Unmerited Favor: The Compassion and Peril of Mercy ( Un missable Series Book 2)

by Jerry Summers

  After her stop at the market, she returns to the penthouse. When she walks in, she is greeted by the wonderful smell of baking lasagna and sees Bonnie finishing a salad.

  Wendy gives Bonnie a surprised look. “What are you doing? I thought we were going to have cheese, crackers, and wine and watch a chick flick.”

  “We can still do that. But, girl, you have nothing in your fridge, and you need to start eating better.”

  “Oh, and lasagna, garlic bread, and salad is eating better? I’m gaining weight just looking at it. By the way, it smells wonderful.”

  “Then put the cheese away for another day, and let’s enjoy a real meal together. Tonight’s on me,” Bonnie replies, grinning and tossing Italian dressing into the lettuce.

  “You don’t have to convince me. Besides, after a large meal and wine, I always sleep better.”

  Bonnie nods in agreement. “So how were your clients today?”

  “Actually, it was a really strange day,” Wendy replies, taking the glass of wine Bonnie offers and sitting down on the couch with her.

  “How so?”

  “Well, do you remember the client I met with this morning? She asked me to speak with her husband this afternoon, and I agreed to try to talk to him. I figured he wouldn’t speak with me because I was talking to him about an addiction issue he has. But he greeted me cordially, so maybe I made some progress with him. Then when I was in the hospital to visit my other client, two San Diego Police detectives walked into her room and informed her that her husband was dead from a gunshot wound to the chest, and they believe it was self-inflicted.” Wendy shakes her head, feigning disbelief.

  “Oh, how horrible!”

  “You know, it was my impression she was more relieved than upset. Of course she was in shock and distraught at first, but as more information came out, she appeared better.”

  “You did say he was abusive, and that’s why she was in the hospital in the first place, right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Well, if it was me and my husband had put me in the hospital, I’d be glad he killed himself,” Bonnie muses, sipping her wine.

  “They aren’t sure it was a suicide and won’t be until all the forensic tests are done, but they said there wasn’t any reason to believe it was anything other than suicide.”

  “One thing is for certain. Your client sure as hell didn’t kill him, because she was in the hospital.”

  Wendy laughs. “Yes, that fact is clearly documented.”

  The oven timer beeps, and Bonnie puts the food on the preset dinner table, tops off their wine, and offers a toast. They clink their glasses, and Wendy says, “Wow. Thank you for preparing this fine meal. I haven’t had a good home-cooked meal since the last time you were here, actually.”

  Bonnie gives her a look. “Then I guess I need to come more often to guarantee you’re eating properly.”

  “You are definitely welcome anytime,” Wendy says, smiling, and then she takes a bite. “Oh, my God! This is fantastic!”

  “Oh, good. I’m glad you like it. I don’t cook much anymore, so I wasn’t sure I still could pull off a decent meal.”

  “Cook for me anytime.”

  The two of them had finished eating and cleaning up when Wendy’s phone rings. “Oh, it’s a client. I have to take this…do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Bonnie says, heading back for the couch.

  “Hello? Tina?”

  Sobbing comes over the line.

  “Oh, my gosh. OK, take a deep breath and slow down. What’s wrong?”

  Tina slows her breathing, then explains, “Harder is dead.” She sobs some more before breathing again. “I waited to come home after work today, after everything, and when I finally walked in the front door, I found Harder on the floor with slobber running down his face. I saw a hype kit on the coffee table and a packet that obviously contained heroin or cocaine or both, and the tourniquet was in his chair. He was pale white, cold to the touch, and his lips were blue. When I rolled him over, he was stiff, and the left side of his face was purple. When the paramedics arrived, they told me there was no pulse. They tried the defibrillator, then loaded him on the gurney and rushed him to the Tri-City Medical Center. The emergency room doctor pronounced him dead on arrival. I’m at home now, and the Oceanside Police Department is here, searching the house for any more drugs.”

  “Did you give them permission to search your house?”

  “Yes, I did. Otherwise, they said they would get a search warrant, and I wouldn’t be able to be in the house until after they were done. I told them I’ve got nothing to hide and to go ahead.”

  “Good, that was wise of you.”

  “I know. I’ve done this before,” Tina says, sniffling.

  “This is horrible. Do you need me to come over?”

  “No, but the police said they will want to talk to you tomorrow. Should I give them your number?”

  “Just tell them I’ll be in my office most of tomorrow. My sister-in-law is here. I have to take her to the airport in the morning. I’ll be in the office by eleven. They can come by my office after that. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll call you tomorrow and set up another appointment with you later. Right now, I just want to be alone.”

  Wendy sighs. “OK. You can call me day or night.”

  “Thank you for your support.”

  “Tina, I’m so sorry for your loss, but you’ll get through this.”

  “I hope so. I’ll let the officers know about tomorrow. Good night, Wendy.”

  Wendy hangs up the phone, puts her head between her hands, and lets out a huge sigh.

  Bonnie recognizes that something is wrong immediately. “That didn’t sound good. Are you OK?”

  Wendy looks up and lets tears fill her eyes. “Some days my job just sucks, and today is one of those days.”

  “What happened?”

  “The guy I talked to today overdosed. His wife found him on the living room floor when she got home from work. He was pronounced dead on arrival at Tri-City Medical Center in Oceanside. Apparently, Oceanside Police Department wants to speak with me tomorrow, probably about my visit with him today.”

  “Holy shit. Do you need an attorney?”

  Wendy sighs. “No. This is just standard protocol, because I’m probably one of the last people to see him alive. Damn it! I thought we had made some great progress today. He said he would think about entering an outpatient drug treatment program. I feel like I was just a little too late, and that always pisses me off.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not your fault.”

  “I know, I know. Sometimes it just feels like the work I do is constantly without results.”

  Bonnie rises from the couch and goes to put her arms around Wendy. “You make a difference in so many people’s lives. Let it go. Let’s get drunk and watch a movie with a happy ending.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Wendy pours another glass of merlot for Bonnie and one for her.

  After the movie and two bottles of wine, Bonnie is thoroughly toasted. “I admire you so much,” she tells Wendy. “I can’t imagine the constant stress you must always be under. How in the hell do you do it?”

  “Do what?” Wendy asks, fairly toasted herself.

  “Deal with people in some of the worst circumstances of their lives and still remain sane, not to mention positive. If I had a day like yours, I’d be ready to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

  Wendy giggles. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re afraid of heights!”

  “You know what I mean!” Bonnie retorts, slurring a little.

  Wendy tries to get serious. “Well, first of all, I have had years of formal education and professional training. Second, I have learned I can advise people of options available, but I can’t solve their problems for them. Th
at’s something they have to do for themselves. Finally, I have learned the fine art of detachment. Earlier in my career, if I’d found out two of my clients’ husbands were dead, I would’ve been a wreck. Nowadays, these problems belong to others, and I don’t need to carry their burdens. Unfortunately, I seem to have become somewhat calloused to human tragedy because I’ve decided it’s not my issue.”

  “Hmm. I just don’t think I would be that strong.”

  “Oh, please. Look at you! You lost the love of your life in an unsolved murder and then attended the funeral of a business associate, who died from a disease virtually unheard of in a town with some of the best medical minds around, and you are still going strong. Don’t try to tell me you’re not a strong woman, because I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

  Bonnie considers this. “Well, when you put it that way, we both have been through a lot lately.”

  “Such is life. It’s the way things happen, and we as human beings all do the same thing: we put one foot in front of the other and go on living.”

  Bonnie pours each of them another glass of wine and says, “Well, then, here’s to life. As awful as it can be, it’s better than the alternative.”

  “To life. She can definitely be a vicious bitch.”

  CHAPTER 17

  SECRETS

  Wendy wakes to the smell of fresh coffee and looks at her bedside clock to see that it’s after eight. She jumps out of bed, throws on a robe, and walks into the kitchen. Grabbing a mug, she pours herself some coffee, then downs a gulp along with two Aleve tablets. She looks up and sees Bonnie, put together with flawless makeup and hair, and she mutters, “I slept in. Why didn’t you wake me earlier? Shit, my head hurts this morning.”

  Bonnie smiles, then gets up, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, and hands it to Wendy, who rolls it across her forehead.

  “That’s not what it’s for, dear. Drink it. You’re dehydrated.”

  Wendy sips some of the water. “I’ll just take a quick shower and throw on some jeans and a T-shirt so I can get you to the airport on time.”

  Bonnie sighs. “Of course you will. You know, one of these days you’ll need to dress appropriately and apply some makeup, before you forget how.”

  Wendy raises her hand to stop Bonnie. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but not today. It’s your fault I’m this hungover, so no lectures, OK?”

  “Remember all the advice you gave last night? It’s all about choices, so how is your excessive alcohol consumption my fault?”

  “Oh, shut up,” Wendy mutters as she heads for the shower.

  Bonnie laughs and says, “I love you, too. Wait! I forgot to mention…about all your old clothes?” Wendy nods. “Well, I donated all of them to a women’s organization that shipped them to Latin America for the less fortunate. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Wendy smiles, realizing she’d forgotten about this detail, and things could not have worked out better for her. Bonnie had donated everything, including the clothes she’d worn to pick Arnold up at the bar. She shrugs and smiles. “That seems like a good place for them,” she says, fully content that all the loose ends have been handled.

  When she emerges twenty minutes later, wearing jeans and a T-shirt with Life’s a Beach written across the front, Bonnie takes one look, rolls her eyes, and says, “Really? Don’t you take any pride in your appearance? You must have had this one hidden for me to miss it!”

  “Ugh. Not today, please. I feel like hell.”

  “I’m sorry. You have got to learn the fine art of first impressions. Aren’t you expecting detectives from Oceanside PD this afternoon? What if one is hot and single?”

  “Even if he were Johnny Depp, I wouldn’t be interested today. Besides, I don’t date cops.” She considers for a moment. “Well, OK, if he were Johnny Depp, I’d probably make an exception, but I really don’t like cops.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with them?”

  “They’re all judgmental assholes, and I don’t have time for that shit.” Wendy twists her still damp hair up into a ponytail.

  “Wow, someone is grumpy this morning.”

  “Yeah, so what’s your point?”

  “Do you want me to take a taxi to the airport?”

  Wendy looks at Bonnie in disgust and grabs her car keys. “Let’s go. How do you feel about getting some coffee on the way?”

  “If it’s going to improve your mood, I’m all for it,” she says, smiling sweetly and following Wendy to the door.

  Wendy shrugs. “No guarantees, but it can’t hurt.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they pull into a drive-through coffee shop.

  “I need a small breve, with two extra shots,” Wendy says into the mike. She turns to Bonnie. “What about you?”

  “How about a bottle of water? I’ve had too much coffee already this morning.”

  They collect their order at the window and head for the airport.

  After finishing the breve, Wendy glances over at Bonnie. “Sorry for being such a bitch this morning,” she says, and Bonnie laughs.

  “You’re not. I understand how you felt, because I felt the same way at about three this morning.”

  The pilot is waiting when they arrive.

  Wendy hugs Bonnie. “I wish you could stay longer.”

  “I do too, but we’ll do this again. Are you coming north anytime soon?”

  “I don’t know yet, but you’ll be the first to know if I do. Have a safe trip and let me know when you get home.”

  “Thanks for everything. I will. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Oh, and thanks for taking me shopping for new clothes. I promise I’ll be dressed nicer the next time you see me,” Wendy says, glancing down at her outfit and grinning.

  Bonnie laughs and starts toward the jet. She turns briefly in the doorway of the plane to wave good-bye, then steps inside. Wendy gets back into her car.

  She arrives at her office a little after eleven to find two Oceanside PD detectives in her waiting room, sipping coffee the office manager, Mona, has given them.

  “Detectives? Hi, I’m Wendy Stevens,” she says by way of introduction. They shake hands, and in turn, introduce themselves as Detectives Brian Johnson and Seth Murphy.

  “Nice to meet you. Would you like to come into my office?” Wendy asks, and the detectives nod and follow her.

  Detective Murphy begins. “Ms. Stevens, we’re here to speak with you about Harder Gould.”

  “Well, he wasn’t a client of mine, so I guess I can tell you anything we discussed, but I’ll have to be very careful. Tina, his wife, is a client of mine, and my practice is to never discuss anything about my clients because of confidentiality issues. However, I will confirm the validity or lack thereof of anything my client has personally disclosed to you. Is that fair enough?”

  “Sounds great. Tell us about your visit and discussion with Harder Gould yesterday.”

  Wendy nods and sighs. “What have you been told so far about why I visited him?”

  Detective Johnson steps in. “Let me see if I can shorten this discussion for all of us, because we don’t want to take a lot of your time, and we don’t have all day to verbally spar with you, either. Tina told us she came by your office yesterday morning for an eight o’clock counseling session, is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “She told us she was concerned about Harder’s heroin addiction and particularly his recent practice of speedballing because when he combined heroin and cocaine he became angry and agitated. Do I have it right so far?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “OK. She also told us you had been her counselor in her previous marriage, which was physically abusive, and she feared she was seeing a similar pattern of behavior developing in Harder. That’s why she came to see you and asked you to go by the house and speak to him. I guess one of the purposes was
for you to determine if you thought he was going to turn violent. Am I still on track here?”

  “Yes, but my primary purpose was to see if I could convince him to go into an outpatient recovery program. Tina was indeed concerned about a pattern she saw potentially developing.”

  “Did you talk to Harder about these concerns?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And how did he react to you?”

  “Actually, I was surprised by his receptiveness. When I arrived, he told me Tina had told him I was coming and that she’d given him a heads-up on the concerns she had expressed to me earlier. Harder assured me he would never be abusive to Tina. He presented himself well and was well-groomed and alert, but I believe he was showing early signs of detoxification. His hands were shaking slightly. He told me he was in chronic pain and admitted to getting agitated because of it. He told me he would consider outpatient care, and then I left.”

  “Was he high when you met with him?”

  “I don’t believe so, but our whole conversation lasted only about twenty minutes, so I couldn’t say for sure.”

  “When do you think you got to the house?”

  “I would say sometime between one thirty and one forty.”

  “So you left around two”

  “Actually, I can check. I phoned my sister-in-law just after I left.” She pulls out her cell phone and flips through to the call log. “It shows I made that call at five past two,” she confirms, holding it out for them to see.

  “Great. Just a few more questions, Dr. Stevens—”

  “Please, it’s Wendy. I’m not fond of titles.”

  “Very well. Wendy, is your counseling practice primarily domestic violence?”

  “Yes. I specialize in working with victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. Why?”

  “This is just for our records. Was Tina seeing you because she was a victim of either type of abuse?”

  “As you indicated she told you, I had been her counselor during a previous physically abusive marriage. Other than confirming that, I don’t feel I’m at liberty to discuss why I was counseling her.”

  The detective nods, understanding. “Did you have any other contact with Harder, either in person or by phone, after you left around two yesterday?”