same again. She tried to warn me and I tuned her out because I thought I knew better. I regret it.”

  “What happened?” Morgan prodded gently. “Tell the court how it went down.”

  “It happened the second day after I moved to the satellite location,” Bolton replied, her voice cracking. “The first day was one of those ‘getting to know you’ things. I met everyone. I learned about the equipment — which was the same equipment I used in the main building — and I watched the production of the show.

  “They allowed me to run some of the transitions and accept calls because I was supposed to prove I was capable in front of their team,” she continued. “It went fairly smoothly. I only screwed up once and caught it right away. They were impressed.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Good. It always feels good to get solid feedback on work you provide.”

  “Very true.” Morgan’s smile was indulgent ... and a little bit creepy. I doubted he realized that, though. “What happened the second day you were at the satellite location?”

  “It started out like a normal day,” Bolton replied. “I’d been informed that two other women worked in the building, but we switched off duties. At that particular time I was the main phone screener. I was fine with that. I found the job fascinating.

  “The other two women had various other jobs, like booking guests and handling advertising,” she continued. “There was also a security staff. I made the mistake of assuming they were inside the building the whole day, but that wasn’t the case. They disappeared all the time and only dropped by once or twice a day.”

  “Did Mr. Savage say why the security was arranged in such a fashion?”

  “He did not ... and I never got a chance to ask.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because ... because ... .” Bolton broke off and sucked in her lower lip. Her response was visceral. If she was acting, she was very good. She was clearly uncomfortable with what she was about to say.

  “We were the last two in the building by the time we finished up,” she explained, regrouping. “I didn’t even realize it until we were done and he had joined me in the call room. He seemed happy with the show, gregarious. He was laughing and having a good time.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He asked if I wanted to go out to dinner with him,” Bolton replied, swallowing hard. “I was caught off guard. I couldn’t decide if it was normal or he thought of it as a date. He wasn’t giving me any hints.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I told him no,” Bolton replied. “I told him I was expected home — I was still living with my parents because I was finishing up college — and I couldn’t be late. He laughed at me, told me that I was too old to be following the rules of others. He insisted I should have dinner with him, but I told him it was impossible.”

  “And then?”

  “And then ... well, then he decided to make sure I understood that saying no to dinner wasn’t an option. He grabbed my wrist and kind of pulled me down the hallway.” Bolton’s eyes turned furtive as she re-lived the memory. “I fought him, slapped at his arm, but I was still confused. Even at that point I didn’t understand what was happening.”

  “When did you understand?” Morgan queried.

  “When he pulled me into the office at the far end of the hallway and I saw the couch inside,” Bolton said. “I don’t know why it was the couch that made me understand. He pushed me toward it. I started fighting harder. He ignored me and pushed again.” A lone tear spilled over her cheek. “I figured out why they insisted on taking over the satellite building that afternoon. No one can hear you scream out there.”

  21 Twenty-One

  Bolton’s testimony was hard to listen to. She went into great detail when telling her story, and it turned my stomach. More interesting to me was Savage’s response. Anger emanated from him as she testified, and at one point he turned to his attorney and whispered. I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive he said, “That’s not what happened.”

  I waited until Bolton was finished with her testimony and the judge ordered a break to stand.

  “That was ... terrible,” I said to James as I stretched.

  “I thought it was fascinating.” His eyes gleamed. “That should be enough to nail Savage to a wall.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be interested in seeing how all this plays out,” I agreed, cracking my neck. “I’m heading back outside. There’s bound to be a buzz going through the crowd regarding this testimony.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Do me a favor,” I prodded. “If there’s more interesting testimony, make sure you text me so I know. That situation is a powder keg and due to blow.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Thanks.”

  I STAYED AT THE PROTEST for a full twenty minutes before the niggling voice in the back of my mind forced me to take stock of the situation and leave. Eliot was in the shop when I entered — no Fawn in sight — and he tilted his head when he saw me.

  “Calling it a day so soon?”

  “Of course not. I’m going back to Ally Hawthorne’s house.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t shake the feeling that she’s the key to this ... or at least important to Savage’s part of the story.”

  “And why is that?”

  I told him about Bolton’s testimony. “She’s either a marvelous actress or she’s telling the truth.”

  “And which way are you leaning?”

  That was the question. “I tend to believe a woman when it comes to rape claims,” I replied finally. “I’m not going to deny there are people out there who would scream it from the rooftops for attention, but something’s off about this situation.”

  “Because Savage is still seeing Hawthorne regularly?”

  “Yeah. Why isn’t she at the courthouse? If someone raped me, I’d be up his rear end until he was sent away for life.”

  “It sounds to me as if Savage and Hawthorne had a different sort of relationship. Maybe she simply can’t break from him. Sometimes love is hard to quantify.”

  I recognized he was telling the truth, but I couldn’t let it go. “I have to talk to her.”

  “She hasn’t been forthcoming so far. What makes you think you’ll be able to break her now?”

  “I won’t give up until she tells me the truth. I’ll be the annoying person sitting on her front porch yelling at the neighbors until she lets me in.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, Eliot looked amused. “What if she calls the cops on you?”

  “She won’t. I know that Savage was in her house doing the nasty last night.”

  “She could still call the cops and deny it.”

  “I guess. I don’t think that’s going to happen, though. I think she wants to talk.”

  “Well ... if you need bail money, you know who to call.”

  I beamed at him. “Thanks.”

  “I was talking about your mother.”

  My smile slipped. �
��That was just mean.”

  ALLY OPENED THE DOOR with a scowl.

  “Do you want me to get my gun?”

  I shrugged and kept a serene smile in place. “Will that make you feel safe enough to talk to me? If so, go for it.”

  Her frown only deepened. “You’re like a bad rash. You won’t go away.”

  “Like herpes.”

  “Is that how you like to think of yourself?”

  “I’ve heard worse comparisons.” I shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Absolutely not.” She held firm, puffing out her chest. “You are not invited into my house. That means you can’t enter.”

  She was kind of funny with her righteous indignation. I couldn’t help but laugh. “That only works with vampires. Now, I’m not saying it wouldn’t be cool to be a vampire, but if I had to choose, I would totally prefer being a witch to a vampire. Flying around on a broom sounds like a lot of fun … although I could also do that if I was a Harry Potter character.

  I was lost in thought for a moment. “Nope. I changed my mind. I want to be a Harry Potter character.”

  She made an exasperated sound deep in her throat. “What is the matter with you? No, I’m seriously asking. You clearly have issues. Have you been tested for mental instability?”

  “Believe it or not, my mother took me to a counselor when I was a teenager. She was hoping to drug the crazy out of me. It turns out I’m just spirited and not crazy.”

  “Well … take your spirited self someplace else. I don’t want to talk to you.” Ally moved to close the door in my face but I extended my foot to stop her, a move that only ratcheted her fury up a notch. “I’ll call the police,” she shrieked. “I will. They’ll haul you away in handcuffs. How does that sound?”

  “Like something that has happened before,” I answered honestly. “You’re more than welcome to call the police. If you do, be aware that I’ll be forced to tell them about your guest last evening.”

  Her face, previously red with rage, went ashen. “W-what?” She stopped pushing on the door and went slack. “What did you say?”

  Hmm. The words affected her exactly as I thought they would. “Yeah, I stopped by for a visit last night. You probably didn’t realize that. I was by the back fence when Savage climbed over. I followed him from the courthouse, but I had a feeling I knew where he was going.”