Rooked

by Caitlin Sara

  “I’m not just some manwhore, Ms. Hopkins. I have feelings, too.”

  “Didn’t you hear my mother? I’m the whore.” She splashed water on his face as he playfully pushed her back under the streaming warm water, joining her in the shower still wearing his boxer briefs. The water fell over their heads as he pulled her in, touching chest to chest.

  “I love you, Ara.” Not quite remembering what to say in return, she kissed him as the water washed over their faces.

  “Don’t make too much trouble with your mother today.”

  Ara pulled back from him dismissively. “You serious?”

  “Just go see your lawyer, it could only help you.”

  Lane wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her as she grabbed the shampoo and massaged it into her scalp. “No need to cut off your nose to spite your face.” Ara rolled her eyes and turned back to face him.

  “Fine, but only because you asked.”

  An hour later, Ara and her mother worked through the general niceties more in line with a Monday morning conference call than a mother-daughter catch up date. Ara knew the call Lane had received to go into the station was bogus, but she didn’t blame him. She wished to bail on this brunch herself. After determining the warmer weather was much needed, and that Manhattan’s bustle never slowed, Arabelle finally came to the point.

  “This will only make you look guilty, you know,” she said, sipping her mimosa.

  “Since when do you drink mimosas?” Ara wanted to tap dance on the table more than she wanted to entertain her mother’s conspiracy theories.

  “You can't hide from this, darling. Coping with losing your husband the way you are is downright cheap.”

  “My husband was murdered in cold blood while I dragged my pregnant self up the stairs, only to walk in on his life freshly taken.” Ara continued, ignoring the lack of response, “Then I found out that the father of my unborn child had slept with anyone over a C-cup in Manhattan and preferred to send me off for my attacks so he could parade his tastelessness around the entire city.”

  “And sleeping with his best friend makes you feel better?” Her mother’s tone did nothing to hide the repugnance she had for her decision. “People will hate you for this.”

  “You think I killed my husband, don’t you?” Ara twisted the champagne flute with just two fingers, feeling delightfully perverse.

  “All I’ve wanted is for you to be careful. Handle this the right way, with some class.”

  Their shared order of poached eggs and an arugula salad was placed in the center, followed by a third round of drinks, despite both having lost their appetites.

  “Anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked.

  “Just the check, please.” Ara couldn’t last another ten minutes. “We have an appointment to keep.”

  Ara waited outside while her mother paid the bill and collected the to-go carriers the restaurant manager insisted on packing.

  Arabelle had asked her driver to pick them up out front of the restaurant. “You should speak with Raina.”

  Flinching at her mother’s statement, Ara said, “Why do you say that?”

  “I can always tell when you two are arguing, does neither of you any good, you know.”

  How her mother could be so out of touch continued to amaze Ara. This was all Raina’s fault. She was the one who unforgivably screwed Ara over, yet here her mother was asking her to make amends. If only she knew what Raina had done to her.

  “We’re not fighting. Just don’t have anything to say to each other at the moment.” Ara paused turning toward her mother. “She’s not capable of understanding me and there are things that you don’t know that happened between us. Things even you would agree are unforgiveable.”

  “You need support right now, people to lean on and to help you move forward. So what they don’t know exactly how you feel.”

  Ara’s eyes began to sting with unannounced tears. “I am being taken care of. Lane has been so kind and amazing. I don’t know how I would be getting by without him.”

  Arabelle kicked at a stray cigarette on the sidewalk, grunting. “I see that now based on this morning. You certainly are being taken care of.”

  How could her mother think her relationship with Lane was nothing more than sex? “He’s a good man. And Brad loved him like a brother. Brad would trust him to take care of me and you should, too.”

  “That may be so, but have you thought at all how it could be spun? Especially collecting on his insurance, shacking up in the apartment you shared with your husband.”

  “The insurance was your idea. I never wanted any of that.”

  Her mother may have a point, but she was certainly not going to admit to it. Her relationship with Lane was not something she wanted to advertise. Though she could assume the detectives may have picked up on it. “No one knows but you. And if you cared about me and my life moving forward, you would support me and not worry about Raina.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone, darling. Just, please, spend a little less time locked away in your lingerie and more time proving to the world you are a good woman who was struck by a very tragic accident.”

  Ara didn’t want to prove anything to anyone. She just wanted to close her eyes and wake up in someone else’s world.

  “Please call Raina, for me. It’s always better when you two can support each other.”

  It was the last thing Ara wanted, but to silence the conversation with her mother she said, “Fine. I’ll call her. Can we go in and get this meeting over with?”

  CHAPTER 28

  Though happy to get out of what was sure to be a sufficiently awkward brunch, Lane was not totally sure if the phone call he’d received would lead to a better afternoon. He didn’t want to worry Ara by telling her he was called by the NJPD for standard questioning or that he was going to cooperate and go down to the station. Detective Ameno seemed to have the hots for him and Ara and stubbornly refused to respect the boundaries. Lane could bet the interview would be less than cordial. Especially after the last interaction between the two of them.

  A seasoned detective himself, Lane could tell they thought there was more to the story. He didn’t blame them one bit; he felt it, too. Sitting opposite Detectives Ameno and Maro, Lane felt uncomfortable with the tables turned. Ameno was standing, one foot up against the wall, perched up like a fierce flamingo, while Maro sat at the table, casually jotting things down he would want to remember later.

  “You and Ms. Hopkins have grown closer, correct, Detective?” Maro asked, barely looking up from his yellow note pad.

  Lane knew the tactic, start off with the small, more general questions, to make the person you’re interviewing feel a sense of relief, only to ultimately throw them off guard. It was one he used often and was not going to fall for today, not with these clowns. “We were always somewhat close, Ara was married to my best friend. I was the best man at their wedding. Our friendship is nothing new.”

  “According to the maid of honor, Ms. Raina Martin, you had been keeping your distance as of late. Avoiding the circle of friends.”

  “I was working a lot of overtime. I’m sure you both can understand that.”

  Lane could never understand how Ara and Raina remained friends. He supposed they had to be cordial, being stepsisters and all, but he never understood the friendship side to their relationship, not with Raina’s well-known meddling and attention-seeking ways. The two seemed like polar opposites to him. “You have to watch out for Raina. I’m sure by now you’ve learned she has a flare for dramatics.” Clearing his throat, Lane moved his attention to Ameno. “Not to mention for . . . shall we call it, male attention?” He wouldn’t put it past Raina to try seducing the younger detective, just to force her involvement in the case. She hated being left out of a situation or ignored. It is was why he himself deliberately did not take notice of her when they all first met. Not that she hadn’t made many desperate attempts to get with him, but he always preferred class to easy
ass.

  “Yes. We can see Ms. Martin likes to be, what shall we call it,” said Ameno, returning the subtle jab, “involved. Are you getting a little ménage trois action there, Bene?”

  Lane stood, his metal chair slamming as it fell back to the ground. “Don’t you ever put those two in the same sentence to me.” Knowing better than to further lose his composure, he stopped himself and reached for the fallen chair before his emotions got the best of him.

  Ameno laughed and raised his hands above his head as if to mockingly prove his innocence. “That girl’s really rocked your world there, huh, Bene? You help her kill her husband to continue your little tryst?” Lane had Ameno up against the wall before anyone knew what happened. Maro grabbed him, pushing Lane back toward the chair.

  “Get your shit together, boys, you’re both men of the law. I didn’t think I had to goddamn babysit.”

  Ameno crouched low now, his face even with Lane’s and unwilling to back down. “So pussy whipped by Ara Hopkins. I bet you helped her kill her husband.” A more mature detective would have backed off out of respect, but it was obvious that once Ameno got going it was hard for him to back off. “The headlines just got even better, you pathetic excuse for an officer,” he said, sending Lane charging again.

  Maro slammed his cell phone onto the table, bits of shattered, overpriced plastic pulverized the tension in the room, stopping both men in their tracks.

  “Do I have to remind you two this is a high-profile murder investigation? Calm your egos and sit the hell down.”

  Ameno huffed and adjusted his jacket and then his tie and returned to his place against the wall. The animosity in the room was undeniable. Lane, again massaging his temples, cleared his throat. “Does he need to be in here?”

  “He’s a detective on this case.”

  “I’d prefer just to speak with you, assuming you’re the lead. He can watch from the hall if he’d like but I refuse to be treated like a goddamn criminal. I’ve come here on my own terms and have no problem lawyering up with the precinct if necessary.”

  Maro turned his attention to Ameno and nodded his head to the door. Scoffing, Ameno kicked back at the wall, punching his fists. His glare never left Lane as he left the room, placing his own phone down on the table to record the conversation since Maro had busted his.

  The remaining detectives sat quietly, Lane taking in a few shallow breaths.

  “Detective Bene, may we begin?”

  Lane nodded. “I’ve told you most of my history with Brad right up to the moments before he was killed. We were lifelong friends; our fathers were friends. I would have happily taken that bullet for him.”

  “Yes, you have been extremely cooperative but our questions today are more focused on your current relationship with Brad’s widow, Ara Hopkins. You know we need to work all scenarios and consider any possible motive that presents itself.”

  “I am aware.” Lane would cooperate for sure, but he was not going to give the detective more than he needed to. “Ara and I have grown closer since Brad’s death, that’s true. It could be because she’s lonely, missing someone in her life. She’s estranged from her mother and was close with her father, but he passed. With Raina as a stepsister, and your partner following her around town, it’s my guess she’s looking for someone she trusts to keep close to her.”

  “She’s uncomfortable with the amount of questions from the department?”

  Lane shifted in his seat. “Not just the department. The media, Congressman Bugia, her mother and friends. Everyone wants a piece of her these days.”

  “So you’re shielding her from the questioning, keeping her company?”

  “Something like that.”

  Maro shifted through his folder, pulling out what Lane could see was the official report from forensics.

  “Your prints were found on the gun, Detective.”

  “I would imagine they would’ve been. I told you the first night, Brad and I bought the gun together, practiced at a shooting range down in Lakewood over last summer. Something I’m sure you also have verified by now.”

  Lane could tell Maro was mulling over his answer. “Mmm hmm. So, you taught your best friend how to use the weapon that ultimately killed him? Does that make you feel any sense of responsibility in his death?”

  “Why would it? He wanted to learn how to protect himself. And Ara. He worked with a lot of high-profile clients in some mucky situations. Some of them even had friends that most people would not want to encounter on the street.”

  Just then, Ameno returned to the room, mumbling an apology before sitting back at the table. Lane was willing to accept the small victory before continuing, “He said he had clients that were angry and the opposing sides often viewed Brad as the enemy. Some even went as far to think that the financial wins he organized for his clients were the same as stealing from them. Not to mention his involvement with his father on the political side of his job. Some people viewed it as double dipping or unethical. Brad knew this, learned the hard way after a few encounters that it could make him a target, and wanted to protect himself.”

  Ameno asked, “Any specific parties make threats to Mr. Bugia?”

  “Not that I know of, not that he would tell me. We were on somewhat opposite sides of the law. Our conversations mostly revolved around sports and craft beer.”

  “Couple of good ’ole boys, huh?” Ameno snorted.

  “Like I said, we’ve known each other since childhood. We knew what we wanted to talk about and what we didn’t when we got together.”

  “The friggin’ New York Yankees?” Maro shot Ameno a warning look.

  “Rangers, Giants, you name it,” Lane replied sarcastically.

  “Were you aware of the fact the Brad Bugia and Raina Martin were having a pretty intense affair?”

  While it should not have been surprising, Lane nearly choked on his own saliva. What would someone with a wife like Ara ever see in that tramp? He knew the shock was sitting unmistakably on his face. “I was not, Ara would be devastated. I knew he was having an affair, or many for that matter, but I didn’t know he was involved with Raina.”

  Ameno tossed the stack of smut-filled emails across the table. Lane spun the forms around and scanned quickly through the evidence hoping it would reveal some sort of mix up. Why would his friend go looking in the gutter and put his marriage on the line for a girl like Raina Martin? Nothing special or significant about her whatsoever, though he guessed that was true of all mistresses.

  “You’re saying Ms. Hopkins does not know.”

  Lane could feel his heart racing. “She hasn’t said anything about it. I’m not entirely sure she could handle finding out news like this.”

  “Not handle it, like you think that maybe she could snap?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Lane wished he could bring his best friend back from the dead just to kick the shit of him and send him back six feet under. “She is mourning, seems a little lost. Her entire world fell at her feet. I’m just saying it would hurt her deeply to lose another person close to her. It was no secret Brad was a bit of a playboy but with her family, I would imagine that is an entire different level of hurt.”

  Maro retrieved the emails, tapped the bottom of the sheets to even the pages and tucked them back into the file. “He wasn’t exactly hiding it, Bene. Anyone with some decent wherewithal could have found out what we know.”

  Lane paused. “Ara is trusting. She wouldn’t dig out stuff like this.”

  “Maybe so, Lane. Or maybe she has you fooled, too. Have you considered that?”

  “I think you two are barking up the wrong tree. Raina’s much harder than Ara. I’m confident she would do anything to benefit herself.”

  “That is true, but Ara has seen these same emails. We were even nice enough to give her a copy to bring home. She hasn’t mentioned this to you?” Maro paused, narrowing his eyes onto Lane. “Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

  “I would never question Ar
a’s innocence, if that’s what you are saying.”

  Not wanting to consider what the detectives were implying, Lane ended the interview. He was not one hundred percent confident in his statements, despite his best attempt at passing it off that he was. The only thing he was confident about was that Ara wasn’t being completely honest with him.

  CHAPTER 29

  Ara hoped Mr. Goldberg was prepared for the type of crazy he was about to encounter. From the beginning, she had tried to speak with him as little as possible. Something about talking to her lawyer made her feel guilty, so she happily allowed most of the arrangements to be made through her mother. Ara knew Arabelle Ridener and her deep wallet would persuade him to be involved in her new horror-show of a life.

  “Ms. Hopkins, please sit,” Barry said motioning toward an over-sized leather chair across from him. His desk was tucked away in a comfortable corner office in midtown above Park Ave, which was bustling with the corporate afternoon foot traffic that came with the central location. Ara moved hesitantly toward the chair and extended her right hand to shake his.

  “Ara. It's a pleasure.” Ara loosely gripped his right hand, hoping they hadn’t met in those first days. If they did, she didn’t remember, making her fear she was far worse than she thought back then.

  “You’ve been a difficult one to track down as of late, Ara,” Barry said, leaning back in his chair.

  “I apologize, but I’m sure you can imagine this has all been a lot for me to take in.” Ara cleared her throat.

  “My daughter has been through so much, Barry, the detectives are tailing her, they’re approaching her on the streets when she’s trying to move on with her life and enjoy a simple birthday brunch with my stepdaughter.”

  Ara’s eyes shot to her mother as a silent warning sign to let her speak.

  “Yes, I can imagine. These types of situations are not ones most people are prepared for,” he said, pausing before continuing, “and many times normal life doesn’t seem so normal after the fact.”