by Sydney Bauer
‘He’s a good man.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Although I hear on the grapevine that his wife is trying to get him to retire. Thinks he’s had enough.’
‘From my experience,’ said Joe, ‘wives are usually pretty canny when it comes to that sort of thing.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she smiled, signalling him to take a seat next to her on the beautifully carved cherrywood bench facing out over Boston Common.
They sat there in silence for a minute before Scaturro reached into her suit jacket pocket, retrieving a small key.
‘What’s this?’ he asked as she held it towards him.
‘It is the key to a safety deposit box, somewhere here in Boston. Inside the box lies some . . . shall we say . . . collateral.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Joe said.
Loretta said nothing in reply but looked up again towards the party where Roger Katz had just emerged onto the front foyer to ‘work’ the crowd in the garden. There he was, full of bravado and confidence, smiling, laughing, pumping palms and slapping backs.
‘I know it is hard to understand, Joe. You think I am crazy to keep him on. But sometimes it is a case of “better the devil you know”, especially when the devil is talented and you have your own blue chip insurance policy locked away in a safety deposit box.’
‘Loretta, if the contents of this box contain evidence of a crime I really can’t . . .’
‘But that is why I am giving you the key and not the contents.’
More silence.
‘Joe, I don’t have much time so let’s get to the point. In the event that I should come to any . . . ah . . . shall we say . . . misfortune, the location, number and security code of the box can be found in my private safe which sits behind the Anwar in my living room. I just need to know you have it, especially considering the nature of my first big case following re-election.’
The Elizabeth Haynes trial was due to start next month.
‘The contents are self explanatory and now, you are one of three people who know of their existence.’
‘Katz knows what you have on him?’
‘Of course. I am sure he knew what I was up to at the time. But that was before his fall from grace, when he was feeling . . . I suppose the word would be . . . invincible.’
‘A dangerous misconception for anyone.’
‘Indeed. Especially since Senator Haynes has now confirmed the speculation surrounding his impending retirement. Anyway, this way I have my own personal indemnity and keep Katz in line as part of the bargain,’ she said.
‘You still have to work with him.’
‘Everything comes at a price, Joe.’
They sat in silence a minute longer before she turned to look at him. ‘I hate to call in favours, Joe, but you do owe me. I’ve always been straight with you. Remember the Stacey Pepper case? I was the one who tipped you off about Katz’ knowledge of Stacey Pepper’s pathetic stepfather’s priors. It’s all ammunition you know, waiting to be pulled out at the appropriate moment.’ She held up the key again. ‘Take it.’
And he did, putting it safely into his top suit pocket.
‘Thanks,’ she said and they both stood to return to the function. ‘How’s Joe Jnr by the way, still hitting them out of the field?’
‘Yes Ma’am. Coach says he is one of the best he’s seen. Wants to start talking scholarships.’
She laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I was just thinking, your son could make a career out of hitting balls, whereas I have made my career out of dodging them.’
‘Hmmm,’ he said, knowing this was true but not knowing whether to admire or feel sorry for her.
‘He’s a talent, Joe. He’ll go all the way.’
‘Be a nice way to make a living.’
But she did not hear him as she strode up the grass towards Allison Byrne, the new African–American Republican Senatorial candidate, all smiles and political correctness, ready to play the game again.
53
Three months after trial.
David turned to watch her walk down the aisle and fell in love with her all over again.
Her hair was pulled back from her face, tied up in a bunch of small white roses, leaving tresses of curls to fall down her back. Her dress was pale green, the colour of fresh mint. It was a simple sheaf of satin which hung from shoe-string straps slightly around her frame, right down to the floor. In her hands she held a bunch of small white rose buds, their green leaves complementing her dress and setting off the cool lagoon colour of her eyes, which were fixed on him.
‘Nervous?’ whispered David into Tyrone’s ear.
‘You bet,’ said Tyrone. ‘But this . . . this all feels so right. You know?’
David patted his friend on the back before turning to see Teesha moving up behind Sara.
She walked slowly, elegantly and seemed older somehow. Her fine featured face was framed by her new short curls. Her adolescence replaced by a newfound maturity.
Her mother followed, wearing a fashionable suit in the same clean green as Sara and Teesha.
And then there she was, all big and bright and white. Delia Banks was the picture of bliss – her long white dress bordered with fine lace trim, her face glowing, radiant in the morning sun.
And so they became husband and wife again, agreeing to live in Boston with Tyrone making a weekly commute to his base office in DC. They were here to re-form the bond that should never have been broken, knowing the worst was past and the future was full of hope.
‘Correct me if I am wrong,’ said Arthur grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to Nora. ‘But isn’t 9am a little early for this sort of thing?’
‘It’s his fault,’ said Delia, taking her husband’s hand. ‘When he proposed, straight after the trial he asked me to set a date . . .’
‘So that she couldn’t back out,’ finished Tyrone.
‘So, I picked 12 October, the anniversary of our first wedding.’
‘And I said,’ Tyrone went on. ‘That if you are going to make me wait three months, I want the wedding as early as possible – 6am!’
‘To which I responded with a big fat No!’ The pair made a perfect match. ‘Sweet Jesus, you think looking this good comes easy? It might be okay for these fine young things,’ Delia gestured at Teesha and Sara. ‘But I got up at midnight to start work on this creation.’ They all laughed.
‘Delia,’ called Rayna from inside the marque, which had been erected near the rear of Delia’s extensive back garden. ‘Sara, Teesha. The photographer wants us by the gazebo. ‘And don’t get too comfortable, guys,’ she called to Tyrone, David and Arthur. ‘The groom and his groomsmen are next.’
‘Come on girls,’ said Nora. ‘These gents need all the preparation time they can get.’
The three men stood there watching the women move down towards the back of the grounds which bordered onto Brookline Reserve, their minds sent back to a darker time not so long ago.
‘Do you think they will ever find him?’ Tyrone asked.
‘No,’ said Arthur. ‘Verne is too sharp, too well trained.’
‘Unless he tries to get in touch with Haynes.’
‘I doubt it. His job was to protect him, and at this point he is smart enough to realise that means no contact.’
‘It gets under my skin,’ said David. ‘Haynes walking free.’
‘But at what price?’ said Tyrone. ‘He’s lost his daughter, his wife, and his career.’
‘True, but men like that have a tendency to bounce back. We should never underestimate him.’
‘David,’ called Sara signalling for the men to join them near the gazebo. They straightened their ties and made their way through the smiling crowd, Arthur commandeering another champagne along the way.
David walked ahead and took Sara’s hand, stopping for a moment to kiss her softly on the cheek.
‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said.
/> ‘I’ll miss you too. But we’ll talk every day. I promise.’ Sara was booked on a plane to Atlanta the very next morning, having decided to seek out her own birth mother.
‘Mary Beth was inspiring,’ she said referring to a conversation she’d had with Elizabeth’s first daughter. ‘Even though her mother is rejecting her, she is not giving up. She wants to understand what Elizabeth Haynes did, how she became so full of hate and bigotry. Maybe, just maybe they can rebuild some form of relationship after the trial.’
‘Sara, you must remember your mother may not want to do any rebuilding.’
‘I know, but I have to try. I’ll be back before you know it.’ She took his hand and squeezed as they made their way to the garden. ‘Just don’t meet any smart, attractive young co-counsels while I’m away.’
‘Don’t worry, Arthur is definitely not my type.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, leaning into him.
‘Yes, I do and no, I won’t.’
They walked some more.
‘Sara?’
‘Yes.’
‘You do know how much I—’
‘Yes.’ she turned to him again putting her arms around his neck. ‘How could I not. You have shown me that sometimes, the world really is as beautiful as it seems.’
‘Ah, what’s this? My favourite cynic has become an idealist after all.’
‘Is that such a bad thing?’ she smiled.
‘No,’ he replied taking her in his arms. ‘Because right now, I can’t imagine the world being any other way.’
