ROXANNE SMILED at the little girl through the plastic and felt a zing run through her at the bright smile she received in response.
“I watched the Celtics game yesterday on TV.” Lindy vibrated with excitement. “That is until Da—Paul came to bring me some presents.” She frowned.
Roxanne sat in the chair beside the BCNU tent. She reached her hand into the rubber glove that extended inside to stroke the girl’s head and was treated with another smile. No way was she going to pay attention to Al’s recommendation that she stay away. Especially not since her police interview had gone so well and they hadn’t arrested her like everyone feared.
This girl was such an innocent, wearing all her deepest emotions out in the open, exposed for all to see. How could she possibly be Barry’s daughter? But then Roxanne had to scold herself for not allowing Barry the benefit of the doubt. He’d had ample chances to lose his innocence somewhere along the way since childhood. After all, she’d lost her own when her mother died.
She welled with fresh admiration for Lindy. She lost her mother and she cried about it, often at night, according to the nurses. But most of the time she’d remained a charming, upbeat little girl.
“You can still call Paul Daddy for now, Lindy. The jury is still out on that one.”
“I want to call them both Daddy.”
“That’s a good idea. You’re a very lucky little girl to have two daddies aren’t you?” Roxanne confronted the issue rather than dance around it. The psychiatrist had advised it was the best way to handle Lindy’s family situation so there’d be no surprises. As long as she was getting enough love and attention, she wouldn’t be harmed by it—theoretically.
At least Roxanne would do her part to provide attention and as much love as she had in her for the girl. She had to admit she was impressed with Paul’s commitment to the child. She knew Barry still wondered if Lindy would be better off with Paul than himself in spite of his promise to step up.
“My mother said the same thing. She said Barry gave me my genes and Paul gave me everything else. I think genes count most don’t you? My mother said I was lucky to get such good genes and a good example too. But I’m not sure what she meant.” The little girl grimaced as she shifted uncomfortably. “It hurts a lot today, Roxanne. They did an examination on me.” She paused before continuing tentatively. “I cried a lot. It was too hard not to.”
Roxanne took Lindy’s hand and tried not to cry herself. Her heart squeezed at Lindy’s words. Struggling for a bright note, she searched her mind for a change of subject. “What did you think of your dad’s basketball game?”
“Bar—I mean Daddy—played terrible didn’t he? One of the nurses watched it with me and kept saying that everyone has an off day. But the announcers weren’t very nice saying all kinds of bad things about him. I didn’t like that. But it was fun to watch when he scored baskets.”
Roxanne was charmed by the changing expressions on the girl’s face. She laughed and nodded her head in agreement. She’d wished she hadn’t stayed for that game yesterday afternoon.
“Yeah. I know what you mean. It wasn’t a picnic to watch in person either. I didn’t have to listen to announcers, but some of the fans heckled the team.”
“What’s heckled mean?”
“Saying bad stuff about the players. But they have to realize those guys are people just like you and me and they can’t be great all the time, right?” Roxanne wasn’t at all sure what Lindy thought of Barry, but she wanted to be sure she got as real a picture as a kid could get about a high-visibility superstar that everyone else seemed to talk about.
“I guess so.” Then she looked at Roxanne, obviously getting ready to say something big. “Roxanne?”
“Mmm hmm?”
“Where am I going to live when I get out of the hospital? Am I going to live with Daddy or Paul?” The little girl needed reassurance and Roxanne quickly searched her mind for some kind of comforting answer to the impossible question.
“I’m not sure, honey. But what I am sure of is that you will live with someone who loves you very much, whoever it is. Okay?” Roxanne held her breath and watched Lindy’s face. It was the best she could do for an answer to that loaded question right now. Barry hadn’t been sticking to the schedule Al had set up, and Paul Paris knew it. Everyone was speculating on the subject of the custody suit these days, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear the question from Lindy.
“Who do you want to live with, honey?” Roxanne couldn’t resist the quiet inquiry.
“I want my mother.” Tears glistened in Lindy’s eyes as she struggled not to cry.
“It’s all right to cry, honey. I know what you mean. I wish I had my mother right now, too.” Roxanne stroked the girl’s cheek, comforting her the best she could from the wrong side of the plastic. She wished she could give the little girl a big hug, but she didn’t dare take the liberty of removing the plastic like Barry had. When she’d lost her mother she was older and she’d had Bonnie, but she could imagine the girl’s suffering. If it weren’t for those damned germs. When Lindy opened her eyes and looked up at her finally with a wan smile, she realized she had let a few tears escape too.
The nurse came in then with lunch and Roxanne prepared to feed her. Thank goodness Lindy turned the conversation to more innocuous subjects while she ate. Roxanne wasn’t sure she could survive another of the little girl’s test questions.
Lunch was nearly finished when Harry came in and walked slowly up to the pair with a furrowed brow. “Roxanne, I have to speak with you about something.”
Roxanne left the nurse to finish the meal with Lindy and immediately stepped into the hall with Harry. Her mind was a blank at what it could be about. There were too many things that had gone wrong lately, so she waited for him to speak as he fidgeted with his tie.
“Dr. Evans wants to see you in his office now. It’s about this police investigation of Don’s murder. They’ve been to the hospital questioning people.”
“Don was not murdered, Harry. Don’t you go around saying that, too. Al and I had a very long talk with the detective and I thought for sure we had him convinced. I can’t see what he possibly hopes to find out by questioning people here.” Roxanne was more than annoyed, although she tried not to take it out on poor Harry.
“Yeah, well he seemed pretty interested in your love life, if you want to know the line of questioning.”
“I guess I’d be foolish to think he’d take my word about that subject. Even though I’m the only one who really knows anything about it. All he’s going to find here is speculation, rumors, and gossip. Harry, do you know he grilled me for hours about it, asking some very personal questions? And he expected answers?” She grew angry at the memory. But anger felt better than panic.
Harry shook his head and his frown grew deeper, if that were possible. When he patted her back, she knew she was in trouble.
“Roxy, if you want me to come with you to Evans’s office, I will. I’ll stay right there with you even if he wants me to leave.”
This was too much. She turned to the big Potato Head of a man and gave him a hug, as much because she loved him as to hide the tears that had the audacity to show up now. Roxanne straightened from his grasp without a sniffle and looked straight into his sad, wise eyes.
“Thank you, Harry. I’ll never forget that offer. But I’ll face Dr. Evans alone. All he can do is fire me.” She smiled a genuine smile at that and sighed as Harry nodded in admiration. Then she walked down the hall to the elevators to go to the office of the Chairman of the Board of Children’s Mercy Hospital. Without looking back.
The feeling of uneasiness didn’t overtake her until she was almost inside the office. Then the familiar clenching in her gut returned. She’d walked all that way with only determination arming her to face whatever she had to hear. But as soon as her mind started clicking in, anticipating the worst and dreading the consequences, it took a much greater determination to make her legs carry her inside the door
to what she was now sure was to be the doom of her volunteer fund-raising career.
She squared her shoulders, looked down at her attire and laughed. She’d been dressed only for visiting with Lindy that day. She wore jeans and a sweater. At least it was the right color. Black.
She pushed the door open and walked in. Standing in front of his secretary’s desk, she folded her arms in front of her and steeled herself for the worse. She ignored the constriction in her throat. Her nerves jumped and her stomach felt like a Maytag. The young woman told her in a very quiet voice to go in. Roxanne looked once at the door with the man’s name and title on it. She took a deep breath to settle herself, then proceeded inside.
She wore no smile and no frown. She felt no dread. She felt absolutely noting. It was almost as if she were orchestrating her movements from outside her body. She’d detached herself from physical feeling.
The heels of her boots sank quietly into the deep carpet of the office as she entered the office. The doctor seemed absorbed with the papers on his desk. She stopped only when she came smack up against that desk and then, to be sure she had his attention, she sat on the edge of it. Poised with one leg crossed over the other and her arms crossed in front of her chest, she glanced down at the balding man as he glanced back up at her.
He was startled and pushed himself back in his chair. Before he could open his mouth to say a word, Roxanne spoke.
“Harry said you wanted to see me. I happened to be in the office today.” She returned his cold stare and stood to watch him look her over with his distaste obvious behind his glasses.
“Today will be your last day in the office.” He pursed his lips unpleasantly as he removed his glasses.
In spite of all the mental coaching, all the instinctual cool poise in the world didn’t prepare her to actually hear the words. All the physical detachment disappeared. She felt the blood drain from her as if he’d pulled a plug. She knew she must have gone white. She trembled. As she looked at the man in front of her, she ordered herself to stop. There was no way she was going to allow herself to fall apart in front of him. She didn’t know what he had against her, but there was something. She wasn’t about to allow him any satisfaction—at least not any more than he’d already gotten.
“It’ll be more your loss than mine.” She flicked her wrist in his direction, stood and turned toward the door.
“Don’t you even want to know why you’re being dismissed?” He spoke the word as if it had eight syllables instead of two. She felt the knife twist in her gut, but she refused to let him see that.
“Can’t handle the police, I assume. Don’t have the guts to stand behind a long-time volunteer fund-raiser for the hospital. Stop me when I’m getting warm.” She’d turned around to face him again. She didn’t bother hiding her distaste at the weakness she accused him of. He didn’t flinch. But she could see the tension in his jaw. She knew this wasn’t turning out to be nearly as much fun for him as it was supposed to be.
“You’re wrong. I would stand up for someone if I thought they deserved it. If I thought she was innocent,” he said.
She couldn’t remain cool in the face of his implication that she was a murderer. She turned to stare him down. There was not a cool corner left in her mind or in her being. But luckily, she held her tongue for a second, and for once in her life, thought first before she spoke. And then she spoke very quietly.
“I hope you get all the enjoyment you can out of this moment, Dr. Evans, because it will be your last moment of joy for a while. Without me you’ll be sweating out every penny until you get that research wing of yours built. And when this police investigation blows over, I will still be around to haunt you. I promise.” With one last glare at the man, she turned and walked out, heart hammering in her chest.
Of course, as she drove out of the hospital parking garage, she realized she hadn’t a clue what she meant by haunting the man. But it felt good saying those words to him. What she really needed to do was prove she was no murderer. There must be some way to find out what really happened the night Don died.
Bonnie waited in the doorway, arms folded, when she arrived home. Never a good sign.
“Where have you been? Everyone has been calling looking for you! Did you lose your cell phone? Al called. Laura called. And Harry called. He told me what happened.” Bonnie followed her inside the kitchen as she squeezed past the woman. “They were needlessly worried and I told them so. You’re the last person who would jump from a bridge.”
That comment made Roxanne stop in her tracks. “I’ll call Laura right away.” She unceremoniously plopped into a kitchen chair and fished for her phone from her bag. She bit her lip, but had to ask. “Did Barry call?” She wanted to talk to him. Not about their fund-raising project and not about Lindy.
“No. But everyone else did.”
“Shit.” Roxanne put her head down on her arms on the table in front of her as she listened to her cell ringing on Laura’s end. There was no answer. She clicked off without leaving a message. She didn’t want to talk to anyone but Barry. She wanted to go to him and lose herself in their lovemaking for the rest of the night—and all the next day for that matter. Maybe even forever.
What the hell was she thinking?
She felt Bonnie’s glare on her back and lifted her head, dry-eyed. And glad. She was very glad that her temporary insanity was over with. Almost glad about the murder accusation shoe dropping. She felt relieved. She’d known it would happen sooner or later and now that it was out there, she could fight it.
“Bonnie, I could use a drink. How about you?”
“You going to tell me about it? Or do I have to guess where you’ve been all this time?” Bonnie’s concern showed through her annoyance. Roxanne felt touched. She noticed Bonnie’s bleached curls were particularly unruly as the woman poured them each a dose of Courvoisier from the Baccarat decanter. What had that been doing on the kitchen counter?
“I’ll have to tell you because you’ll never guess.” Roxanne accepted the glass and downed the entire healthy amount of liquid as if it were medicine. She never drank. But it felt warm right now and she could do with some warmth. She looked at Bonnie. Bonnie was not a warm person. But right now Roxanne could feel the heat radiating from the woman. Or was it just the Cognac?
“You were at Barry’s?” Bonnie sat opposite her, still looking annoyed.
“I wish. No. I was at the TV studio quitting my job. Of course Hank was very nice about it. The police hadn’t been there yet, so he didn’t realize the extent of the problem. He’d brushed aside all the speculation about the wrongful death suit—especially since it had such a positive affect on ratings. Besides, he never believes anything the media says since he knows better.
“He said to look him up again when things blew over. He told me he knows I’m no murderer. Wasn’t that nice? I thanked him.” She paused and chuckled at Bonnie’s deepened frown.
“But I’m not going to count on that job when I get out of jail in ten to fifteen,” she added. And then Bonnie laughed too.
“Quit being so maudlin. I’m sure they’d give you time off for good behavior,” Bonnie pointed out and then poured more brandy into their glasses. They had to laugh now—or cry.
Aah, the wonders of alcohol. “What did Al want when he called? Did he come up with a surefire defense yet?”
“Who knows? But Laura had some interesting things to say about Dr. Evans. Everyone at the hospital knows about your abrupt departure. And right in the middle of the big fund-raising campaign too.” Bonnie shook her head as if in disbelief. But Roxanne knew that her cynical mind could be surprised by none of this.
Wondering at Bonnie’s purposely abbreviated version of Laura’s message, Roxanne decided to call Laura again. This time she got her.
“Roxy, where have you been?” Laura sounded breathless.
“I’m waiting.”
“I’ve been down in the accounting office with Harry all afternoon. The last check I wrote on the accou
nt bounced. Our account with the bank for the special project is bone dry. They said down in the accounting office that they’d transferred the money into the building project account per order of Dr. Evans. He that the research fund account owed money to the building account per an agreement between you and him.
“Bottom line is, we have no cash and it will be a couple of weeks before the pledges start coming in. I don’t think we can wait that long to confirm the airtime. We already scheduled it and the shoot too. You didn’t tell him he could have the money for his building project, did you?”
Roxanne felt cold rage grab her muscles and wind them like weapons ready for launch.
“I never made any such deal with him. I never told him he could have the money or even borrow it.” She took a breath. Time to think. Time to calculate a trap. “What does Harry think about this? He saw the paperwork for the fund-raising event. He knows there was nothing in the documents about giving money to the building project.”
“Harry thinks Evans blackmailed you into giving it to him before he fired you today. I’m so relieved to hear that you weren’t forced into signing anything.”
“Then it’ll be easy to track the money and prove the impropriety.”
“Nothing is easy. Something doesn’t add up. He could get into big trouble spending the money on something the donors were falsely asked to give for. Especially the larger pledges.”
Roxanne stood and paced around the kitchen table while Bonnie sat sipping her drink and watching as if she were at a show.
“So how much exactly are we missing?”
“I’m out 750k. Harry said he would get Accounting on it right away to track down and report on all the transfers into the building account—not just from yours. And all the expenditures too. He’s suddenly suspicious that Evans might be embezzling. In the meantime, what do I do about all the cash I need? Right now? I need 200 grand by tomorrow to keep the campaign going. Any ideas?”
Roxanne thought for only a split second before she came up with several ideas. “Laura, you’re forgetting. I don’t work there anymore.” Laura didn’t make one sound on the other end. Roxanne’s mind ticked with precision as all effects of the brandy vanished.
Playing the Game Page 26
