Tattered Justice

by John Foxjohn

  “You’re right, dear. It isn’t a good idea. It is a great one.” She lowered herself to her knees in front of him. Both hands lay on his thighs.

  The chimes went off as she caressed her fingertips along the fabric, moving higher. She didn’t worry about who had come over. Mittie would get rid of them.

  She jerked her head around when Darren stiffened in the seat.

  * * * *

  Kayla arrived at John Sutherland’s office on time. While she ate, she told him what she wanted.

  He tapped his fingers on his desk as she talked. He stood and sauntered around the desk, sitting on the edge. “I’ve never met Darren Duval, but I know a lot about him. He has a reputation as one of the best private investigators in the country. He also has the reputation as a straight shooter. From what I know of him, he wouldn’t be a part of what happened to you. How sure are you?”

  “I’m not sure at all.” This had more of a truth to it than she wanted to admit. She wanted it to be true. That way she wouldn’t need to worry about those things inside of her that made her aware of him as a man.

  If he’d done it, she knew why and how to combat it. If not, she didn’t know where to turn to. Her life might be in danger.

  John perched the seat next to her and laid a hand on her arm. She stiffened, but realized he hadn’t intended it as sexual—more as a friend. She forced a smile. “I’d still like to know everything about him. I also would like to know where he goes and who he talks to.” She laid her free hand on his arm. “More than anything, it would give me a little piece of mind.”

  He patted her arm and rose. Back behind his desk, he took down all the information she had. “It won’t be hard to get the rest I need. Kayla, it isn’t easy skulking after someone like Darren Duval. I’m going to need several people—good ones—to do it.”

  “I don’t care what the cost is or how many you need.” She reached for her purse and handed him a check for ten thousand dollars. “Is this enough to start?”

  He glanced at the check and put it in his top drawer. “More than enough. How and when do you want me to contact you?”

  She stood. “Only if you think you have something I need to know.” She looked him in the eye. “I trust your judgment, John.”

  Her cell phone rang. She held up a finger. “This is from Marvin at the office. He wouldn’t call unless it was important.” She hit redial and Marvin picked up on the first ring.

  “Proctor called. They got a true bill from the grand jury. They are getting an arrest warrant. He said surrender her within two hours or they’d go get her.”

  Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “Two hours. He’s going to play hardball on this one, isn’t he?”

  “No, he wants blood on this one.”

  She thought for a moment. “I’m going to get Loren and take her to the station. Get a judge ready for the arraignment and have bond ready. It’ll kill Miss Prissy to spend any time in jail.” What would Loren do if Kayla lost this?

  She hung up and called Loren’s cell phone as John frowned. She got her answering machine.

  She hung up and pondered for a moment. John broke into her thoughts. “Where’d you get a baseball analogy from? Did you play?”

  She didn’t understand what he’d meant. She shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  “You said someone was playing hardball. That’s a baseball analogy.”

  “Oh, no. I never played. I’m not the athletic type. Something my father said. Guess I picked it up from him.”

  He cocked his head. “Not the athletic type, my butt. Who filled your head with that?”

  She chuckled. “Trust me. I’m not. I hate to run, but I have a client with a two-hour window before they charge in like Rambo.”

  She rushed out of the office, calling Loren’s cell phone. Still got the answering machine.

  She had no choice. She’d have to run by the woman’s house.

  Almost to Loren’s, she decided to give it one more try, but again got the answering machine. She parked and strode up the flagstone driveway and rang the bell. Chimes like an elevator echoed from inside.

  Moments later, a woman in her early to late fifties answered the door. Kayla’s heart leaped out to her. Poor thing looked like someone used her to mop the floor. No wonder. Look who she worked for. She smiled and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Kayla Nugent, Loren’s attorney, and I need to speak with her right away. It’s important.”

  Surprise registered on the woman’s face like no one had ever offered to shake hands or smile at her. They clasped hands and Kayla said, “I’m sorry for butting in like this and I tried to call Loren’s cell, but no one answered.”

  The lady cocked her head. “You don’t run in the same circles as Ms. Estes, do you?”

  Kayla chuckled. “God, I hope not. Please shoot me if I ever do.”

  The lady’s smile could have powered downtown Houston. “Ms. Nugent. You just follow me.”

  “Kayla, please.”

  The lady shook her head. “Ma’am, you’re just too good to be true. Follow me.”

  Kayla frowned at her back. What had she meant by that? The woman led the way with a spring in her step.

  The lady held the door and Kayla entered. She caught her breath. Deja vu swept through her.

  Darren leaped up just as Mark had done. The only difference—Mark hadn’t had any clothes on.

  Darren attempted to smooth his clothes, but in his condition, it didn’t help.

  Loren swiveled and reclined on the floor, not bothering to cover herself, just as she had years ago, but then she was in bed. Anger soared through Kayla and she wanted to march forward and strangle Loren.

  Kayla took a deep breath, fighting to calm herself. Her pulse throbbed in her temples. She ached to scratch the smug smile off the bitch’s face. Her hands balled into fists, but relaxed. This wasn’t Mark this time. Darren didn’t mean a thing to her. Not any more, anyway.

  “Well, Kayla, you always did have impeccable timing.”

  It took her several moments to respond. “No, Loren. My timing wasn’t good. To have impeccable timing, I’d have arrived fifteen minutes later. I’m sure you would have gotten a kick out of that.”

  Darren glanced from one to the other, frowning. “Actually, I don’t know what you two are talking about, but nothing happened here.”

  Kayla’s gaze swiveled toward him. “I know. My timing, remember.”

  Loren turned with her back against the chair and extended her legs. The thong she wore under her see-through left little to the imagination. “You could always make yourself comfortable and join us.”

  Kayla’s face burst bright red. “In both your dreams.”

  Darren collapsed onto the love seat, hands out. “Before the two of you decide on my sexual escapades, you might consult me first.”

  Darren’s and Kayla’s gazes met, boring holes in each other. Loren crossed her arms. “You know, Kayla, if you didn’t want to walk in on this, they have invented the telephone. Try using it sometimes.”

  Kayla tore her gaze away from his. She’d almost forgotten why she came in the first place. Her anger evaporated, replaced by glee. She smiled, causing Loren to scowl. “I tried to call but only got a busy signal. I received a call from the DA. The grand jury brought back a true bill. Right at this moment, the DA is preparing an arrest warrant. They are giving you two hours to surrender, or they haul your butt off.”

  Her mouth flew open. “Like a common criminal?”

  Kayla nodded. “Exactly.”

  Loren leaped to her feet. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  For the first time in a week, Kayla laughed. “The only thing I could think of better than that is if they let me slap the handcuffs on you.”

  TWELVE

  Kayla and Loren had left Darren standing alone in the room. Loren turned her head, smiled at him, and said, “We’ll continue this later.”

  Kayla never said a word. He hoped they took separate cars because they might kill each othe
r on the way. He had no idea the history between the two, but there had to be some—not good, either.

  It hadn’t taken long for his condition to shrink. He let out an audible breath. Damn that woman—damn both of them. Kayla’s accusing glare tore at him, but he hadn’t done anything. Not yet, anyway. He didn’t like Loren Estes. She treated people like trash—used them and discarded them, and he had no illusions about him and her. She’d treat him as she did everyone else.

  But mercy that woman had a sexy body and could turn a man’s innards inside out. He liked to think he’d have had enough self-control to reject her. She represented danger he couldn’t afford. He shook his head. Later, he’d have regretted it, but if Kayla Nugent hadn’t interrupted them, he wouldn’t’ve had the power to resist.

  He couldn’t get over Kayla’s expression, hurt, then anger as she glared at him. He could understand the anger part. A love tryst with Loren could interfere with his investigations. He rubbed his face. No, it would interfere.

  But why the hurt expression? Why would Kayla care anyway?

  He didn’t misread her anger, but he might have misread the hurt. He had feelings for her, and he couldn’t deny that. Maybe he wanted her to have hurt feelings and read that into a situation that didn’t exist.

  “Sir.” The maid’s cold voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’m leaving this place. I ain’t about to work for no murderer. You staying?”

  He forced a smile. “Actually, no, I’m out of here, too.”

  He stopped on the front stairs. A plain white piece of paper hung on the door with two words, “I quit.” He couldn’t blame the maid. He imagined that Loren Estes went through employees like most people changed clothes.

  Sitting in his car, he figured he’d better put that mess behind him and do what at least one person paid him to do. He pulled out his spiral notebook and found the person he needed to call. He wrote down the information the informant gave him and headed to his next destination.

  Thirty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of Dr. McCarran. Entering the office, he found four women in the waiting room, all in various stages of pregnancy. Behind a glassed-in reception area, a dumpy brunette smiled at him. “Can I help you?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think so. I might have the wrong doctor’s office.”

  She smoothed her short hair. “Who were you looking for?”

  He took out his spiral and flipped it open, then looked up at her. “Dr. McMichael’s office.”

  Disappointment flashed across her face. “His office is one block behind us.” She pointed.

  He thanked her and hurried out, but sat in his car waiting. Time dragged by as he checked his watch every few minutes. He’d done enough of this to know that watching time made it drag by, but he couldn’t help it.

  At last, the dumpy brunette rushed out the door to an old Chevy parked on the side. When she pulled out, he followed.

  She took him to a bank drive through and a pharmacy drive through before she stopped at an IHOP. When she went into the restaurant, he waited a few minutes and entered. He told the greeter he planned to meet someone who had arrived before him.

  She lounged in a booth by herself, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. He stood by her table until she glanced up. Recognition flashed in her eyes. “Ms. Castling, mind if I sit with you for a moment?”

  Her gaze jerked around the restaurant as if looking for help. Darren settled across from her and pushed a business card toward her.

  Without picking it up, she turned the card so she could read it. Her lip trembled. “I’m going to pay them as soon as I have the money. They didn’t need to send you.”

  He knew what she meant. He reached across and patted her hand. She jerked it away as if he’d burned her. “Actually, ma’am, I’m not here about that.”

  She frowned. “What then? I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  He nodded. “I know. I need some information on one of your patients.”

  Her face changed from fear and despair to anger. “I can’t and won’t tell you about any of our patients. They’d fire me.”

  “Uh-huh, do you mind if I call you Amanda?”

  She raised an eyebrow and thought for a second. “I don’t care.”

  “Actually, Amanda, they won’t fire you because no one will know I got the information from you. You don’t know me, but I can assure you this is true.”

  “You don’t understand. I have a six-year-old daughter. I can’t lose my job. The bank is about to repo my car. I can’t pay my rent or utilities.” She shuddered and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Darren knew what a total ass felt like. He absolutely hated this part of his job. He consoled himself with the fact that if he didn’t do it, someone else would. At least he’d help her and others may not. He reached into his pocket, laid a brown envelope on the table, and slid it across to her. “Actually, you owe four hundred in rent, six hundred on your car, and two hundred and twenty-five for your utilities. You also owe for your daycare. That is thirteen hundred and twenty-five dollars.”

  She looked up at him, stunned. “That envelope contains five thousand dollars. You need the money and I need the information.”

  She closed her eyes tight, wrapping her arms around herself.

  The waitress hurried to their table, ignoring Darren. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  Amanda didn’t open her eyes, but nodded.

  The waitress turned her glare on Darren, then back to Amanda. “Are you sure? Do you want me to get the manager?”

  Amanda opened her eyes. “Thank you, but no.”

  The waitress glared at Darren again but moved on. Amanda stared at him for a moment. “All you want is information and you promise no one will know I gave it to you?”

  He’d get the information and understood what she went through. Two days before this same scenario had played out, but then, he’d been in her shoes. The man in the limo knew he’d have to take the money—that he’d sell his soul to the devil. Now, he’d turned into the devil—buying someone’s soul.

  Money shouldn’t be this important in anyone’s life—shouldn’t be that important in his life.

  He reached across again and placed his hand on hers, taking a deep breath.

  This time she kept her hand where it lay. “I know at this moment, you may have a hard time believing me. I have done some things in my life I’m not proud of, and this here ranks at the top, but there’s no way on this earth anyone could get me to reveal who gave me this information.”

  As he talked, she stared at the table. Now, she glanced into his eyes as if trying to read his honesty. She eased her free hand over and took the envelope. “Who do you need information on?”

  He closed his eyes a moment. He hated himself. No wonder he couldn’t find a woman who would love and respect him. “Chandra Livingston.”

  * * * *

  Judge Simon Ballard handled Loren’s arraignment, which should’ve been a simple procedure, but Proctor had to interject his two cents. The judge asked for a plea and Kayla replied, “Not guilty.”

  The old judge turned to Proctor. “Do you have a recommendation on bail?”

  Without haste, Proctor rose from his chair, straightened his suit. “Your Honor, I do.”

  Kayla busied herself with papers to keep from physically reacting to the blowhard as he continued. “The state is charging the defendant with murder. We take these charges seriously.”

  Judge Ballard sank back in his seat. “Mr. Proctor. I already know what the charges are and I know they are serious. I’ll also assume the state, and I might add, the defense is also taking them seriously. Do you think I could get a recommendation from you without a speech?”

  Kayla covered her mouth to hide her smile. It took everything to keep from laughing at Proctor’s tomato-red face. She’d noticed before that Proctor didn’t like judges to admonish him, something she needed to keep in mind.

  “Yes, Your Honor, we would like to ask the court to deny bail.”
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  Kayla leaped to her feet, but before she could say anything, Judge Ballard raised his hand. She remained standing.

  Ballard removed his glasses and bit on one of the earpieces. “Do you consider her a flight risk? Is that the reason for the request of bail denial?”

  “Not necessarily, Your Honor. The state makes this recommendation for two reasons.” He held up one finger. “The heinous nature of the crime in our opinion calls for no bail.” He held up another finger. “Second, the defendant comes from an extremely wealthy family.”

  The judge raised an eyebrow and smoothed his bald spot. “Ms. Nugent, it’s your turn now.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I believe the state’s recommendation is without foundation. Murder is a serious charge. I’m not debating that at all. However, heinous? If it was that bad, why did the state wait this long to file charges? Also, sir,” she scratched her ear. “I have been an attorney for a while and this is the first time I have heard that it is against the laws of this land to have lots of money.”

  Ballard nodded. “Me, too. I’m setting bail at one million dollars. Ms. Nugent, I assume you have made arrangements?”

  “Yes sir, we have.”

  Judge Ballard wrote something on his note pad and then glanced up. “Is there anything that needs to be brought before the court at this time?”

  Proctor cleared his throat. “Your Honor, the state would like to make a motion for the record. We would like for the court to remove Ms. Nugent from representing the defendant from this case.”

  Ballard removed his glasses and set them down, leaning back and steepling his fingers. “Please tell me why I’d want to do that?”

  Kayla sat, but on the chair’s edge. She’d like to hear this, too. She’d tried so hard to get off this case and half the people involved wouldn’t let her. In her own estimation, she was no better than an average attorney—especially in cases like this.

  “The state does not believe she has the qualifications or experience to defend a murder case.”