“Yes, I see his file here. It’s very limited. It only contains the information about his placement and the preliminary home visit. Then it just stops.”
“Can we have the location where he was placed?”
He took a deep breath and expelled it, causing Elizabeth to sit back when she got a whiff of garlic. “He was a minor. We can’t just release this information without a court order.”
“But that was more than thirty years ago,” she said, trying to reason with him.
Frank thought about it for a moment. “Hold on. I need to check with our counsel. I’ll be right back.” He exited out of the computer and walked to the door, giving Elizabeth an opportunity to view Frank in his entirety, including one black and one brown shoe to complete his outfit.
As soon as he left the room, she stood. “Guard the door.”
“What are you doing?” Father Parker asked with a bit of alarm in his voice.
“Just watch the door. Let me know when he comes back. I’m going to look it up myself.” She was already in Frank’s seat and typing as she spoke.
“How do you know how to work that thing?” the father asked as he stood near the doorway.
“I watched him type. He was typing so slow I could read everything he input.” She typed in the password, which engaged the system. She had a decent view of the screen when Frank worked the computer, so she could mimic his moves. A small icon circled in the center of the screen as the computer processed the information.
“Come on, come on,” Elizabeth demanded of the computer, nervously tapping her fingers on the desk.
Father Parker shifted from one foot to the other as he tried to inconspicuously stand guard. “I can’t believe I’m a part of this. Since I’ve known you, I have trespassed, burglarized a school, and now I’m complicit in breaking into a government system and stealing confidential information. Did I leave anything out?”
Elizabeth didn’t have time to respond as the requested information popped up on the computer screen. She snatched a pen from a cup on the top of the desk and searched for a piece of paper to write on. She started pulling open the side drawers, only finding files stuffed with forms. She yanked open the top drawer and hastily moved things around, pushing aside a container of Tic Tacs. I think Frank could have used some of these.
“Hurry up. He’s coming!” Father Parker said in a loud whisper.
“Damn it!” She took the pen and started writing on her arm.
“Three seconds!” he said in a panic, wringing his hands.
Out of time to exit the computer, Elizabeth pushed the button on the computer, shutting it off. She leaped from the chair, and without enough time to return to her seat without Frank seeing her dive for it, she moved to the window and stared out.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” Frank said to Father Parker as he approached him.
“Oh, no need to apologize,” the father replied. Frank passed him in the doorway, and Father Parker followed and took his seat as Elizabeth turned from the window and casually retook her seat.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that I’ve been advised that I cannot release that information without a court order.”
Elizabeth wasn’t surprised, as she already knew this would be the answer if Frank consulted with department counsel. She rose and put out her hand, and Frank firmly gripped it. “Thank you anyway, Frank. I appreciate that you took the time to check for us.”
“I wish I could have been more help.”
She gave him a small smile, and Father Parker stood without making eye contact and made a quick escape without saying a word.
Father Parker finally spoke as they reached Elizabeth’s car. “I think I need to go to confession. Care to join me?”
She smiled. “It’s all for the greater good, Father.”
The father simply shook his head once again and opened the car door.
Seated in the car, Elizabeth pulled out a small pad of paper from her glove compartment and copied down the information from her arm. Father Parker remained silent, and she felt slightly guilty for putting him through that. She knew that he had a different set of rules that he played by, and she had caused him to run afoul of them several times. She would think twice before she called on him again to go out on one of her missions.
After Elizabeth dropped off Father Parker, she headed to her parents’ home, her head filled with thoughts of a hot bath and reading a book curled under the covers; however, her dreams were shattered when she opened the front door and heard her mother call out to her, “Hurry up, Elizabeth. We’re going to be late.”
She scrunched up her nose at her mother who was standing at the top of the stairs. “Late for what?”
“Honestly, Elizabeth. How do you keep your life straight? I told you last week about the cocktail party that the mayor is hosting.”
“Uh, no you didn’t,” she responded with her eyes wide.
“Elizabeth, I don’t have time for this. Come upstairs and get ready. Wear that little black dress you had on last New Year’s Eve. I think Thomas will like it.”
“Thomas?”
Her mother blew out an exasperated breath. “Thomas Whittaker. I told you about him. He’s made partner at his brokerage firm.” She gestured with her hand in the air for emphasis. “He’s meeting us here in less than an hour.” She turned to walk away.
“But I’m not going,” Elizabeth stuttered out.
Her mother stopped, turned, and leveled a glare down at her. “Oh yes, you are. Stop this foolishness and get upstairs.”
“What about Raymond?”
“Roberta is going to stay the night and watch over him,” she responded with the superiority of motherhood.
“How come he doesn’t have to go?” Elizabeth whined out. She couldn’t believe that came out of her mouth. She cringed. This was what her mother reduced her to, a whining, selfish two-year-old.
Her mother simply shook her head in disapproval and walked away. “You have forty-five minutes.”
Elizabeth threw up her arms. “Welcome to hell.”
A short hour later, she strolled down the stairs in her tight-fitting black cocktail dress, just as her mother ordered. She considered wearing something dowdy or even a pair of jeans but realized how juvenile that would be, and she had to redeem herself from the Raymond comment earlier. Her act of rebellion came in being fifteen minutes late coming downstairs. Thomas stood watching her descend, wiping his nose with a handkerchief.
“I swear this must be one of Dante’s circles of hell,” Elizabeth whispered to herself.
Thomas held out his hand to assist her down the last step, and she reluctantly accepted it. Shoot me now, please.
She rode with her parents in the back of the limousine, with her date seated at her side, and sat staring out the window the entire ride, ignoring the conversation around her. When the car pulled up to the entrance of the posh restaurant, she resisted the urge to open the door and start running.
*
Inside the restaurant, Grace stood with a passive smile, nodding on occasion at the dribbling of conversation that was surrounding her, hoping that she at least gave the appearance of paying attention. She hated events like these, but attendance by all the detectives and upper ranks in the department was deemed mandatory by the captain to show support of the city. Grace arrived early in hopes of making a quick showing and then an even quicker exit, with still enough of the evening left to salvage the night.
She knew of a women’s bar less than ten minutes away, and although she would be overdressed, she would garner the attention of the women, just as she had of the men thus far, who made no effort to hide their gawking at her form-fitting navy dress. Thoroughly bored and wondering if she had stayed an appropriate period of time, she looked to the entrance to gauge how many were still streaming in, when a familiar face caught her attention. Her eyes greedily trailed the form that occupied the sleek black dress. She realized her unabashed stare and visceral reaction and repositioned hersel
f, which allowed her to inconspicuously watch Elizabeth as she stood impatiently at the entrance, waiting for the security to discreetly search her small purse that was dangling from her wrist.
As she observed Elizabeth look on with disinterest at the restaurant that was bustling with the political and social elite, a man at Elizabeth’s side leaned into her ear for a whisper before grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd. Not wanting to witness any more of the intimate display, Grace turned away and lost herself in the crowd, narrowly missing Elizabeth as she passed. She did not turn back as she headed toward the exit, dispensing with the thought of continuing her evening at a bar with anonymous company.
*
Elizabeth freed her hand from Thomas and paused as a familiar scent washed over her. She quickly scanned the perimeter, hoping to find its source, but realized she was being ridiculous and once again allowed Thomas to recapture her and guide her without protest to his clients, who he had spotted across the room. The two men who had been engrossed in conversion stopped and looked up to acknowledge them.
“Thomas, good to see you,” offered one, and he extended his hand in greeting.
“It’s good to see you.” Thomas turned to her. “This is Elizabeth Campbell. Elizabeth, this is Seth Lowry, the CEO of IPR.”
“IPR?” she asked, although not particularly interested.
“We’re a pharmaceutical research company,” Lowry said.
Elizabeth recalled reading a newspaper article about the start-up pharmaceutical company, with its success and rapid growth. “Yes, of course. I read about your company.”
He was clearly pleased.
“So what’s your secret?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” Lowry asked.
“From what I read, IPR has seen quite a bit of success for a start-up,” she explained.
“Ah well, it’s a combination. We hired some very smart people, invested our capital into the proper research, and well then, there’s also just plain luck.”
“IPR’s innovative and thorough research has streamlined their clinical trials, and they’re now in the final stage with a patent pending. It’s all hush, hush, but it’s going to be big. This is a company to watch,” Thomas said, clearly trying to earn some kudos from his client.
“We’ve been lucky,” Lowry said.
The second man, who had been silent through the exchange, finally spoke up and began the topic of the morning’s stock market report, and Elizabeth tuned out. The men quickly forgot about her presence, and she felt like an interloper and excused herself, claiming that she recognized someone and wanted to say hello.
As she wandered through a sea of people, a clear swan carved from ice stood above a table of appetizers in the corner and beckoned her over. The swan sat elegantly atop a block of ice in a small glass pool, with small fish swimming around the base. Elizabeth looked closely at the pool and noticed a fish floating at the top. Poor guy. I know how you feel. She turned her thoughts to the swan and couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch the sculpture to verify its authenticity. She ran her hand over its smooth, cold back and ran it up to the head. She traced the beak with her fingers, grasping the end when she got to it. To Elizabeth’s horror, the beak snapped off in her hands.
“Oh shit!” Maybe my parents should have brought Raymond and left me home with the sitter. She furtively looked around to see if anyone had noticed her faux pas. Convinced she went unnoticed, she tried to reattach the beak, hoping if she held it firmly enough, the ice would melt together. No such luck. A waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes, and she held the beak behind her back out of the waiter’s view and politely declined the drink. She looked around trying to find a place to inconspicuously stash the chunk of ice. Her hand was freezing. The ice was dripping through her fingers, and she could feel it trickling down the back of her legs.
She moved away from the wounded swan and headed toward the bathroom with the intent of flushing the evidence but was abruptly stopped by Mayor Reynosa, who stepped out in front of her path.
“Ms. Campbell, I thought that was you,” the mayor said. Several other guests turned to see who garnered the mayor’s attention.
“You know who I am?”
“Well, of course. I make it my business to know the infamous people in this town.”
“Infamous? How so?”
“The Raymond Miller case, of course. That was a bit of a surprise.”
“I’m sure it was,” she said without care as to how it sounded.
“It’s a shame that the city must waste its resources to retry a man who admits his own guilt.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I certainly didn’t ask for this. It was your idea for a full review of all major crimes convictions. I did my job. I reviewed the case. It didn’t add up.”
The mayor shook his head with a small laugh, like he was addressing a child who misunderstood the point of her parent’s lecture. “My dear, I believe you are confused. I certainly did not request a review of this case. The man confessed. End of story. There was no review needed.” He droned on about her fruitless expedition squandering the city’s money, but she paid little attention. She was lost in the mayor’s statement that he didn’t request for Raymond’s case to be reviewed. If he didn’t, then who sent it to SILC for review?
She tuned back in to hear the mayor’s condescending tone as he continued to lecture her. “I suppose jury tampering is a way to ensure that the city’s integrity remains intact. I’m not so sure about its budget. What’s it cost to buy a juror?”
“Excuse me?” asked Mayor Reynosa, indignation evident in his voice.
“You heard me.”
“You should be careful, young lady. Slander can be costly.”
The mayor turned and walked away, flagging down another guest.
Another waiter passed by, and Elizabeth raised her hand in the air to stop him. The ice was still clutched in her raised hand, and she placed the beak on the tray and grabbed a glass. The waiter furrowed his brows at the beak and then looked up at her.
She took a large sip of alcohol before responding to the waiter’s unasked question. “The swan had a bit of a mishap.” She pointed to the beakless ice sculpture. “It was a drunken fish. He got too frisky. The swan fought nobly but lost his beak in the end.” The waiter remained motionless as he stared at her.
She knew that it would be a good time to make her exit and placed her now-empty glass on the tray next to the beak and bid the waiter a good evening and headed for the door. She passed Thomas on her way and informed him that she was leaving, claiming a headache, and told—no, more like ordered—him to stay. “I’ve called a friend who’s picking me up. You stay and enjoy the evening. Will you tell my parents that I left when you see them?” She didn’t wait for a response and turned and walked out.
She pulled her phone from the black purse and dialed Michael’s number, but it went to voice mail, and she puffed out a brisk message explaining her surprise date with the runny nose man, as she came to dub him, and found herself in need of a ride. She hugged her torso and vigorously rubbed her arms in an attempt to generate some body heat as she impatiently waited his return call.
“It’s warmer inside.”
She turned to find a man on the shorter side with a crooked bow tie, standing a few feet away. “No doubt, with all that hot air.”
“I’d have to agree. I came out for a bit of fresh air. It’s a bit stuffy in there, and I don’t mean the temperature.”
She instantly liked the man. “I’m Elizabeth Campbell.” She unwrapped one arm from her body and offered a handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Campbell. I’m Simon Fisher. I work for the mayor and am forced to be here.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Me too,” Simon responded.
Before Elizabeth could continue their conversation any further, an SUV pulled up to the curb, and the passenger window rolled down. “Need a ride?”
Elizabe
th peered inside to see Grace behind the wheel and debated her options: sit outside and wait and hope Michael returned her call, return to the party and her date, or get into the car with Grace. Elizabeth turned to Simon and bid him good-bye and quickly stepped into the SUV. She turned the car vent, allowing the heated air to blow on her.
“This dress was a stupid idea. I’m freezing.”
“You should have waited inside,” Grace said.
“Hell no,” she replied through chattering teeth.
“Am I missing the opportunity for a hell freezes over joke here?”
Elizabeth turned and looked at her as if recognizing her for the first time, and she admired her navy dress from the top of the cleavage to the bottom of the hem that came mid-thigh. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just about to escape when I saw a stupid woman with no jacket, standing out front, and being that it’s my duty to protect and serve, I rescued her.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
Grace put the car into reverse and started to back up to the restaurant entrance. “All righty then, I’ll just put you back where I found you.”
“Wait. Fine. I need a ride.”
“Please,” Grace corrected her like she was a small child.
“Please and thank you,” Elizabeth said through a false smile.
“Won’t your boyfriend be missing you?” Grace asked.
“My boyfriend? Oh God no, the runny nose man was my mother’s doing, a surprise date.”
“The ‘runny nose’ man?” Grace laughed.
Elizabeth’s phone rang and she snatched it up. “Michael, where have you been?”
“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”
“Never mind, Detective Donovan is giving me a ride.”
“Ooohh, this sounds interesting. Two lesbian lovers sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love, then comes vows, and somewhere in there, a rented U-Haul’s involved.”
Elizabeth hung up the phone and jammed it into her purse.
“Everything all right?” Grace asked.
“Yes, just my soon to be ex-best friend Michael.”
Sins of Our Fathers Page 17
