by James Ross
“Bombon, what’s wrong?”
“What?”
“You’re tight and tense. I can feel it in your neck and shoulders.”
“Stress I guess. I’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
“It’s not worth it, Bombon.”
“It’s the divorce. It’s dragging out. I want to move on with my life.” Shari savored the feel of his hands. “And Tyler Cy is such an ass.” She playfully shook her bottom. “But Richie won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me more and more.”
“You don’t have it bad, Bombon. Many people out there envy what you have.”
“I can’t wait to get rid of it. The way I feel right now Tyler Cy can have it all and Richie is going to have to understand he is history.”
“Careful what you wish for.”
Raul slowly applied pressure to her spine and tapped her back with a series of forceful but controlled chops. “This is to die for.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I wrenched it taking my golf lesson. My instructor changed my posture and my stance and the ball position.”
“I don’t understand. Golf is not physical.”
“I guess it is kind of like those baseball players that get hurt when they sneeze or towel off after a shower. The muscles are so fine-tuned that a little variance can cause a nagging injury.” Shari rolled her neck from side to side after Raul applied pressure on her upper shoulder. “I seen where Basilio got hurt once walking to first base.”
Raul laughed heartily. “We kidded him about tripping over the chalk.”
“What happened?”
“He stepped on the edge of the grass where it met the dirt baseline and turned his ankle. He had to go on the 15-day disabled list.”
“And he wants how much money?”
“Millions. He wants to break the baseball bank and be the highest paid ball player in history.”
“Goodbye St. Louis. The Cardinals can’t afford that. They don’t have the TV market.”
“That’s what he wants.”
“He’s got it made here. What was it you said a few minutes ago?”
“What?”
“Be careful what you wish for. If he goes to an east or west coast team he won’t like it as much as he does here. Ow!” Shari yelped after Raul applied pressure to her upper back and hit a nerve. “There it is. That must be the source of the problem.”
Raul concentrated on that area as Shari moaned in part because she hurt and in part because it felt good. “Give it 48 to 72 hours, Bombon. You’ll feel better by the weekend.”
“Mmm,” she purred. “I needed this.” Shari’s eyelids were heavy. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive. This feels so good.”
Raul scooted the robe up to her neck and playfully chopped on her back. “That’s it, Bombon. I’m tired too.”
“Are you sleeping at the apartment tonight?”
“Of course. But I have to go home first and get a few things. I’m going to wait until she’s asleep and sneak in, get what I need and go to the apartment.”
“I’d come over but I’m too tired for sex.”
“That’s fine. There’s another day for that.”
Shari got dressed, gave Raul a gentle peck on the lips and headed for her car. He watched as she drove off the lot. He locked the door and returned to the massage room to clean up.
It was a few minutes later. He noted the time because it was just after Basilio knocked a home run in the bottom of the ninth to win the game for the Cardinals. The message alert on his iPhone called him to the front desk.
I’ll help you get rid of the bitch
Raul didn’t know whether or not to respond. He was tired and wanted to get a decent night’s sleep. Running out of his own home had not been easy for him either. He picked up the phone and put his fingers to work.
Let’s not do this tonight. I’m tired. It’s late
He knew that answering the text was going to lead to more problems. All he wanted to do was end the nonsense.
BS! Screw her! She’s getting in the way
Raul stared at the screen then reluctantly continued the texting.
Not tonight
The screen blinked immediately.
I’m ready to go on w my life
Raul put the phone down. That was it.
The bitch has to go
He read the message but didn’t send a return text.
If u don’t have the balls I’ll end it for her
Another alert sounded.
She doesn’t deserve to live
If u won’t stab her I will
We’ll butcher her
Chapter Forty-Three
Wednesday night was no picnic for Shari. She tossed and turned all night. Being accused of something that she did not do did not sit well with her. She arrived at the Clayton office of Detectives Mullen and Basnahan and wanted to find out more about the paperwork that had been turned over to the judge.
Lester J was five foot eleven with broad shoulders that carried a well-developed chest and biceps. His smile was cordial. It reflected his mid-Missouri roots. His early life existed in and around Mexico, Missouri straight up State Highway 54 about 45 miles north of the state capitol in Jefferson City. He attended a military prep school, played by the rules and was as straight-laced as a tenor in the Vienna choir. Lester J chose a career in law enforcement, finished his schooling at the University of Missouri in Columbia with honors, and accepted an apprenticeship with the St. Louis County PD. No one could ever remember hearing a swear word come out of his mouth. He was the perfect “good cop.”
If there was a detective that could look the part, gain the trust of a suspect, and have the temperament to switch a hostile line of questioning to friendly then Lester J was the man. His partner M T Basnahan, known as Bazz, was the classic “bad cop.” He was an inch and a half shorter and weighed 145. His look was as clean as a Boy Scout’s and he had a smart-aleck mouth that could get under the skin of the accused.
Under the protection of a badge Bazz could run his mouth with the best of them. With heat packed in his belt his talk was brave and tough. And he could be as annoying as a buzzing gnat. If Lester J was like Andy Taylor then Bazz was like Barney Fife of fictional Mayberry.
He grew up 20 miles south of Lester J in Fulton, Missouri. His career path was similar, as was his background. There was something about mid-Missouri folk that the public admired. They both had common sense, a passion for church and family, as well as a solid work ethic. They cared. Each wanted to make the world a better place.
“Did your memory get better after a couple of nights’ sleep?” Bazz asked Shari as she took a seat.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night. And I don’t have anything new to offer today,” Shari said.
“She has been back several times,” Lester J offered.
“Who?”
“Ms. Svahnstrom. There have been five more complaints filed. We expect the judge to issue more orders of protection,” Bazz said. “We’ll be back again someday to serve you.”
“You have to believe me, officers. I have had nothing to do with this.” Her theatrics produced tearful eyes.
Bazz and Lester J shared a glance. Their minds mirrored each other’s thoughts. They all say that.
“There is no way that I could have sent her threatening texts.” Shari opened her purse, fetched her cell phone and laid it on the table. “You can have this. There aren’t any texts to that person on here.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Bazz replied.
“How much more complicated can it be?”
Bazz and Lester J couldn’t share the information that they had. The texts actually weren’t being received by Tindra. They were being received by Raul. They knew that Shari’s phone would have no texts directly to Tindra. “We can’t provide you with the evidence that we have,” Lester J followed.
Shari exploded. “What do you mean you can’t provide the evidence?”
“That’s not our job,
” Lester J answered. “We can’t provide evidence to an accused.”
“The evidence is provided to the court. It is their decision,” Bazz added.
“Then take my phone as evidence. There is not one threatening text message on this.” Shari scooted the phone across the table to Bazz.
Bazz challenged her. “Anybody can delete messages on a cell phone.”
“Then have your tech experts go back in the history and retrieve the trash,” Shari blurted. “This phone is my phone. It is clean. It will prove that I have had nothing to do with this. I want this order of protection dropped.”
“We can’t challenge what the courts have directed us to do,” Lester J said. “We can take your statement and provide it to the court, but we cannot do anything about what they have issued.”
“Right now it is a civil matter between you and Ms. Svahnstrom,” Bazz said. “There is going to be a day where you’re going to have to face the facts, change your behavior, and knock it off. You’ve already been presented with a summons to appear in court. That is the day that you’ll be able to present your side of the story to the judge.”
“And I’ll be there! I’m meeting my attorney for lunch and he may damn well decide that we’ll be back this afternoon.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Tyler Cy was right. Shari’s divorce attorney wanted nothing to do with the order of protection. As much as they were adversaries in the divorce, Tyler Cy wanted to give his wife a chance in a very embarrassing situation. One of his real estate attorneys referred him to a low-key lawyer named Seth Montgomery who had connections in the jurisdiction of St. Louis County.
At lunch Seth assured Shari that the matters in the court would go smoothly. There was an order of business. Formalities would take place. She could present her side of the story and so on and so forth. He expected the judge to continue the case and assign a new date for a trial.
Shari was anxious. She looked forward to meeting Tindra Svahnstrom and wanted to come face to face with her accuser. She was hopeful that Detectives Mullen and Basnahan had given her statement to the judge and she looked forward to proving her innocence.
Two weeks later, as most often is the case, Tindra did not show up in court. Her attorney, David Saunders, made a presentation instead. He produced all of the complaints that Tindra had filed. The judge had no choice but to issue more orders of protection, just as Bazz and Lester J had predicted.
Saunders was not quite finished. “Your honor, I’d like to also submit this to the court.”
“What is it?” the Honorable Mark D. White asked.
Tindra’s attorney waved a paper. “This is a warrant for the arrest of Ms. Shari Daniels-Donnelly.”
“On what grounds?” Judge White asked.
“Mrs. Daniels-Donnelly has committed a violation of the first order of protection that was served to her two weeks ago.”
Unpredictable events can always occur. This bombshell was unexpected. “The court will take a ten minute recess. Please meet me in my chambers.” Tindra’s attorney, as well as Seth Montgomery, followed the Honorable Mark D. White out of the courtroom. The judge was perturbed. “What happened now?”
“She violated the first order of protection.”
“I know that!” the judge barked. “How?”
“More texts have been sent to my client’s live-in threatening her life. When my client filed her complaints she brought in his cell phone as proof. You’ve seen the manuscript of what was texted. They include a date and time stamp. They’ve come after the first order of protection was served. That’s why you issued five more orders of protection. You have no choice. You have to arrest her.”
The Honorable Mark D. White read the warrant and turned to Seth. “Is your client not aware of what she is doing?”
“She’s assured me that she is not sending the text messages. In fact she has met with Detectives Mullen and Basnahan and has turned over her phone as evidence.”
The judge shook his head and glanced at the arrest warrant. “This piece of paper leaves me no choice.” Seth understood. The trio left the chambers and returned to the courtroom.
Shari sat in a daze unable to fathom what had transpired over the last five minutes. When she saw the solemn face of her attorney she suspected that something unforeseen was going to come down.
The Honorable Mark D. White had the stage. “Due to a recent circumstance, which has been a violation of the first order of protection, this court has no choice but to allow for the arrest of Ms. Shari Daniels-Donnelly. Bailiff.” He nodded. “Court dismissed.” The gavel exploded on the bench.
Shari stood and yelled, “What! You can’t do this! Don’t you know who I am?”
Shari was dressed, bejeweled, and coiffed to perfection, but none of it could help her now. The bailiff ordered her to place her hands behind her back and cuffed her. She was led out the door and sent to jail.
Chapter Forty-Five
Shari was livid. Spending a Monday night in jail wearing an orange jumpsuit was not her idea of a fun evening. She took advantage of her free call and contacted Tyler Cy. That and some quick work by Seth expedited the process. She went into a cell around four in the afternoon. By the time the paperwork was processed and Tyler Cy had put up four thousand dollars cash as bail, she was to be released from the county jail around six-thirty the next morning.
It was fourteen and a half hours she never wanted to relive.
It was Tuesday morning. Tyler Cy had arranged for the courier service that he used for real estate services to shuttle him down to the police station. He had taken a change of clothes for Shari and even though she looked quite attractive checking out of jail she was as grumpy as ever.
“Do you have time for breakfast?” Tyler Cy offered.
“What are you talking about? You know I don’t eat anything in the morning.”
“I thought you might like an opportunity to get some decent food. I wouldn’t think that they would serve anything of high quality in that place.”
“No! I don’t want anything to eat. I don’t have an appetite. I need to get going.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Today is ladies day at the golf course. We tee off at nine. Get me home so I can pick up Ashlyn and get to Prairie Winds.” She was racing to the cab while Tyler Cy limped behind. “Hurry up!” The pair got situated; Tyler Cy in the back and Shari in front. “You know, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t cancelled the membership at Olde Blueblood.”
It was just as well the conversation stalled on the way back to their residence. Anything out of Shari’s mouth was going to sting. It started back up though after the driver helped Tyler Cy to the doorstep and pulled out of the driveway.
“I’m going to find out who this bitch is and never let her forget about what she has done to me. How humiliating!”
“It just goes to show you that anything can happen in a courtroom.”
“Somebody has framed me and I don’t have a clue as to who it is. You can bet I’ll get everything in motion when I get back later this afternoon. I’ll get Seth to track down the paperwork. I’ll hire a private investigator. We’ll locate whoever it is and file our own stuff.” The barrage continued. Out of habit she grabbed her purse and lit up a cigarette and then she rummaged through her purse. “Dammit! I don’t have a cell phone. The cops have it.”
“Would you like mine?”
“Is it safe for me to use it?” Shari forced a slight grin as she chuckled at her own humor. “Oh, Tyler Cy I didn’t mean it. You’re so innocent about everything.” She snatched it out of his hand and headed for the garage. “I need to call Ashlyn and tell Seth what to do.” She paused for a minute and retracted an earlier statement. “I don’t even know if I’ll come back here after all. I may not be home for a while. Those damn detectives might be back looking for me. The judge issued five more court orders for protection and I’m sure the paperwork will be done sometime soon.” She backed out of the driveway in the Jag.
“Throw some clothes in a suitcase for me. I may have to have them delivered somewhere. I’ll call you later.”
Shari inhaled a large puff and blew the smoke into the air. She looked into the mirror on the visor and primped her hair. Then she backed onto the street and disappeared around the corner as Tyler Cy stood stranded on the front porch.
Chapter Forty-Six
The rest of the morning flew by. Shari and Ashlyn were running late. Her lesson with Curt was more of a ‘Hi-how-are-you?-Sorry-I’m-late.-We’ll-catch-up-next-time’ sort of affair. She went out on the course, played with the ladies, and kept her mouth shut about the affairs of the previous night.
After golf, most of the ladies put their clubs into their car trunk and pulled out of the lot. Shari and Ashlyn chose to go into the clubhouse and have a bite to eat. The regulars were sitting in their familiar corner. It was understood by all that those seats were reserved for them.
Captain Jer was his usual cantankerous self. It was lunchtime. He had to have at least nine to ten beers in his belly. Fred, Pork Chop, Trot, YouWho, and Paco were milling around playing gin and backgammon. Julie was hustling the drinks and serving sandwiches while Curt and J Dub relaxed in the office.
The TV blared in the corner. Usually it was tuned into ESPN and the sports highlights from the night before kept everyone up-to-date on the results of every game played. However at lunchtime Julie wanted to catch the local news at noon. Most people in the clubhouse never paid any attention. It merely served as background chatter.
But today was different.
Local newscaster Paula Stewart (no relation to Tyler Cy’s attorney) was reaching the end of the noon news when she announced, “And once again in the lead story for today, St. Louis County police are asking the public for help in the shooting this morning of Richard W. Richards who was gunned down before daybreak in a commuter parking lot off Interstate 270.”
A picture of Richard W. Richards was placed on the screen.
