“Obviously.” She studied John’s mess. “Looks like you have absolutely everything you could possibly need to make an omelet.” For the first time in hours, Alexa laughed.
“A master chef doesn’t skimp on preparation. Just watch those cooking shows, and you’ll know I’m right.” John divided the fluffy omelet and slid the pieces onto two plates with a flourish.
“Why, this omelet looks like it’s been cooked by the Gourmet Chef.” Alexa sat at the counter.
“You never get that show right. It’s the Gallic Chef, not the Gourmet Chef.” With a little bow, John placed a basket of toast on the counter. A lock of his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead.
“Merci, monsieur.” Alexa giggled as John took a stool beside her. When Alexa nibbled a few bites, her slight nausea disappeared. She dug into the veggie-filled omelet.
After they had both demolished everything on their plates, John turned to Alexa. “What did the capitol police ask you?”
“After all that waiting, I expected a whole contingent, but just two guys interviewed me. Officer Sheridan from the capitol police. Do you know him? Balding, maybe forty-five. And the other guy said he was with the Dauphin County Criminal Investigation Division. A black guy with salt and pepper hair. Deep voice. Detective Marshall. They said the capitol police have jurisdiction over all crimes committed on state property, but CID takes over if it requires forensics and significant investigation.”
“I think I met this Marshall on a case last year. I’m not surprised they brought in CID. Did they question you and the other woman together?”
“No, they took Keisha into the far corner of the room and talked to her first. Then I got my turn. But there wasn’t really much to tell. We were sitting there on the bench, and this man sailed into the rotunda from one of the higher floors and crashed into the tiles.” Alexa shuddered as she recalled the moment of impact. “It was awful.”
“So that’s it? You didn’t see anything more?” John massaged her neck with one hand.
“Not really. A few minutes before it happened, we heard some guys arguing on one of the upper floors. We couldn’t see them.”
“How many voices?”
“At least three. Maybe four.”
“Do you think the dead man was part of that group?”
“I have no idea. It’s possible. It’s just as possible they were on another floor. They could have been on the mezzanine or up on four; there’s no real third floor balcony on that side of the rotunda. The argument stopped, and it got quiet before the man fell. So they could have left before it happened.”
“I hear this guy was a senator.” John stood to clean up the dishes. “No, stay there. I’ve got this.”
“That’s what Keisha said. She recognized him. Senator Carmine Martinelli from one of those northwest counties―Warren or maybe McKean.” Alexa’s voice trailed off for a minute before she resumed speaking. “She called him ‘a Senate institution.’ I Googled him while we were waiting. His official photo looked a few years old, taken before his hair turned gray and he put on that last twenty pounds.” Alexa frowned. “By the time I saw him, gravity had done its worst. But it was the same person as on the Senate website. No doubt Keisha was right.”
Scout laid his huge fawn head on Alexa’s knee as if he sensed her distress.
John closed the dishwasher and took two cups of tea from the microwave. “Zen tea. Do you want any sugar?”
“No.” Alexa managed a wan smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.” She couldn’t keep from reflecting that John loved to play the knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress. She cringed at the thought of turning into one of those girls who needs a man to rescue her. But, when she looked into John’s baby face and guileless brown eyes, she felt like an ungrateful jerk.
“Service is part of my job description.” He waved one of the teacups in a flourish, spilling a few drops onto the floor.
“I hardly think holding your girlfriend’s hand is what the state police had in mind.”
“My boyfriend job description. Come out to the living room.”
“Good idea. The woodstove should dry this hair.” She tugged on her curls, still so damp their usual honey color had darkened to caramel.
“This tea is exactly what I needed.” Alexa and John sat side by side on the big leather couch. Scout sprawled on the floor, his back resting on their feet. Alexa barely noticed John’s comforting grip on her hand. She couldn’t stop thinking about the death in the capitol rotunda.
“I feel like things are spinning out of control.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s happening again. Elizabeth Nelson, Cecily Townes, the Reverend, Quinn Hutton. Now this. I’ve turned into some sort of death magnet.”
“Don’t say that, sugarcakes. I know you’re trying to deal with a horrible experience. I’ve only seen one jumper in my years on the job. I’ll never forget that feeling of helplessness when she stepped off the building.” John scowled. “Or the way her body looked after it hit the ground. But you had nothing to do with this senator’s nosedive. And, you aren’t responsible for any of those other situations, either. The two women were already dead. You shot Reverend Browne in self-defense. And Quinn Hutton was a stone-cold lunatic killed in a police shoot-out.”
“In front of me.”
“He planned to kill you and put your head in a box for the gods.”
“For a Nat, a Buddhist spirit.” Alexa murmured.
“Whatever.” John shrugged. “The point is you’ve had a string of close encounters with death. But, there’s no way that you’re―what did you call it―a death magnet. Anyway, it looks like the senator was a suicide.”
“Suicide?”
“They found a note.” John put his teacup on the coffee table. “I used to play softball with one of the capitol cops working the scene in the rotunda. Terry told me the senator left a note on his computer. The wording sounded sort of weird, something like, There comes a time when a man has to come to terms with his life. I can’t go on any longer. They’re checking to see if he had some type of terminal illness.”
“That’s a pretty flowery suicide note. But, then, the guy was a politician.” Alexa voiced her earlier doubts. “I just don’t see how that old man climbed over that railing and jumped into the rotunda.”
“I don’t know. But, people who want to commit suicide―not the cry-for-help people; the ones who take a long hard look at their lives and decide they prefer death―that group can be remarkably determined once they’ve made up their minds. So I wouldn’t totally reject the possibility that the senator overcame the odds to clamber over the rail to off himself. You didn’t hear him scream, right?”
“You’re right. Whoa, that would take real determination to jump without a sound.” Alexa shuddered.
“No. No. Aaaaayyh!” Yelling, Alexa jerked awake, the terror of the nightmare still fresh in her mind. She’d had this dream before. She was back in Quinn Hutton’s crazy temple, still chained to the wall. As always, Quinn explained he planned to kill her and put her skull in a box as an offering. But, this time, her dream changed. Quinn called her name from the rafters of the old barn. When she looked up, Quinn shoved someone off the beam. Alexa screamed as the body plummeted to the floor in front of her, blood oozing into the oriental carpet. As she gazed in horror at the silver-haired old man, his face liquefied, mingling with the puddle of blood. Alexa’s eyes followed one of the crimson rivulets from the carpet back up to the body. Her shrieks echoed through the temple when she saw that the face on the broken corpse had become her own.
Eyes open, Alexa recognized her bedroom ceiling. Trying to move past the nightmare, she took deep breaths, making each breath last a count longer. She felt John’s calming presence on the bed beside her. In the corner, Scout whimpered and kicked his legs, chasing squirrels or bunnies in his slumber. Although her waking cry had seemed loud to Alexa, it hadn’t disturbed either John or the dog. Comforted by these mundane connections to the real world, she rolled on
to her side and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Three
The mattress bounced once, twice, three times until Alexa opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sunshine pouring through the windows. “Scout, give me a break,” she pleaded. The mastiff’s huge head rested on the bed just inches from her face. When Alexa looked at the dog, he bounced his chin against the mattress again.
“OK, OK.” Alexa glanced at the empty space on the other side of her bed. “Didn’t John let you out when he went to work?” She swung her feet onto the floor and shuffled to the closet for a robe and slippers while Scout galloped downstairs to the front door.
After she let the dog out for a morning romp, Alexa threw a log in the woodstove and trundled back upstairs to dress. Her cabin sat in the midst of a forest, with acres of woods surrounding it, so she could leave Scout outside alone. As the giant beast moved beyond his puppy years, he stuck close to the house. She knew he’d be sitting on the deck when she arrived downstairs for breakfast.
Alexa ran through her schedule for the day as she showered, then crafted a mental outline of points for the Bowen brief as she dressed. She donned a blue ikat blouse and grabbed the jacket of her pantsuit from its hanger. When Alexa pulled the jacket over her right arm, she stopped short, eyes focused on the lower sleeve. Instead of the black fabric sheathing her arm, Alexa saw yesterday’s gray jacket covered in a spray of Senator’s Martinelli’s blood. Shaking, she sank to the bed, the jacket trailing from her arm.
“You saw a man die yesterday. And it wasn’t a pretty death. The senator fell several stories into a solid brick floor. You can’t ignore it. It’s normal to be upset.” Alexa felt better just speaking the words aloud to the empty room. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, she slipped her left arm into the jacket and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Melinda flagged Alexa down the moment she rushed through the doors of the law firm. “You’ve got a ten o’clock with the Harrisons on their adoption. And you have to be in court at two.” Alexa dumped her briefcase on the desk and took off her trench coat. She’d tossed the wool coat she’d worn the night before into the hamper for dry-cleaning.
Her ample assistant scooped the trench coat from the chair and placed it on a hanger by the door. “I’ll bring you some tea. How did the deposition go yesterday?”
“Long. I’d say this case is going to trial. But, we’re still a few months away from that decision.”
“All great achievements take time.”
“A Pennsylvania Dutch saying?”
“No, a Facebook post.”
By the time Melinda bustled out the door, Alexa’s mood had brightened. Her irrepressible coworker had a penchant for timeworn sayings and Pennsylvania Dutch aphorisms that never failed to make Alexa giggle.
When Melinda returned with the tea, she asked Alexa, “Did I mention Graham wants to see you? He’s in his office. Now you’re a partner, I imagine he’ll be consulting you almost every day. Maybe we need to leave an hour free on your schedule every morning.”
“Good. I planned to track him down anyway. But, let’s see how things go for a few weeks before you change the schedule.” Alexa took a quick sip from her teacup before she carried it down the hallway to her brother’s office.
A lot of changes had taken place in the law firm over the past few months. After her mother’s brush with death last summer, Alexa’s parents had decided to spend part of each year in the Italian region of Umbria, a spot they both loved. Her father resigned his position as senior partner in the family firm of Williams, Williams, and O’Donnell. Norris Williams’ decision had spurred Pat O’Donnell to take the leap into retirement as well.
Alexa’s older brother, Graham, took the helm as senior partner and promoted both Alexa and her sometime nemesis, Brian Stewart, to partner status. They had hired two Dickinson Law School grads to entry-level positions and renamed the firm Williams, Williams, and Stewart.
“Hey, Lexie, come in.” Graham rose from behind his big walnut desk and took a seat in one of the big wing chairs by the window.
“I still expect to see Dad here when I walk in.” Alexa sank into the facing chair.
“It’s going to take awhile until we’ve settled into our new roles. I’m still struggling with balancing the workload. How much longer are you going to be involved in this trafficking commission?”
“You mean the Commission from Hell?” his sister groaned. “I’m betting it will go another four months before we can reach agreement on what to put into a report. I was naïve to think it would be a quick process. Silas Gabler had to know that when he conned me into this citizen chairmanship. From her staff experience in the legislature, Mom must have known he was feeding me bullshit. But, she probably kept quiet because Dad wanted me to do a favor for his law school buddy, the senator.”
Graham gave her a wry smile. “I see you’ve become cynical after just a few months working with government.”
“I’ve been cynical for a while. This experience just confirms an existing worldview,” Alexa grinned.
“Well, the timing thing. That’s not what I wanted to hear. We’re losing a hell of a lot of billable hours.”
Alexa scowled at her brother. “Look, Graham. You knew all this when you made me partner. I gave up my volunteer hours at the Family Planning Clinic. And, as I recall, you liked the valuable PR my work on the commission would give the firm.”
Graham sighed. “You’re right. And, you know I support everything you’re doing to improve laws against sex trafficking. Those bastards shot Mom and nearly killed her. Not to mention all the lives they ruined. We need to take all the traffickers off the street. But, Brian can’t handle any greater workload―and the kids are still getting up to speed.”
“Don’t let our two new lawyers hear you call them kids. They seem to be doing a pretty good job.”
“Agreed, but they’re newbies. It’s going to take awhile.”
“Can we afford to hire someone else; someone who’s been practicing for a while and looking for a change?” Alexa glanced at her watch. “I have a client appointment in about ten minutes. Maybe this should be on the partners’ agenda for tomorrow.” She rose to her feet. “One thing I wanted to tell you.” She hesitated. “Did you hear about the senator who died last evening at the capitol?”
“Yeah. On the news this morning.” Graham stood and moved toward his desk, then stopped. “What the hell, Lexie? I recognize that expression. Were you involved in this somehow?”
Alexa nodded. “Keisha Washington and I were sitting in the rotunda when this guy comes crashing into the floor. It was awful.”
Graham circled Alexa with his arms and crushed her against his chest. She could feel her curls slip from their clip but pressed her face into her brother’s comforting embrace.
“So, another police interview?”
Alexa stepped back. “There wasn’t much I could tell them. We heard some guys arguing. Then it got quiet. A few minutes later, this man lands at our feet. John came to Harrisburg and drove me home. Another trooper brought my car back here. I drove the Mini today, so I’ve got two cars parked in the back lot.”
Graham looked at his sister intently. “Are you OK?”
“Physically, yes. But seeing that body hit the floor . . .” Alexa swallowed hard. “I’m freaked out, Graham. Is death following me around? First, I start finding dead bodies. Now living people become corpses right before my eyes.”
“I knew it. All those black suits you wear. Just yesterday, I asked Kate if you carry that big purse to hide a scythe,” he deadpanned.
“I’m serious, Graham.”
“So am I. You’ve had a weird run, stumbling into these situations. But it’s ridiculous to think you’re the Grim Reaper or some such shit.” Her brother’s tone softened. “Do you need counseling? Or maybe you just need to talk to Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t want to bother them while they’re in Umbria working on the new house. I’ll talk to them when they get back.”
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At the knock on the door, Alexa glanced at her watch then fixed her hair. “That’s probably Melinda. I’ve got to go. The Harrisons are here.”
“Take care, Lexie. We’ll talk more later.”
“I’m almost finished researching the case law. It looks pretty good for our argument.” Vanessa placed a manila folder at Alexa’s elbow on the conference table.
Alexa tossed her unfinished chicken salad sandwich on the plate and wiped her hands on a napkin. Yesterday’s nausea had returned, and she could only force down a few bites. “Great. I’ll take a look at it after I get back from court. Are there any other angles you think we should take a look at? The Bowens are desperate to win this case.”
“We studied a few property dispute cases in my Property Law class. I have some angles that could be helpful. Let me finish the research.”
“Good thought. Continue your research this afternoon, and we can talk about some of my ideas tomorrow morning.”
As Vanessa gathered her papers and headed toward the door, Alexa studied the recent law school grad. The new associate seemed to enjoy research, and the firm needed that enthusiasm. Having someone to do background work was a real lifesaver.
When Melinda buzzed on the phone, Alexa looked at the time. “No, I still have an hour before I have to leave for the courthouse.” She breathed a sigh of relief as she picked up the receiver.
“You have a call from Jeannie Demeter. She says she knows you. Do you want to take it?” Melinda used her guard dog voice.
Alexa smiled. “Jeannie? Yes, of course. I roomed with her senior year at Columbia. Undergrad.”
“I’ll put her through.”
Alexa spoke first. “Jeannie, it has been ages since we’ve talked.”
“Far too long. I’ve thought about getting in touch, but somehow life just gets in the way of good intentions.”
Alexa recognized her friend’s voice although Jeannie seemed a bit subdued. “Tell me about it. I’ve lost touch with almost all of my college friends. At least you and I exchange Christmas cards. And I see your posts on Facebook when I have time to go online.” Alexa laughed.
Dead of Spring: An Alexa Williams Novel Page 2
