by Nic Saint
“He must love you very much.”
Eileen chose not to respond to that. She knew just what had elicited Ramon to suggest such an outrageous thing. It was the same thing that now drove Frank to shower her with chivalry and compliments. She hadn’t missed the looks he kept darting at her chest, and the excitement that had held him in its grasp ever since he’d walked into the room. Men. They were all the same, she thought bitterly. At least she could use her assets to her advantage. If the promise of sex had kept Ramon coming back for more, perhaps the same would work on Frank.
She stood and joined him at the door. Then, on impulse, hugged herself to him, making sure he felt the soft caress of her bosom against his barrel chest.
He stiffened for a moment, then awkwardly slung his hands around her back, and pressed her closer to him, apparently relishing the sensation of her soft bust cushioning against him.
She smiled a sad smile.
Frank emerged from the interview feeling a little ruffled. He hadn’t known what to expect from Eileen Stoker, but most definitely not this. The woman was hot as hell, and not afraid to use her God-given assets to get what she wanted.
He now doubted very much if her story was as good as his friend seemed to believe it was.
His first impression? A nice woman who’d inadvertently gotten herself mixed up in a very bad deal indeed. And he didn’t buy for a second her claim of innocence.
Women like that were never innocent, he knew from experience. The way she had rubbed herself against him? If he’d stayed five seconds longer, she’d have thrown herself at him, and he’d have had a very hard time to resist her natural charms, that much he knew.
He decided not to share these preliminary conclusions with Ramon. The man was obviously enamored with the lady, and he didn’t want to burst that bubble.
Besides, he was a man who dealt solely with the facts pertaining to the cases he accepted, and he hadn’t yet sifted through them to the point where he could safely say he had a solid grasp on the case.
The police believed in her guilt, that much was clear from the brief interview he’d been granted with the lead investigator in the case, one Burt Howe.
The man seemed competent enough, and he was unwavering in his persistence Eileen Stoker was a femme fatale who hadn’t accepted the fact that the very wealthy Jack Rafter had gotten away from her and had decided to rain down revenge on the man.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned seemed to be the leading thought in Howe’s mind.
Frank joined Ramon in the police station waiting room, and took him outside. They both could use a drink and he didn’t want to discuss the case in a place where police officers walked in and out all the time.
The Busy Badger was a pub like any other, and once the men had found a little nook where they could talk matters through, they took their drinks and settled in.
Ramon was dying of curiosity to know what his friend’s thoughts were. He knew Frank to be a very sharp litigator with a keen intuition for the truth. Plus, he wanted to know how Eileen was holding up.
The fact that he’d been barred from seeing her hurt like hell, and the thought of her all alone in that prison cell enraged him, an emotion unworthy of a priest, he knew, but there it was.
Frank took his time before getting down to business. He fixed Ramon with a stern gaze. “I didn’t mean to tell you this, my friend, but…”
Ramon’s heart sank. “What? What happened?” He quickly rose, almost upsetting the table. “What did they do to her in there? Tell me!”
Frank held up his hands. “Calm down, Ramon. Eileen is fine.”
“Oh.” Ramon took a seat, his hands balled into fists. “If anything happens to her, I’ll—”
“Yes, yes. You won’t be held responsible for the consequences. I know, I know. Now cut the heroics and just listen to me, will you?” He laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that? Still the same hothead.”
“I can’t help how I feel about Eileen. The thought of her alone in there, innocent… It’s just too much.”
Judging from Ramon’s reaction, Frank thought it better not to divulge anything of a nature to further upset his friend. He’d been wanting to put his cards on the table, but now reconsidered again. He sat back. “Look. Tomorrow she’s appearing before the judge. Perhaps we can post bail and get her out of there.”
A glimmer of hope dawned in Ramon’s eye. Frank didn’t know whether to deem it pathetic or endearing. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. “How much?”
He shrugged. “That’s for the judge to decide. However, the question of who’s going to cough up the sum is the more pertinent one. I gather the church doesn’t pay you priests in purses of gold?”
Sobered, Ramon murmured, “You’re right about that. And her mother doesn’t appear to be swimming in the stuff either.”
“Let’s just wait and see before we start wallowing in misery, shall we? Perhaps the sum will be most reasonable, and with a bit of effort, we might be able to raise it.”
It hadn’t escaped Ramon’s attention that his friend had used the plural pronoun. Would the successful lawyer consider to chip in for Eileen’s release? He hoped he would, for his own savings were meager to say the least.
Frank took a swig from his lager, then continued, “I think you and I need to start doing a bit of detecting ourselves, my friend. There’s a lot of things about this case that disturb me greatly. Not the least of which is the dubious role Jacqueline Doulard seems to have played. Burt Howe told me she used to work for Eileen, or at least that’s the story she stands by.”
“She did work for Eileen. She was her divorce lawyer.”
“When asked to produce evidence of same, however, Eileen couldn’t. She claims her email account must have been hacked, for all the emails have mysteriously vanished.”
“That’s odd.”
“Most odd. I think the best thing to do would be to get in touch with this ex-husband first.”
“Jack Rafter.”
“One and the same. You feel up to a bit of snooping, old man?”
“Most assuredly so.”
Ramon thought the future had never looked so bleak. If Eileen couldn’t prove that Doulard had worked for her, no one would believe the rest of her story.
The only thing they had going for them now was Frank. He gave his friend a grateful smile. If not for the savvy attorney, they would be sunk.
Chapter 17
Eileen lay in her cell, feeling hopeless and forlorn. Ramon and his sweet caress seemed like a million years ago, even though it had only been the night before.
Twenty-four hours. How much difference a day could make. She’d been happy, she remembered. Happy to find a caring man. Even if he did only care about her body, Ramon seemed to be genuinely concerned about her, and intent on providing her with the best legal advice he could wrangle up. She didn’t know whether that was a token of his love, or a sign he was desperate to have her into his bed again, but she didn’t care anymore.
She’d decided to give herself to Ramon, and not to hope for more than what he could give.
It would still be more than what any man had ever given her in the past.
She thought of Ramon, his tender hands roaming across her body, stirring a fever in her being that hadn’t abated, and in spite of her predicament, she fanned the flame and felt the familiar heat simmer between her thighs.
Ramon had been the first man she’d been with since her divorce from the rat Jack, and her body had been unaccustomed to being with a man.
It had been so long…
She just hoped that this time she wouldn’t have to wait as long.
Frank had said she could expect bail to be set at a reasonable price, since she was a native to this town, had family and friends here, and the risk of fleeing was minimal.
He said he thought she had a chance to walk free tomorrow, with a little luck.
She’d said luck had never been a commodity that agreed with her.
<
br /> She wondered briefly whether she shouldn’t have hugged the attorney. She now felt ashamed she had. She didn’t want him that way, not the way she wanted Ramon, but the urge for survival had been strong, and so was the self-loathing that had been a part of her spiritual make-up for so long.
She vowed never to give the man the wrong impression again. After all, she loved Ramon, no matter if he reciprocated the sentiment or not. She belonged to the handsome young priest, and no other man would ever touch her again like that, nor would she throw herself at their mercy ever again.
She thought about her mother, who would be crying herself to sleep tonight. She’d phoned her briefly, and had explained the circumstances of her arrest. The woman had been devastated, the disgrace weighing her down just as much as knowing her daughter was in jail for a crime she didn’t commit.
She’d told her mother to get in touch with Father Ramon. He would see to it she was kept informed and would provide her with the emotional and spiritual sustenance if the cross became too much to bear.
She closed her eyes, then, and willed herself to sleep. The sooner the morrow came, the sooner she might be out of here. But no matter how hard she tried, sleep wouldn’t come. Finally she hugged herself, and imagined it were Ramon’s arms wrapped around her, his body firmly pressed against hers and sheltering her from the raging storm.
She cried herself to sleep, and when the morrow did come, was surprised to find that the sun had returned to dispel the cold, long night. She hadn’t thought such a feat was possible.
Ramon didn’t get much sleep either. First Mrs Stoker had dropped by, and they’d spent a long time talking things through, to the point the priest felt he knew as much about Eileen’s childhood as her own mother.
She’d been a happy child, her mother had assured him, until the moment her body had betrayed her by developing earlier than the other girls in her class.
That’s when the trouble had started. Barely twelve, boys and men had stared at her on the street, and girls and women had started to pour the filthy brand of gossip over her that had lasted to this day.
They’d often thought about a breast reduction, but the family could ill afford such a procedure. That, and her father hadn’t liked the idea, considering it a taboo subject around the home. He hadn’t even wanted to discuss it.
Moving away from Brookridge, like Ramon suggested, had never crossed their minds. Eileen’s father had held a decent position at the post office and uprooting his family to find employ in a different town would only have caused more financial trouble.
Besides, said the woman bitterly, the same type of gossip would have sprung up wherever they moved, people being the same everywhere.
Before Eileen’s mother had called, Ramon had joined Frank for a visit to the illustrious Mr Jack Rafter, only to find him absent from his home, the neighbors not being able to give them an indication where he might have gone off to.
Then Frank had said he had other sources to aid his investigation, and had left him to entertain Mrs Stoker by himself for the rest of the evening, urging the young priest to gather as much information from the old lady as he could.
Mrs Stoker—Francine to her pals—could only confirm what Eileen had already told him. Her marriage to Jack had been a failure from the start, the man having not a single faithful bone in his body, leaving his wife often for days at a time to go boozing and whoring with his buddies.
Finally Eileen had broken down and filed for divorce. When it came through, it had been the happiest day in Francine’s life, she said, especially when her little girl had moved back home, where she could take care of her.
The whole episode had left Eileen with even less self-confidence than she already had, and she had abstained from getting involved with any man since.
Then she directed an inquisitive stare at Ramon, and the priest had confessed to nurturing deeper feelings for her daughter than mere friendship, and that he’d even proposed marriage.
Mrs Stoker was over the moon when she learned this, and even when Ramon explained that matrimony was an impossibility because her daughter was still married to the other guy, she’d waved her hand and assured him that this was only a small legal matter that could be cleared up in no time.
Francine had left wishing him all the best, and vowing that he’d made her the happiest woman in the world, something which Ramon felt a little dubious about, seeing that Eileen was still a guest of the state, and that she was going to have to stand trial for murder.
“Father Ramon,” Francine had said, “you’re a man of God, and we all know that there’s no greater power in heaven or earth than the Lord. If you love my little girl, then everything will surely be all right, for you walk with the grace of God, and so does Eileen since you love her.” She’d smiled beatifically, and kissed him on both cheeks before bidding him a wonderful evening.
The whole conversation had uplifted him a great deal, but then his thoughts had drifted back to Eileen, alone in her cell, and his mood had plummeted once more.
Odd, he felt, that Eileen’s mother would have more faith in him than he did himself.
After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, he’d arisen and set foot for the church to spend the witching hour with bowed head, kneeling in the front pew, lost in prayer to a Father who seemed to have abandoned him for the moment.
And when he thought he couldn’t slip deeper into depression, he’d felt an unexpected benediction washing over him, almost as if his prayer had been answered, and he’d returned home, exhausted, and had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep until morning.
Somehow, during the night, a glimmer of hope had started to assert itself, and when sunlight tickled his eyelids and jerked him from the tendrils of sleep, he rose with a hopeful heart.
Things were going to be all right, he suddenly thought, and when he got a phone call from Suzie Parsley’s mother that her daughter had just awakened from her coma, he knew that his prayers had been answered.
Chapter 18
Eileen sat in the courtroom, her back straight, and her face displaying nothing of the emotions raging through her as she sat facing the judge and the dozens of Brookridgeans who had shown up to catch a glimpse of the ‘murdering whore’.
Not that they spoke these words to her face when she was led into court, but when she caught sight of Mrs Cooper and Mrs Burke, she could read it on their faces as clear as if they’d spat it in her face.
Luckily Ramon was there, and the smile he directed at her did much to dispel the gloom from her mind.
And then there was Frank Ruffalo, looking dapper in a charcoal suit and welcoming her with a most unprofessional wink.
When the judge arrived, she felt her heart pound in her chest, and it was all she could do not to collapse. She stood firm, though, not wanting to show weakness in front of the predators who’d come to gloat, and when the judge set bail at five thousand dollars and Frank whispered she was free to go, she couldn’t believe her ears.
“But I don’t have five thousand, Frank. And neither does my mother.”
“Consider it taken care of,” he said, and gestured to the man walking up to her with a spring in his step.
Before she could react, he’d taken her in his arms, and claimed her mouth for his own. Too stunned to respond, she surrendered herself to him, slinging her arms around his neck and giving the kiss her all.
For a moment, there was only Ramon, and then the noise and the hubbub from the benches reminded her she was in court, and when she turned to look, she found herself gazing into a dozen hostile faces, dark eyes boring into hers, condemnation writ large.
Uncharacteristically, she gave them a wide smile, and hooked her arm through Ramon’s.
You know what? her smile said. I don’t give a damn about you or yours anymore. You can take your filthy minds and stuff them up your—
“Honey!”
Her mother had walked up to her and clasped her in a tight embrace.
“Mom…”
she whispered.
“I knew it,” her mother whispered back. “The moment I laid eyes on that young man of yours, I knew that everything would be all right. He’s a man of God, after all, and no one or nothing can compete with the Lord.”
“I guess not,” Eileen laughed.
Mom took her face in her hands, and said, “It’s good to see you smile again, honey. It’s been far too long.”
Mom was right, she thought. It had been far too long since she’d let the sunshine in her heart. Leaning her head on Ramon’s shoulder, she waited for Frank to fulfill all the administrative requirements of bail, and then she was truly free.
As she walked from the courthouse, she could have whooped and hollered.
Ramon gazed upon the woman by his side with pride in his heart and love in his eyes. He might have fallen for her gorgeous body, but he knew now that there was far more to Eileen that had sparked his interest. He could hardly believe it, but she held his heart in her hands and she didn’t even know it. As he watched her smile turn into a thing of beauty and radiance, her auburn hair lit up by the sun as they walked from the courthouse steps, he suddenly knew—simply knew—that he loved this woman, and wanted to spend as much time with her as he possibly could.
Frank had had his doubts, he knew. The other man couldn’t fool him. Even though he’d professed to believe in her innocence, he’d seen it in his eyes. The skeptical look he always reserved for cases where he didn’t fully believe he was defending innocence.
Now he did. Eileen was innocent, he knew that in his heart to be the truth, and he would see to it that Frank knew it too.
Frank joined them, and it was just like the big guy to temper their happiness with a few penciled thoughts of his own.
“This is just temporary, you know that, right? There’s going to be a trial, and if we don’t prove Eileen’s innocence before then, twelve good people of this community are going to decide her fate.”
“Twelve good…” Eileen faltered.
He could see she didn’t hold much faith in the goodness of the people of this community, and her next words confirmed this. “They’ll send me back to prison in a heartbeat, Frank. No matter what you say, they’ve already drawn their conclusions a long time ago.” Bitterly, she added, “This is going to be their finest hour. The moment they’ve been waiting for.”
