by Robin Allen
Chapter Twenty-Two
The doorbell rang as Sage and Ramion worked at the kitchen table. Ramion’s open briefcase lay on the floor next to his feet; he was bent over, reading a deposition. Sage’s laptop computer was flipped open, and she leaned in, rapidly clicking on the keyboard, reading and responding to her electronic mail. The shrill sound of the doorbell broke their concentration.
“Expecting anybody?” Ramion asked when the doorbell rang for the second time.
Sage glanced at her watch and said, “Not this late.”
“I’ll see who it is,” Ramion said, getting up from his chair.
Wearing jeans and a Falcons tee-shirt, Ramion strode down the hall and peeked through the window. “Hey, Drew,” he said after opening the door. “What’s going on, man?”
They shook hands. “Ain’t much happening with me,” Drew said. “I just thought I’d stop by and see what’s going on here.”
“Come on into the kitchen.”
Drew followed Ramion around the corner into the kitchen. Pointing to the refrigerator, Ramion said, “Grab a beer.”
“Drew?” Sage intoned, leaning back against the Breuer cane chair.
“Hello, Mrs. Sandidge,” Drew said with smile, while opening the refrigerator door.
Sage chuckled, “Not too many people call me that.”
Drew reached inside the refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer from the shelf on the door. He twisted off the bottle cap and drained some of the beer. He turned a kitchen chair toward him and straddled it. “What are you guys doing?”
“I’m reviewing some of the depositions from people at my old law firm, for the hearing.”
“Are they favorable?” Drew asked.
“Oh, yeah, everyone says basically the same thing: that I was always professional and never acted out of line with any woman. No one confirms Selena’s allegation that I tapped her on the butt in a meeting.”
“That’s good,” Drew said.
“I’m waiting to get the depositions from Cynthia. She’s been stalling.”
“That’s because she has no case,” Sage said. “I think this is all smoke, Ramion. It’s the timing that is so incredible. She makes allegations against you, assuming that it wouldn’t go to court until after the election. Even if she later drops the suit, you’ve lost the election.”
“Cameron did me a big favor calling Judge Brackett. I owe him big-time,” Ramion said. “If he hadn’t made that call, I might as well pull out of the race right now.”
“What’s the girl’s motive?” Drew asked.
“I don’t know,” Ramion said, twirling a pen in his hand. “Unless Edwinna put her up to this.”
“Edwinna?” Drew said, with a puzzled frown.
“Considering the trouble she went through to fake a tape, I think she would do anything,” Ramion said. “The bitch is crazy, obsessed with destroying me.”
Sage nodded. “You know how I feel about her. If it wasn’t totally out of my character, I’d love to beat the crap out of her.”
Ramion shrugged. “If not Edwinna, who?”
“My thing is, if the girl wants to be a lawyer and she goes public with a crazy story like this one, she ruins her chance of ever becoming a respected attorney,” Drew said.
“Yeah, but she’s failed the bar twice. At this point, why would she care? She’s probably given up on becoming a lawyer,” Sage said. “From what I heard, her real goal was to marry a lawyer. That’s the reason she went to law school in the first place.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Drew asked.
“From Tawny. She knows a girl who went to law school with Selena. She says Selena just barely got by. She was more interested in men than books,” Sage said.
“That explains why she was so inept,” Ramion said. “She did some research for me and always came back with the wrong cases. It wasn’t complicated, but she was overwhelmed. After a month or so, I requested a new intern.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Sage said.
Ramion and Drew stared at her, their expressions puzzled.
“Maybe she has a grudge against you because you offended her.”
“That was never my intention. I asked for a different intern—and no, I didn’t explain why—but frankly, no one ever asked,” Ramion said. “She also worked for Edwinna.”
“Maybe that’s the connection,” Drew said.
“I still can’t understand why she would put herself on the line for Edwinna,” Ramion said.
“Maybe Edwinna paid her,” Sage suggested.
“That’s possible,” Drew said. “Anyway, can’t you talk to her?”
“No, that would be unethical. I’d be digging my own grave. And to tell you the truth, I couldn’t trust myself not to wring her neck.”
“I just might check out what’s going on with Selena,” Drew said. “See if there’s a connection with Edwinna, maybe find out more about the law firm she’s working for.”
“Now I know why she didn’t want to say what firm she was with when we ran into her at the Fox,” Sage said. “She didn’t want you to know that she wasn’t a lawyer.”
“I was just making conversation with the woman,” Ramion said.
“I remember she acted strange about it,” Sage said.
“Maybe I’ll find a new angle to the story or nothing at all, but something smells fishy,” Drew said with a small laugh. “That’s the reporter in me.”
“Do your thing,” Sage said. “Maybe you’ll find something that will help us.”
“Anyway, I came by to give you a heads-up.” Drew paused before adding, “I’m afraid I’ve got some more bad news.”
“What now?” Sage asked, rubbing her face with her hands. She was tired and planned to go to bed after responding to the more than one-hundred-plus electronic mail inquiries.
Drew took a swig of beer. “Ramion’s behind in the polls. Edwinna’s got a fifteen percent lead on him. It’s going to be in the papers tomorrow.”
“Damn!” Ramion uttered, banging his fist on the table.
“I’m not surprised,” Sage said. Massaging her temples, she felt the onslaught of a migraine headache.
“That hearing can’t come fast enough,” Ramion said wearily.
“It’s time to flip the script,” Sage said. “You’re going to have to debate Edwinna.”
“This isn’t the race for the US senate or the governor,” Drew said, his look patronizing.
“I know, but he may not have a choice. How else is Ramion going to redeem himself? It’s the best way to show who he is, what he believes and how he would vote on different issues. Edwinna will come across professional and polished, but she has no compassion for the people—and she won’t be able to hide that.”
“You have a point,” Drew said. “She’s haughty and doesn’t hide it. Humility’s a word she doesn’t understand, and there’s no way she’d come across as a servant to the people.”
“She’s only running because she wants me to lose,” Ramion said. “But you’re right, Sage. I’m going to challenge her to a debate.” Ramion raised his bottle of beer. “I propose a toast—to my brilliant wife.”
“Here, here,” Drew said, clinking his bottle against Ramion’s.
* * * * *
Oliver Lincoln rolled into the Governor’s Mansion in a wheelchair, excited to attend the reception for the unveiling of new art for the Mansion. Attired in a black-and-white tuxedo with a little red bow at his neck, Mr. Lincoln had a smile on his face the size of Mount Rushmore. Escorted by his butler and private-duty nurse, he was thrilled to be away from home, where he had become a prisoner to his failing health. He directed his butler to find Ms. Kennedy and waited in the Entrance Hall.
Sage was talking to the governor’s wife when the butler patted her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Miss Kennedy, but Mr. Lincoln asked me to let you know he’s here.”
“Mr. Lincoln’s here?” Sage said with surprise.
“He’s waiting in the foyer,” the butler
said before turning away.
“What did you do to him, Sage?” Sarah teased. “He donates original paintings, and now he comes to our reception. The man hasn’t been seen in public in years.”
Sage cocked an eyebrow, smiling impishly. “I don’t know, Sarah. Maybe I just have the magic touch. Anyway, he’s really a very sweet man.”
“Before he became ill, he was ruthless. Tough as nails. People feared him.”
“Well, he’s not like that at all now,” Sage said. “I’ll see you later.”
Sage went into the hall, where she found Oliver Lincoln speaking with two members of the city council. When he spotted Sage, he abruptly ended his conversation, waving his hand and beckoning to her.
“Hello, Mr. Lincoln.” Sage smiled brightly, holding out her hand.
He pushed her hand away, chuckling. “Come now, you know me better than that.”
With a twinkle in her olive eyes, Sage bent over and kissed him, unintentionally flashing her cleavage in his face. She wore a black-lace evening gown that dipped to a dramatically low décolletage, showcasing her ample cleavage. Diamonds dangled from her ears and sparkled around her neck.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Sage said. “I feel honored.”
“No, it is you who honors me with your presence.”
“I can’t thank you enough for the paintings. They’re so beautiful! They’re the biggest hit of the reception. I still can’t believe they were created by a black painter who studied in France after the Civil War. It’s incredible.”
“Many people in his circle of friends didn’t know he was black until they saw his paintings. He painted about the suffering of his people, even though he was granted the privileges and lifestyle of a white man.”
“He must have been very brave.”
“It cost him his life in the end. A young white woman fell in love with him. They wanted to marry. But when her father found out he was a black man, he killed him,” Mr. Lincoln said, breaking into a coughing spasm.
“Can I get you some water?” Sage offered.
He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said in a scratchy voice. “His technique was very unusual for the late 1800s.”
“Yes, it was,” she said, nodding. “Would you like me to show you around?”
“I’d be delighted,” the octogenarian said, his eyes glowing with his fervor for the subject at hand.
Sage wheeled him into the library, indicating all the new paintings and books. As they made their way through the Governor’s Mansion, several people stopped them to speak with the distinguished gentleman.
“You’ve caused quite a stir,” Sage said.
“I haven’t been out of the house in five years.”
“Oh, that’s so sad. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“If this old body was as strong as my mind, I’d still be running this town.”
Sage chuckled. “I’m sure you would.”
Ramion walked over to them.
“Mr. Lincoln,” Sage said, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Ramion Sandidge. Ramion, this is Oliver Lincoln, the art collector.”
“And founder of Lincoln Insurance Company and the Investment Fund,” Ramion said, extending his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“You’re a lucky young man. If I was a mite younger myself, I’d have to take your girl from you.”
Ramion laughed. “I’m afraid you’d have to fight for her.”
“I’m pulling for you to win the election, Ramion. I know you’ve run into some trouble, but I have faith you can still win.”
Ramion was taken aback, surprised the man knew so much about the election and shocked to have his support. “Why, thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
“I’m feeling tired,” Mr. Lincoln said, suddenly.
“Okay,” Sage said. “I’ll take you back to the foyer.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lincoln,” Ramion said, and walked away.
Sage wheeled the man into the elegant foyer, where the butler and nurse were waiting anxiously. She could tell by the concerned, angry flash in the nurse’s eyes that her patient had probably overextended himself.
“Good night, Mr. Lincoln,” Sage said, bending forward to brush her lips against his. This time she was fully aware her breasts were in his face. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m glad my paintings are here for others to enjoy.” He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, “Be sure to watch the newspaper in the next few days. You might read some interesting developments.”
Sage peered at him quizzically.
“I’m sure it’ll make the front page,” he said with a wink. “Good night.”
* * * * *
“I told you not to call my office,” Edwinna said to Selena, sliding into the booth at a near-empty Waffle House restaurant.
“I didn’t leave a message. I just kept calling until you answered. It took two days to get through,” Selena said.
“What’s so damn urgent?”
“You never said anything about going to court. You said that by the time it came to trial I could drop the charges,” Selena said, her high-pitched voice loud.
Edwinna shot her a piercing look. “Lower your voice!” she whispered between clenched teeth.
“Well, the hearing is next week, and I’m not going to lie to a judge.”
“The judge isn’t going to know you’re lying,” Edwinna said dismissively. “It would be your word against his.”
“That’s not the point,” Selena said, leaning into the table. “We never talked about going to court. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this.”
“It’s too late now. I didn’t think it would go to court this fast. Ramion or Sage or somebody they know, probably the governor, pulled some strings and got it on the calendar.”
“I’m not prepared to go to court. You never mentioned it, and neither did Cynthia, for that matter,” Selena said.
“Would you like to order something?” interrupted a middle-aged waitress with crooked teeth and a blank expression. She placed a grease-stained menu in front of Edwinna.
Dressed in a fur jacket and matching hat, Edwinna glared at the woman with a you-must-be-kidding look.
“Suit yourself,” the woman said and walked away.
Selena said, “If I go into the court…”
“Wait until she’s gone,” Edwinna said in an impatient whisper. When the waitress was out of hearing distance, she said, “Nothing much is going to happen. It’s just a preliminary hearing. You’re not going to have to testify.”
Selena finished her coffee. “I have no intention of taking the stand,” she said, staring impudently at Edwinna. She felt like she had walked onto the set of a soap opera but wasn’t reading lines for the camera. Guilt had plagued her ever since she saw Ramion’s shocked face on television.
“You won’t have to. There won’t be enough time. The judge will probably turn the case over and set a court date for months from now. By that time, the election will be over,” Edwinna said, glancing at her watch.
“I don’t know about this. I kind of liked Ramion.”
“I don’t want to hear that,” Edwinna said forcefully. “We had an agreement.”
“If I have to go to court, I want more.”
From the moment Selena had called her unexpectedly at work, Edwinna became nervous about their affiliation. She glanced suspiciously around the restaurant and outside the window into the parking lot. “We agreed.”
“We didn’t agree that I would have to go to court.”
Edwinna checked her watch, noting that she had been there for ten minutes. She stared at Selena for a minute before nodding. “I’ll drop a cashier’s check in your mother’s mailbox. Don’t deposit it in your account.”
Selena studied Edwinna, intrigued by the woman’s motive. She wondered whether Edwinna was desperate to beat Ramion in the election or was motivated by some sort of twisted revenge. She had never unders
tood Edwinna, even during the two months she worked for her. Her own reason for perpetrating a lie was simple—survival. She needed the money to clear up some debts and move to her own place. She had given up her dream of becoming an attorney, and she still wasn’t ready to admit to herself that working as a hairdresser in her mother’s salon was an alternative way to make the kind of money that would support her lifestyle.
“How much?” she asked when Edwinna abruptly stood up.
“One thousand.”
“Make it fifteen hundred, or I won’t show up.” Selena didn’t waver under Edwinna’s indignant stare. Her stubborn expression communicating that she had the upper hand, if only for the moment.
“Done,” Edwinna said, then walked off.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Selena Tucker appeared poised and confident in a black suit as she entered the courtroom with her attorney. Behind dark glasses, she glanced furtively at Ramion. She almost stumbled when she recognized several of the lawyers and staff members from Ramion’s former law firm.
“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Selena whispered anxiously to Cynthia Powers. She sat down next to her attorney, refusing to look at the team of attorneys flanking her adversary. His wife, parents and sister were there to support him, but she had only Cynthia beside her.
“Neither did I,” Cynthia said angrily, taking several file folders from her briefcase. “It’s much too early for witnesses.” She caught Ramion staring at her with the cockiness of a prize-winning rooster. “Whatever they’re planning, I hope the judge doesn’t buy into it. Take those sunglasses off. It makes you look like you’re hiding behind them.”
“Am I going to have to testify?” Selena asked, as she removed the designer shades. She felt unprotected without the dark glasses. She tilted her head to peek at Ramion, feeling even more nervous about the court proceedings that were closed to the public.
“You shouldn’t have to. This is just a preliminary hearing.”
Everyone stood up when Judge Brackett entered the courtroom. After the judge settled into his chair, the bailiff motioned with his hands to sit down.
